Senior Week Crush

by Maggie Dallen

  But that thought alone was too depressing. I’d spent countless hours, countless weeks, countless years dreaming about Dylan. To give up on that now when I was so close to him, when fate had thrown us together… It made me want to cry.

  The tears wouldn’t come. So I sat there on a bench on the boardwalk, facing the ocean and trying to summon up tears. It may sound odd but I know this about myself: tears are better out than in. It’s true. When I get this crazy emotional, I can’t see the forest through the trees and a good cry always helps give me perspective.

  But the tears didn’t come and so I sat there tearless until I couldn’t put it off any longer. We had band practice—our very first band practice—and then our first show as a real live band later tonight.

  Funny how the thought of band practice had been so nervewracking just a few days ago and now… well, now I was kind of looking forward to it. And not because of Dylan—I was actually kind of dreading having another disappointing encounter with him. I was looking forward to singing, and to hearing Jack’s music. I couldn’t wait to slip back into that magical space where all that existed was his guitar and my voice and the music.

  Unfortunately the rest of the band kind of got in the way of that magic. Jack and I were a well-oiled machine, but getting Dylan and Herman up to speed with how we’d been doing the songs was frustratingly difficult.

  They weren’t real musicians. I mean, they were. Obviously they were. They could play the notes. But they didn’t feel the music. And yeah, I know how cheesy that sounds, but it’s the only way I could explain it, even to myself. Jack, surprisingly, seemed to have more patience with them than I did, always willing to go back and start from the top to give them a chance to work out their issues.

  He even gave me knowing, reassuring smiles to keep my morale up. Honestly, starting the same song over and over and over again was a tad demoralizing. And boring. But it was worth it, I think. Or at least it would be when we performed in front of most of the senior class and didn’t suck.

  Hopefully.

  When I’d come back to the house, most of the stragglers had left and the band’s equipment was set up in the living room, amidst the garbage. While they did a sound check, I did some cleaning up. I didn’t mind, since it gave me an excuse to avoid Jack’s watchful gaze and ignore the fact that Dylan was oblivious to me.

  In his defense—or maybe in mine—the more I got to know him the more I realized that he was oblivious to everyone. He was friendly to everyone, including but not limited to his ex. But he also seemed partial to no one, including but not limited to his ex.

  And me.

  He was a nice guy, I told myself as I surreptitiously watched them while rounding up empty plastic cups. It wasn’t like he was being mean to me. And if Jack and Amy were right, maybe tonight was the night. Maybe he’d finally sit up and take notice.

  Assuming I could figure out how exactly Mattie had transformed me.

  I wished she was here with me. I wished Amy was here with me. Honestly, I just really needed a girl friend right about now.

  The moment band practice let out, I was ready to run. Flee, really. There was just too much going on in my head to be in this room with Jack one second longer.

  And Dylan, obviously.

  There was confusion everywhere I turned. I’d nearly reached the front door when Jack stopped me. “Where are you going?”

  I froze. Somehow I felt like I’d just been caught red-handed. “Um, I need to buy a few things.”

  He came over to me so we weren’t shouting over the others. “Are you okay?”

  I blinked at him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m totally fine.”

  My voice sounded strained and his smile held more than a hint of amusement. “Okay then. I just thought that maybe after last night—”

  “Nope, I’m good.” I immediately regretted cutting him off. After last night… what? Had he felt it too? Part of me wanted to ask him. Were you going to kiss me? Or had I misread the situation? Were there crazy sparks between us or was that just a normal by-product of kissing someone?

  He tilted his head down and gave me a stare that I couldn’t read, but that warmed me to my core. He saw me. He saw right through me.

  “What are you up to?” Ugh. My voice was weirdly chirpy. Way to remain cool and unaffected, Layla.

  “A bunch of us are heading down to the ocean. Going to get some beach time in before we head over to the club to set up.”

  I nodded. Beach time. That made sense. We were here to have fun in the sun, after all.

  “You should come join us.” He said it so easily, so naturally. Inviting me along with him and his friends like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  Because he saw me.

  I swatted the thought away. Some part of me had become obsessed with that idea and couldn’t let it go.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said. “Um, I actually…” Oh God, this was so embarrassing. I looked down at my wallet as if it held the answers. “I need to get some clothes for tonight because I can’t look like this and—”

  “Why not?” he interrupted. We both looked down at my outfit—a peasant blouse that exposed some of my shoulder—scandalous, I know—paired with another skirt that brushed the tops of my feet. I frowned up at him, certain he was kidding.

  He wasn’t.

  “I need to look….” My arms flailed in my attempt to come up with words. “I need to look the part,” I finished.

  I saw his chest expand through his fitted black T-shirt as he took a deep breath.

  I couldn’t believe I was going to ask him this but I had no idea what I was looking for. “Do you—I mean, could you maybe help me find something appropriate?”

  His gaze shot to my face and his eyes widened. His quick grin was so sexy it nearly knocked me over. He moved closer and I stopped breathing. “Layla James, are you asking me to be your shopping buddy?”

  I bit back a shocked laugh at his teasing tone. This was a side of him that was still so new to me.

  I liked it.

  But it also made me inexplicably nervous. “No. I mean, yes. I don’t know.” I wrinkled my nose as I laughed. “Is that too weird?”

  He slapped a hand over his heart. “It might be the most flattering thing any girl has every asked me. But yeah, it would be weird.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure how to take that. Should I be reading into that or did that qualify as neurotic overanalyzing?

  “Don’t get me wrong, I know what I like on a woman when she’s wearing it, but I have zero clue how to shop for a female.”

  I laughed at his look of horror.

  Then his expression cleared and he pulled out his phone. “I have an idea. Hang on.” I watched him texting someone.

  Please say he’s asking Mattie to drive all the way over here for a quick makeover.

  But when the phone dinged back, he held it out for me to read and my heart took a quick leap into my stomach.

  Stephanie. He’d asked Stephanie to help me.

  I bit back a groan. It wasn’t a bad idea, actually. The girl knew how to dress and she had the kind of girlie makeup and hair skills that I’d never mastered. But still. The whole point of this trip—and apparently tonight’s gig—was to get Dylan’s attention.

  Her ex.

  How awkward was this going to be?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Answer? Not awkward at all.

  Turned out Stephanie didn’t do awkward. She kind of reminded me of Dylan in that sense, too. If she thought it was odd that she’d been conscripted to play personal shopper for the class’s hippie reject, she didn’t let on. Just like Dylan, she was unerringly friendly and nice.

  So damn nice.

  It was impossible not to like her. Just like with Dylan. I had to wonder if the guys in our class felt the same weird compulsory liking for Dylan or if that was just a girl thing.

  “This one. Definitely this one,” Steph said as she thrust a skimpy halter top in my direction. I adde
d to the stack of clothes in my arm that I still needed to try on.

  “Thanks,” I said automatically. And then, because it needed to be said, “And thanks for doing this.” I made a face as I looked down at my tragically unhip outfit. “I’m kind of useless when it comes to clothes.”

  “Are you kidding?” Steph gave me a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I love your look. You totally created an image for yourself and you own it. That takes guts.”

  I choked on a laugh. Did it take guts to be comfy? Sure, let’s go with that.

  Steph shook her head as she sorted through clothes on a rack as if it was second nature. “I’m serious. You’ve always been so cool about not caring what other people think.” Her gaze met mine and her sincerity threw me off guard. “I really admire that.”

  “Thanks.” It came out automatically even though I was still staring at her in disbelief. Really? Stephanie admired me? I mean, I never had cared too much about fitting in, but not because I was some super confident badass.

  Unless…maybe I was and I didn’t even know it.

  Mind blown.

  Stephanie didn’t seem to notice that she’d lost me to my inner dialogue. She was still talking and shopping as if she hadn’t just thrown my whole world view for a loop.

  And she wasn’t done.

  “I totally get why Jack likes you so much.”

  Say what now? I stared at her as she blithely flipped through the rack, seemingly unaware of my shocked stare. Jack liked me. As a friend? Surely she meant as a friend.

  But her tone took on a laughing tone as rolled her eyes. “That boy has got it bad.” Then she turned to me as if she’d just insulted me. “But I totally get it. I mean, I have from day one.”

  “Day one?” It was the best I could manage. My body might be frozen in shock, but my brain was capable of speech. Or, more accurately, it was able to reproduce sounds like a parrot.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, holding up a sequined top and squinting at it as if it just offended her. I almost prompted her again, but I didn’t need to. She wasn’t done. “He’s been into you since the day he transferred to our school. He’d talk to Dylan and me about you all the time. Why he wouldn’t just ask you out is beyond me.” She looked at me then. “You would have said yes, right? I mean, what girl wouldn’t say yes to Jack Abrams?” Her eyebrows were doing a weird arching thing that made her look a little crazy. Or maybe she was looking at me like I was crazy, or like I would be crazy if I didn’t go out with Jack.

  But he hadn’t asked me out.

  Because he didn’t like me. Not like that. Right?

  I was so confused.

  Why had he teased me so much? He’d always picked on me.

  Mattie’s words from the other day sprang up in my mind. She’d said he never outgrew the pigtail-pulling phase. I stared at Steph as she continued to talk but I was having a hard time hearing her over the blood that was rushing to my head making me lightheaded. Had he really been teasing me all this time because he liked me?

  But then why was he helping me get Dylan’s attention?

  Because he thinks that’s what you want.

  And it is.

  Is it?

  Stephanie tossed me a skirt to add to my pile and I stared at it blankly. Oh Lord, I was so confused. I needed Amy. I could’ve used Mattie too. But instead I had Steph. Sweet, simple, friendly Steph. She would do.

  “I didn’t know,” I said, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears. “I didn’t know Jack had um…” I couldn’t say it. I still couldn’t really believe it.

  It was her turn to stare. “Seriously?” She started laughing. “He’s so clearly smitten with you. It’s sweet, really. I mean, the way he watches you all the time. The way he can’t keep his eyes off you, like you’re the only girl in the world?” She let out a sappy sigh and then her eyes met mine. “I used to wish Dylan would look at me like that.”

  I hoped I didn’t look as dumb as I felt. If I were a cartoon character my head would be vibrating like I’d just got smacked over the head with a frying pan.

  Steph didn’t sound bitter, just resigned. “Don’t get me wrong. Dylan is a sweetheart, but he’s just so oblivious sometimes.” She started to laugh as she turned back to the rack. “I mean, the first time Jack started talking about you during a band practice, he didn’t even know who you were. He was like ‘who’s Layla?’ and I had to explain to him that your name isn’t Laynie.” She rolled her eyes as she laughed. “You’ve been in our class since forever, but that is so like him. He never pays attention, he never remembers stuff like birthdays or…you know…names.” She gave me a look of sisterly solidarity. “He is such an idiot.”

  She said it lovingly, like how I would call Amy crazy. Yes, she’s crazy, but she’s my crazy. Steph called Dylan an idiot like that.

  I was left processing the fact that Dylan’s cute little nickname for me was not really a nickname. He just hadn’t known my name. I knew it! Oddly my initial reaction was a surge of triumph at having called it on the phone with Amy.

  I stood there for a moment, not moving to follow her down the aisle. I was waiting for the pain to set in. Any second now I would be crippled and devastated by this new information.

  I waited.

  It never came.

  Huh. Maybe I was in shock.

  Or maybe I just didn’t care.

  I could feel the world shifting around me ever so slightly as my world view started to align with reality. When it clicked into place, I had the distinct urge to laugh. At myself, mainly, for being so incredibly blind. I’d become so set on the idea that I loved Dylan, I hadn’t stopped to take a good look at him. Or at me.

  Yeah, maybe I had been in love with him once upon a time. After all, he’d been the cute next door neighbor. Everyone had a crush on him.

  But not everyone clung to that crush like a lifeline. I’d pushed away all other possibilities for the dreams of a child.

  Oh God, I was so dumb.

  I needed time, space. I needed Amy. I didn’t have any of those things. Time was ticking, and I had to be at the club in an hour. Before that I had to buy an outfit and get into character.

  In short, Steph and I had work to do.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I managed to push through the life-altering news, even listening and laughing as Steph opened up to me about her on-again, off-again status with Dylan. It seemed she’s wasn’t quite as okay with it as I’d thought.

  Though she was still pretty darn healthy about it all, if you asked me. I wouldn’t have been so cool about a breakup with my boyfriend of seven years. But then, she and Dylan existed in a world of cool that was inexplicable to me. Not ‘cool’ in the sense that they were popular—though they were—cool in the laid-back sense.

  Something told me no one has ever accused Stephanie of overanalyzing any situation ever. And she even admitted that Dylan was kind of an idiot.

  God bless ‘em, these two simple people truly did deserve one another.

  That should have hurt to realize, but it didn’t. I was totally cool with it. For the next hour, I listened to her talk and I gave input when needed. And it was fine. It was totally fine.

  It was fine as long as we steered clear of Jack in our chats. She tried to mention him once, not so subtly asking how I felt about him, but I played dumb and avoided the topic.

  How did I feel about Jack? That was a weighty question that would entail hours and hours of analysis, preferably with Amy, and absolutely not right before a show.

  With that mindset, I studiously avoided thinking about Jack right up until we reached the club.

  It was a little harder to avoid thoughts of Jack when he was there, intense and broody and smirking like always.

  God, he irritated me.

  And also, I totally wanted to kiss him again.

  But what did that mean? I didn’t know. I wasn’t ready to think about it.

  And then we were all backstage getting ready and there was no time to think. When the curt
ains went up and we found ourselves facing a crowd of our classmates, there was no way I could think.

  All I could do was act. Slipping into character got easier and easier. This time it felt like second nature. It felt like… me.

  Jack’s earlier words came back to me as the first chords started up for the opening song. He’d seemed convinced that it was me. That this wasn’t a character but a part of me.

  I found myself looking over and Jack’s gaze met mine. He gave me a little smile that made my heart jump in my chest. Our eyes locked and I couldn’t look away as I launched into the opening lyrics.

  It was an up-tempo song and the crowd responded quickly and with abandon. Through the spotlights, I could make out a few people from our class. Steph and her friends were there, front and center. For Dylan, and maybe for me too.

  Just like that first gig in Philadelphia, the sum of it all was entrancing, hypnotic. The lights, the music, the crowd’s excitement. It swept me up into a flow that was starting to feel as natural to me as the adrenaline rush that came with performing in plays.

  In some ways, it was almost… better. If Jack was right, and this was a part of who I was, I liked it. I liked her. I liked this part of me who could shine in the spotlight without hiding behind a character. I liked the way the audience saw me, the way I saw myself.

  Amazingly, Dylan saw me too. A quick glance back and I could see his eyes were on me. For the first time in my entire life, he was actually looking at me. But I felt nothing.

  I turned to the other side to face Jack and shared a smile so big it hurt.

  I liked the way he saw me.

  In that moment, the crowd ceased to exist, Dylan and Herman faded into the background. For one blissful moment it was me and Jack.

  And it was perfect.

  The song came to an end just in time because I stopped breathing as well. That was it. The moment had happened. I’d waited all my life for that moment, a moment of connection that transcended space and time.