So Totally

by Gwen Hayes

  “Spill.” The word barreled out of Foster, piercing the silence like a bullet.

  Chelsea cleared her throat and looked at her shoes. “We are going to change things up a little this time and tell Layney who her date is now, when she gets her assignment.”

  “Okay,” I said. That sounded good. Sometimes the not knowing made me edgy. “Who am I interviewing tonight?”

  “Miles Bennington.”

  “Miles Bennington? The Wondertwin?”

  Miles was one-half of a twin-set that refused to be separated. He and his sister, Ariana, were always together. Always. They weren’t conjoined, but they may as well have been. That is why most kids called them “AirMiles.”

  “He agreed? I didn’t think he went anywhere without his…”

  Everyone looked at Foster. “He doesn’t go anywhere without his sister,” he deduced. “Which is why you guys kept me out of the loop, isn’t it?”

  Maryanne whispered, “It’s a double date.”

  “No,” Foster and I answered simultaneously.

  “It’s a perfect solution,” Chelsea argued. “Jimmy will be there anyway, and after the last couple dates, we figured it might make you feel safer.”

  Sure, because double-dating with the devil is safe as houses.

  “The whole point of this assignment is for Logan to get to know these guys and report back what girls are looking for when they date. If I’m there, the results would be skewed,” Foster very thoughtfully added.

  “Right,” I said. “Wait, skewed how? What are you trying to say?”

  He stepped back a little. “I just think my presence might distract you.”

  I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. “Why exactly do you think that?”

  “We have a…history.”

  “Prehistoric.”

  “You might feel awkward.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of your feelings—”

  My hand covered his mouth. “Stop right there, asshat. I do not have feelings for you—at least none that don’t include the desire for pinking shears.” Foster winced, but I didn’t stop. “I am a professional investigative reporter, and I don’t let things like yesterday’s garbage interfere with my ability to get the story.” I turned to Chelsea and Maryanne. “If the only way to get Miles on this date is to take out AirMiles, we’ll do what we have to do. But don’t think we need to make it a double just because I’ve met a few bad apples. I don’t need Foster’s protection. I’m quite capable of handling myself.” I held my hand out for the pink heart, not opening it as I put the cover back on my coffee and collected my things.

  “Do you want me to pick you up?” Beelzebub asked.

  I answered with an icy glare and formed my fingers into the shape of scissors snipping.

  On my way out, I chucked the mocha into the wastebasket.

  Tyler dangled the bag in front of me and I snatched it like a greedy kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

  “Yay!” I tore into the bag and giggled at the picture on the mug. He’d painted a caricature of himself wearing a rhinestone Elvis jumpsuit holding hands with a caricature of me looking a lot closer to Kristen Bell than I usually do. “It’s made of awesome.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He sat across from me. “So, excited about the double date tonight?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t have texted you about it if I thought you were going to mock me all day.”

  “Why do you hate Jimmy so much?” Tyler passed me a burger from the bag.

  “Jimmy Foster? Because he’s made it his life’s purpose to annoy me. Why do you like him so much?”

  Tyler shrugged. “I’ve had him in a few classes. He’s always been nice.”

  “Bleh.”

  “So are you going to go out with Micah again?”

  I stopped midbite. “Where did that come from?”

  “He’s been telling people he’s hot for you.”

  “Get out.”

  “Whatever. I know you like him.”

  “Pass the ketchup. I don’t dislike him. I’m not really in the market for a boyfriend.”

  He handed me a couple of packets of condiments. “If anyone should be in the market for a boyfriend, it should be you.”

  “You’ve been on one date with Stephanie, and now the whole world should be in love? Besides, I would make a terrible girlfriend.”

  Not that I wasn’t happy that Tyler’s date with this new Stephanie girl went well—I wanted him to be happy. Really I did. It’s just that I’d just found him and I didn’t want a girl to come between our budding friendship.

  “Why do you say that? You’d be a great girlfriend if you just loosened up a little.”

  I sneered at him.

  “Did you write down your dreams last night?”

  “I couldn’t remember any of them. It’s like trying to hold on to a gust of wind.”

  Tyler sat back in his seat and watched me until I began fidgeting. I hate it when he does that. I know he has something to say. It’s usually something I don’t want to hear and usually something I need to.

  “What already?”

  “Do you think the dreams have something to do with your panic attack last week?”

  “No.” Yes. “Can I ask you a question?”

  Tyler nodded.

  “Whatever does a girl wear on a double date in hell?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Can I ask you another question?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really. Will you go to the mall with me after school?”

  Luckily, the helldate was a pizza joint and not too formal, so I stuck with jeans but added a really cute top I’d splurged on at Hollister because Tyler said it made my “eyes look greener” and “can we please go now?” I’m usually more of a t-shirt girl, but I needed a little confidence tonight. Foster would be looking for chinks in my armor—any perceived weakness, and I’d be toast.

  AirMiles were already there with Foster, so I got to make an entrance. Which, of course, I love. Not. They were seated smack-dab in the middle of the room—which I hated—at a table for four. Ariana sat next to her brother and across from Foster. Which meant I got to sit right next to him.

  Both guys stood up when I got to the table. Foster introduced me even though I’d known Miles for years. Puzzled by his odd behavior, I watched as his face flushed briefly. He was nervous too?

  After the pizza got ordered, Foster tried to engage Ariana in conversation, presumably so I could get to know Miles. I say presumably because his effort went unnoticed by brother and sister, who couldn’t seem to function in conversation unless they were finishing each other’s sentences.

  “Miles, you’re in band still aren’t you? Drums, right?” I asked.

  “He is,” answered Ariana. “He’s so awesome. He also plays in a rock band called the Riff.”

  “The Riff,” Miles repeated.

  “I’ve heard of you guys,” I answered. “You played at the park on the Fourth of July, right?”

  “They did. Did you buy a CD?” she answered again.

  “We were selling CDs at the show,” Miles added.

  I nudged Foster. “No…but I thought the band was great.”

  “Ariana,” Foster began. “What do you like to do?”

  “I’m in marching band too. But not the Riff.”

  “She’s our manager,” said Miles.

  Ariana nodded. “I’m their manager.”

  Miles was cute—Ariana was cuter. It was a shame that it was only together that they possessed one personality.

  After a little more chitchat, Ariana announced, “The Riff is playing at Lauren Parker’s birthday bash next month.”

  A red haze clouded my vision at not only the name but the event. I’d spent most of my high school years pretending Lauren Parker didn’t exist. Her little birthday bashes were the big highlight to a lot of students’ years.

  I hadn’t been invited to one since the eighth g
rade.

  The ice water in front of me saved me from a direct or immediate answer to that, and while I sipped, Foster said, “That’s great, Miles. Lauren’s parties are epic.”

  “You would know,” I answered.

  “Put your claws away, kitten,” Foster mumbled to me, which only ratcheted up my anger—which I’m sure was his goal. “Your band will be great,” he said to Miles. “Will you be there too? As the manager?” he asked Ariana.

  “Oh yeah, I wouldn’t miss it. It’s the best party of the year.”

  “See, that’s what I like to see,” Foster answered. “People making the most of their high school years. Going to parties and sporting events and having fun.”

  “That’s just like you to change the subject just so you can get another dig in.”

  “I’m not digging. Maybe you are just sensitive because you are the oldest teenager ever.”

  “Just because I don’t go to parties or dances or dates doesn’t mean I’m not getting the most of my high school experience.” He was so infuriating. “For me, the most is preparing for college.”

  “And college will prepare you for a career, and a career will prepare you for retirement. Then what? Retirement will prepare you for death? When do you actually plan on living?”

  The waitress set down our pizza, so I waited until she moved on before replying. “I happen to like my life. Just because I don’t want to go drinking and partying doesn’t mean I’m not living.”

  “No,” he replied. “But not having any fun at all means you’re not living.”

  “You just want to go to the party because you know there’s always a sure thing there for you.” I looked at Miles. “Lauren Parker’s birthday bashes have been very good to Foster. In fact, I bet he’s not the only one. I bet lots of guys cheat on their girlfriends at Lauren Parker’s parties.”

  “This is not the time or the place, Layney,” Foster reminded me.

  “No, apparently, Lauren’s rec room is the place.”

  “I knew you weren’t over it.” He put his pizza down. “Four years and I’m still hearing about one stupid night.”

  “This is the first time I’ve said anything since the eighth grade.” Instead of putting my pizza down, I took a huge bite.

  “You may not mention that night, but you refer to it with every snide remark and every distrustful glance.”

  “I see. So I should just completely trust the judgment of someone who thinks it’s okay to cheat.”

  “I did not cheat on you.”

  I threw my piece onto my plate. “You made out with Lauren Parker at her fourteenth birthday party.” I faced our dates again, who sat wide-eyed and stupefied. “He totally made out with Lauren Parker.”

  Foster’s fingers clenched into a fist before he let out a deep, exasperated breath. “I didn’t make out with her. I kissed her. Briefly.”

  “Oh please.”

  “It was spin the bottle,” he explained to AirMiles. “It lasted maybe ten seconds.”

  “You had no business playing spin the bottle at a party that your girlfriend didn’t attend.”

  “You were supposed to be there. You picked a fight with me and then didn’t show up.”

  “Oh, right. My bad. Then you totally had every right to kiss someone else.”

  “Gah.” He raked his fingers through his hair. How they didn’t get stuck in the gel is a mystery. “I wasn’t even playing. They asked me to join and I said no. About fifteen minutes later, I realized I was having a terrible time, so I went to say goodbye to Mitch. I crouched down to tell him I was leaving, and the bottle stopped and pointed at me.”

  “So you had no choice but to make out with the birthday girl.”

  “I didn’t make out with her. God, you’re stubborn. Maybe I should have protested more, but jeez, Layney, I was thirteen. There was a lot of pressure. Everyone was looking at me, and I was still mad at you, and I didn’t know what the right thing to do was. So, yes, I kissed her. Briefly. And then I left.”

  This really wasn’t the time or the place, but that didn’t seem to matter. “So that’s your excuse, then? You were mad and people were looking at you? That’s all it took to throw away what I thought was a good relationship?”

  “You threw it away, not me.”

  “I didn’t kiss anyone. I didn’t bring anyone else into the mix.”

  “You were the one who brought her into it, not me. It was a dumb kiss during a dumb game of spin the bottle. If our relationship was so good, you would have laughed it off. But no, you were looking for a reason to break up.”

  “Well thank you so much for giving me such a good one, then.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Believe me, this is the last time I hope to ever talk about it. And Foster?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where are our dates?”

  At some point during our tirade, they must have taken off—undetected by the two top investigative journalists of our school. We waited another ten minutes just to be sure they didn’t go to the restroom (and that gave me the willies thinking they went together) and we left too.

  I felt sick and full of anger and maybe something close to regret.

  Foster may have come closer to the truth than I cared to admit. Maybe I had been looking for a reason to break up. One that was easier for me to accept than I was just scared.

  And one that didn’t include the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mr. July

  Sk8erboy92: What are you wearing right now?

  I smiled at my monitor.

  LoisLayney: A coat made from the fur of one hundred and one puppies. At least that is what the reporter whose column I’m editing probably thinks.

  Sk8erboy92: Fine. What are you wearing under the coat, then?

  Micah made me laugh.

  LoisLayney: What are you doing?

  Sk8erboy92: I’m standing on the street corner texting you IMs.

  I jumped up and rand to my window. Sure enough, two houses down and under the streetlight, a boy in a hooded sweatshirt waved to me, the light glinting off the studs on his belt.

  I punched his digits into my cell.

  He answered with, “You don’t look like you’re wearing a fur coat.”

  “Why are you skulking around my street, skaterboy?”

  “I was kinda hoping you’d come out and play with me.”

  My toes curled into the carpet. “I’m pretty sure my parents would object. It’s a school night, you know.”

  “Just for a little while?”

  I hadn’t sneaked out of the house since…well, since I used to swap spit with Foster. And even then, we didn’t usually get too physical when we were on our forbidden dates. Neither one of us had been ready to test our boundaries yet. We saved that kind of stuff for stolen moments when our parents knew where we were. Safer. No getting carried away.

  I’m not sure if Micah worried about getting carried away.

  “Micah…”

  “I just want to talk. I promise. I’ll keep my hands in my pockets the whole time.”

  The clock read after midnight. My parents turned in at 10:30 sharp and slept like the dead.

  “I’ll be down in a few.”

  A bitter wind bit at my face as I got closer to the corner. Maybe it would have been more of a brisk or energizing wind to me if I really wanted to be out there. But that was my problem. I didn’t want to be out there. Out in the dating world. I hadn’t since Foster, and knowing that made me angry that I’d cloistered myself away like a nun all these years.

  So, I was going to take a walk with a hot boy who liked me. Whether I wanted to or not.

  Micah tentatively reached for my hand. His was warm, comforting, and despite my misgivings, gave me a slight thrum of excitement in my belly.

  “How many more dates do you still have to go on?” he asked as we began walking, hand in hand down my street.

  “Six.” I shuddered from disg
ust as much as from the chilly wind. “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “It seems to me you should be trying to help me get out of them.”

  “Nah. I’m not worried about the competition. The more of them you date, the more you’ll like me. It’s Jimmy Foster I wonder about.”

  “Foster? Why?”

  “No reason. Are you cold?”

  He started to take off his jacket, but I stopped him. “No, don’t. I’m okay. Why are you wondering about Foster?”

  A rock under his shoe suddenly became very interesting, and we came to a stop as he toed it back and forth. “It’s just that he comes up a lot.”

  “You mean when you ask me about my day and I tell you it sucked so you ask why and he’s always the reason?”

  “It’s just…nothing. It’s dumb.” He started walking again, but there was some really huge, big, dumb, ugly elephant in front of us that we pretended wasn’t.

  “This walk isn’t going the way you planned, is it?”

  Micah smirked and squeezed my hand. “Not exactly.” He stopped again and reached for my other hand. “It’s no secret that I really like you, right?”

  He played with my fingers so he wouldn’t have to look into my eyes, I think. How reassuring that even a guy like Micah had reservations about his prowess sometimes.

  But I wasn’t sure I was the best candidate to restore his confidence either. “It’s no secret that I’m really a sandwich short of a picnic when it comes to feelings and emotions and…stuff, right?”

  He puckered his lips into a wry little smile. “I’d like to go on a real date when you are done with the undates. Is that even remotely likely?”

  I wanted to reassure him. I wished I was the girl who could smile and bat her eyelashes and say just the right coy thing to make him glad he expended the effort to spend time with me.

  Micah looked so handsome in the moonlight. Nothing was stopping me from wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him. He’d be a great kisser. He’d be a good boyfriend. Nothing was stopping me except the heavy weight of an anvil pressing on my chest.

  Speak, Layney. “If I said it’s not out of the realm of possibilities, would that be enough for you? At least for tonight?”