Player plops down next to me at lunch the next day throwing an arm around my shoulders, “man if looks could kill my guts would be spilled all over this table right now in a bloody heap.”
“What?”
He leans in to whisper, “your boy over there at the track table. He’s eyeballing me something fierce right now.”
I don’t bother looking. What’s the point? Abruptly, a loud crash startles me and makes Player’s arm tighten around my shoulders. All noise in the cafeteria stops in a deafening momentary silence. A door slams and the lunchtime din resumes its normal level.
“I’m pretty sure that was not the proper way to return your cafeteria tray to the stacks,” Laurel said, “you can look up now sweetie. He’s gone.”
But I don’t. Again, what’s the point?
“Well, this table is now a major buzz kill,” Player announces.
“Eli!” Laurel chastises him.
“What? Buck up Buttercup,” he told me giving my shoulder a tiny shove with his. “At least we got you in the separation. You’re loads easier on the eyes than he is these days…but, if I’m being honest, not by much.” Jaxon tries to kick him under the table and I feel Laurel reach behind me trying to smack his arm.
“Knock it off both of you. Listen, breakups happen. Shit happens, ok?” he snaps at them both.
By now all three of them have heard the full, unabridged history of Katie and Josh-- The Humiliating Pain, from the time we met in a baby gym class when we were two up until five minutes ago and all the glorious gory details in between.
"All I’m saying is that our little B Cup Bookworm deserves better. If nobody else will say it I will. The guy’s a dick. You don’t mess with people like that,” and he stands, leaving the table without saying another word.
I push the food around my plate for a little while longer until the bell signals us to head to class.
The next week goes by in a blur of studying for finals, talking about summer plans, and getting ready for The Prom. That’s all anyone’s talking about at school. I’m actually a little sick of hearing it, and it’s still one week away, but Laurel manages to talk me into another shopping trip for accessories tonight.
It's only been a week since we were here getting my new dress, but the mall still has the crowded, creepy, ick factor for me that always makes me want to race out of the nearest exit screeching. But, I don't. I'm a good BFF, or at least getting better at faking it these days.
I’m waiting for her to come out of the dressing room for the 19th time when from behind me I hear a deep voice say, “Hey.”
Damn it. Just when I thought tonight couldn’t get any worse. How does he still send shivers down my spine with just one word? Even when it's the first word I have heard him say to me in sixteen days.
I take a quick deep breath and turn around to face the greenest eyes I have ever seen, and haven’t seen in what feels like forever. I try not to stare. And fail. Breathe dummy. Speak!
“Hi.” Stimulating conversation Katie. Way to go.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“It’s the women’s section of Macy’s. Wild guess, I’m not ordering ice cream.” Excellent choice Katie, like sarcasm and snark served you sooooooo well this year.
“Right.”
He’s looking down, checking out his shoes. Yes, laces. Very interesting Josh.
Maybe he’s as uncomfortable as me. Good. I hope he’s sweating buckets under that tight polo shirt. “….you here alone?” he asks without looking up.
“Nope. Laurel’s checking out the entire department one outfit at a time. She doesn’t want to risk not being a fashion statement at the dance. She has an image to protect.”
“You’re going crazy shopping aren’t you? It’s just not your thing.”
Not fair. Low blow knowing me so well.
“Not at all. Just looking for all the tinsel,” I say.
“Tinsel?” Does he try to look cute on purpose cocking his head to the side like that?
“Tinsel. All the little extras that make your outfit shine: shoes, jewelry, new makeup…tinsel, like the shiny stuff you put on the Christmas tree to get the extra sparkle,” I explain.
“Yeah, you sound really into it.” There’s that crooked little grin again. I will not fall for it. I will not.
“I’m working hard keeping my enthusiasm to a minimum. Don’t tell Laurel, she’s been looking forward to it all week.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” to his credit, a half second later he realizes what he just said, and his face flushes about 10 shades of pink.
I decide I’m feeling gracious and I’m just glad to see him again, so I let him off the hook for that one, “relax, what’s done is done. Right?”
I rub my palms on my pants to keep my hands from reaching out to touch him under any circumstances.
“Thanks,” he mumbles and meets my eyes. I remember I told myself I wouldn’t get caught up staring at him again so I break the staring contest and ask him, “better question is what are you doing in the Macy’s women’s section?”
Make those 10 shades of red now.
Before he can answer, a very giggly girl with very long brown hair, and a very short black skirt comes out of nowhere and latches onto his arm like he’s the last life vest on the sinking Titanic. “THERE YOU ARE JOSHY!”
A big mouth bass fish out of water flopping around on the ground would have a smaller gaping mouth and stunned look on its face than Josh does right now. For the first time ever, we both seem to be at a loss for words.
Long brown hair/short-black skirt fills the nanosecond of silence that feels like it’s gone on for an hour. “I was just looking at like the most adorbs set of black vinyl pumps Joshy. Like you have to come see how they look on me. AND LIKE YOU KNOW IT’S A BOGO SALE TOO!”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows a few times trying to remember how to form words, “what’s a BOGO sale?”
“Buy One Get One half off silly! Isn’t that extreme?” she squeals.
I swear, she actually squeals.
Then it hits me.
He’s here on a date.
At the mall.
With that squealing thing on his arm.
Barely two weeks after we almost do it in the prop room? I’m about to lose my weak grip on reality, and my dinner, when Laurel swoops in out of nowhere for the rescue. If she keeps this up, I’m going to have to start paying her as my personal bodyguard.
“And who’s this lovely little thing?” Laurel positively purrs. I’m still trying to figure out how to be all casual and mature, but I’m so beyond stunned at this point. I can’t speak.
“Oh Hi, I’m Mandy. I’m like a junior at Westfield. I think we had Spanish together last year before I transferred. You look like so familiar you know?” she squeals again.
I swear I’m not making that up.
Wait a minute. Joshy? Mandy? Why does that sound familiar…MANDY?
The night I tried to call him from the cast party. The giggly thing that answered his cell is now hanging on his arm. My eyes are as big as saucers when they fly to meet Josh's eyes. His guilt is palpable and my chest is so tight, I can’t take a breath in. I’m frozen stock still where I stand.
“Nice to meet you, but we really have to go. Have parent credit cards to do serious damage to for Prom you know,” Laurel told her. Grabbing my arm she turned me in the opposite direction. Bless you Laurel. I owe you a major coffee and a cookie the size of Texas for this.
Unfortunately, now that I’m not getting lost staring into his eyes I’m not feeling as gracious as I was a few minutes ago. I look back over my shoulder telling him, “Later JOSHY,” as cold as I can muster and head out into the fluorescent lights trying not to think too hard about why I’m so furious, or why I want to collapse in a sobbing heap right there on the tile floor.
We stop for a caffeine kick at Starbucks and by mutual BFF mental telepathy Laurel has not mentioned
one word about what just happened. It took me a couple days after that night to bring her up to speed on everything I told Jaxon at the cast party. Her BFF answer to help squash my new pain is more retail therapy as a distraction.
She drags me into Claire’s to look at rhinestone hair clips and chandelier earrings and we practically run smack into the back of Mandy in the headbands section. I almost pull a muscle in my neck whipping my head around to look for Josh. He’s nowhere to be seen but Laurel’s two steps ahead of me, per usual “where’s your boy toy?” she asks Mandy.
I try not to let her see me wince.
“Oh, Joshy said he had to make a quick call and pick up something special he ordered from a jewelry store and he’d catch up in like a second. Probably something he got for his Mom for Mother’s Day. He’s just like the sweetest most thoughtful guy ever! Hey, you guys want to like shop together until he gets back?”
She’s more excited than an over-caffeinated Chihuahua not even giving us a chance to try to politely ditch her hyper ass before she grabs onto us and starts gushing about prom, “Joshy hasn’t asked me yet, but like I just know he will any day now. Sometimes us girls just have to help the guy out you know. Like drop hints, like help you know. That’s why I asked him the other night if he could drive me to the mall this weekend.”
So this is their third date?!?
“I told him like I needed to get a pair of shoes for my PROM dress,” she turns away to try on a necklace and just keeps on talking.
“Like did she just like wink at me?” Laurel mumbles next to me.
“Joshy? Are you kidding me? I’m going to throw up in my mouth,” I whispered back, “you’re the evil mastermind. Laurel you have to get me out of here. Now.”
To her credit, she manages to stifle a giggle before Mandy turns back around. I swear Mandy has not taken a single breath, but has not stopped talking since we walked in and she spotted us.
“Ow!” Laurel grabs her stomach and bends over. Mandy’s eyes go wide.
We bail out fast on the fake menstrual pretense and head back to the parking lot to Laurel’s car.
“Remind me again, do we hate him now?” she asks me softly, only half-serious.
“We don’t hate him, we should, we're trying, he just….and…I don’t know what we feel anymore.”
We’re just stunned.
“Maybe Mandy is his penance.”
“No one deserves that much punishment. Not even Joshy,” I mumble.
Laurel spies a pair of cheetah print heels in the corner on our way out and tears off after them telling me to catch up. I give a weak promise that I’m right behind her. Once I’m alone for a minute, I slip behind a mannequin, drop to the floor, and watch my tears make dark circles, one after the other, where they fall on the legs of my jeans.