Heartbreakers

“It’s Oliver.”

  “Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good. Tell me everything from the beginning.”

  “Okay, well, I was super nervous about seeing him again,” I started. “Like, so nervous I didn’t sleep at all Sunday night. Things went well in the morning. It was a bit awkward at first, but Oliver gave me his banana for breakfast, which was incredibly sweet. But then we went to this radio interview and Oliver started talking about some girl, which made me realize he didn’t like me.” I paused before finishing my story, trying to work up the courage to tell Cara everything. “I-I didn’t want to get hurt, so I told him that we should just be friends. Now he’s—”

  “You did what?”

  I flinched. “We’re working together now,” I said, trying to defend myself. For some reason, saying this to Cara sounded ten times stupider than when I’d said it to Oliver. Maybe that was because I knew she’d called me on it. “I thought it would be for the bes—”

  “No, just no,” Cara said, refusing to listen to my explanation. “That’s a load of bull. Why in the world would you tell him that? How do you know the girl he was talking about in the interview wasn’t you?”

  I opened my mouth to tell her otherwise but stopped. During the interview I’d assumed that Oliver was talking about someone famous, someone Kelly had “heard of” to use her exact words, but Cara had a point. Kelly had met me when we arrived at the station, which meant he could have been referring to me.

  But it didn’t matter—not after seeing that girl at the band’s rehearsal. Even if he had been talking about me, that would mean Oliver’s interests had an exceptionally fast turnover.

  “He. Doesn’t. Like. Me,” I said slowly.

  The line was silent for a moment, but then Cara sighed. “You’re such an idiot, Stella,” she said. “He gave you his freaking number.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, letting my breath out in a quick huff. “He gave me his number because we had fun for a night,” I told her, “but that’s all. I was just another random girl to him, and if Paul hadn’t offered me this job, Oliver never would’ve thought about me again.”

  “Do you really think Oliver Perry goes around handing out his number to ‘random’ girls?”

  I could easily have ended this discussion by telling her the truth—that I’d seen Oliver cozying up to someone else. That was why I’d originally called her, but now, just thinking about admitting what had happened made me feel sick, like my ribs were squeezing in on all the organs trapped between them.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to let myself like him, Cara. I don’t want things to be awkward—I don’t want to be awkward. All I did was uncomplicate things.”

  Cara heaved a sigh. “If you think it’s for the best, do what you want. But you can’t chalk it up to Oliver dismissing you if you’re going to do the same thing to him.”

  Maybe she was right, but the damage was already done. I couldn’t revoke my friends-only request without Oliver thinking I was completely jealous and pathetic.

  “Can we just forget about this?” I asked, suddenly regretting my decision to call.

  “Sure, Stella.” I knew from the way Cara said my name that she thought I was making a mistake, but for once she let it go. “What else do you want to talk about?”

  I did my best to push Oliver out of my thoughts and focused on another of my mounting problems. “Well, on Friday I have my first blog post.”

  “Ohmygee!” Cara gushed, her mood changing in an instant. “Totes exciting. Are you super-pumped?”

  “Not exactly,” I told her. Alec’s reassurance had helped settle some of my insecurities, but that didn’t mean my nerves were completely gone. “I know I’m being ridiculous, but I’m scared Paul’s going to take one look at my work and realize my pictures from the other weekend were just a fluke.”

  Cara scoffed. “Yup. Totally ridiculous. He’s going to like them, Stella. Stop stressing yourself out.”

  “But how can you be positive?”

  There was a long pause in which I assumed Cara was giving me a look, even though I couldn’t see it. “Because I know you, Stella,” she finally said, “and I know what you can do. I also know that you overthink everything, which tends to induce pointless panic.”

  And Cara was right. About both things actually—the pictures and the panic.

  By the next morning, I’d chewed my fingernails down so far that, if I kept going at this rate, all I’d have left would be bloody stumps. As I sat down with Paul at a café a few blocks from our hotel, I made a conscious effort not to bite them anymore. But without a diversion, my fingers started to twitch.

  “Let see what you’ve got so far,” Paul said with a smile. I slid my computer across the table to him, and then I tucked my hands under my butt to keep them from moving.

  “Wow,” was the only thing Paul said as he clicked through the gallery.

  Wow? Was that a good wow or a these-are-so-bad-I’m-shocked wow? My heart was hammering, and I felt like it was expanding inside my chest, leaving my lungs with no room to function.

  “These are all seriously impressive, Stella.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said in a rush, but then I stopped. “Wait. You—you think so? Because if this isn’t what you’re looking for, I can try to get some better stuff tonight.” His praise was exactly what I needed to hear, but I still couldn’t believe him. Part of my brain was convinced that I just wasn’t good enough.

  “New stuff? Heavens no!” he said and laughed. “I’m more concerned that we have too much material. How am I supposed to narrow this down when it’s all so amazing?”

  “Really?”

  “Really, really.”

  In the end we picked fifteen group shots, leaving out all the individual pictures I’d taken of the boys. Paul wanted the initial blog post to be simple, but there were at least twenty more pictures he wanted to use, so I already had material for next week. After showing me how to use the blog website and its different features, we added the images and spent an hour writing goofy captions.

  “Looks good,” Paul said, scanning the page one last time. “I think it’s ready.”

  I looked to him for instruction. “What should I do?”

  He pushed the computer back over to me. “Hit the publish button, Stella. This is your blog. You should be the one to bring it to life.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Okay, okay, okay. I repeated the word to myself to incite some courage as my finger hovered over the mouse. My whole body was buzzing—I was excited and hesitant at the same time. I’d never put myself or my work out in the world like this before, and once I clicked “Publish,” there was no going back.

  “Stella?”

  I cracked my neck. “Let’s do this,” I said, and then I slammed my finger down. I probably used more force than necessary because the mouse skipped across the table, but I didn’t care. A rush of adrenaline had flushed through my veins, and I couldn’t keep my knees from bouncing. It took five seconds for the file progress bar to go from empty to the bright blue of fully uploaded, and when it did, a new box popped up on-screen. It read: “The Heartbreak Chronicles” has been published.

  I beamed at Paul. The blog—my work—was finally live.

  “Take the weekend off,” he said. “You deserve it.”

  Chapter 14

  “Hey, Cara,” I said, when her phone went to voice mail. “I was just calling to tell you the blog is up, and that you were right. Paul loved the pictures. Give me a call when you get this. Love you. Bye.”

  I hung up and tucked my phone away, my lips pressing together in a thin line. The first thing I’d done when I left the café was call my sister. When she didn’t pick up, I called Drew. He didn’t answer either, and after the thrill of posting my pictures, their silence was a letdown. I wanted to share my high, to let them know that I was starting to believe that a
ccepting this job was the best thing for me, but what was the point of doing something exciting if I didn’t have someone to celebrate with?

  Back at the hotel, I found the band in their suite.

  “Stella! Get over here. Someone needs to tell these idiots that Thai food is ten times better than ordering boring pizza,” JJ complained.

  “Oh hell no,” Oliver said. He snatched the Thai menu from JJ’s hands.

  “Why not?” I asked, sliding into a chair next to Alec. “I could totally go for some pad thai right now.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Oliver said. “I love Thai food. It would totally hit the spot right now, but last time we ordered it, JJ stank up the plane with his poisonous gas. It reeked of spicy butt noodles.”

  “Besides,” Xander added, “there’s not much I can order from a Thai place, allergies and all.”

  I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “You guys order what you want. I think I just lost my appetite.”

  “Fine, how about Mexican?” JJ suggested.

  Oliver shot him a look. “How is that any better?”

  In the end, the guys decided on subs, much to JJ’s dismay. When the food was delivered, we all sat at the kitchen table to eat. I’d ordered a sandwich, even though I wasn’t in the mood; I knew my stomach would grumble as soon as I saw the guys eating.

  “Tuna-fish melt,” I said, reading off the order scribbled on the outside wrapping. Alec held up his hand and I passed it to him. Next I pulled out the salad, which I knew was Xander’s before he said anything. Then I grabbed another sandwich. “California club?”

  “Right here,” Oliver said, raising a finger. He reached across the table to grab his sandwich, and our hands brushed as he took his food. I quickly yanked back. Ever since Wednesday, things were weird between us. We avoided being alone together in the same room, and all of our conversations were forced, like distant relatives who had nothing to talk about but were trying to be polite.

  Looking away from him, I dug back into the bag and pulled out the final sub. “Meatball melt,” I announced and handed it to JJ. He muttered something under his breath about the injustice, but took his food without further comment.

  “Are there any napkins?” Alec asked as he tried to cut his sub in half with a plastic knife.

  I dumped out the remaining contents of the bag. A wad of napkins fell out, along with a stockpile of little red packets. “What’s with all the ketchup?” I asked. It looked like the sub shop gave us enough tomato sauce to make it through the year.

  “For my sub,” JJ said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

  Xander made a face. “It’s totally gross. He puts it on everything.”

  “Really?” I asked as I took a packet for myself. “That’s funny. Me too.”

  JJ gave me a nod of approval. “Ketchup should be its own food group.”

  “I used to eat it with a spoon when I was a little kid,” I admitted.

  For the first time since we shot down his Thai food idea, JJ grinned. “I used to do that too! We should be ketchup buddies!”

  “Just thinking about that makes me want to throw up,” Xander said. “Do you know how much sugar is in one of those little packets?”

  “I’ve never met anyone who likes ketchup as much as me,” I told JJ, ignoring Xander.

  “Well, I doubt that you like it as much as I do,” JJ said and puffed out his chest.

  “Wanna bet?”

  He leaned across the table and narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re on.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Oliver and Alec returned to the room with two economy-sized containers of ketchup from the hotel kitchen. Oliver set one down in front of JJ, while Alec put the other next to me. Xander went to the kitchen to get two spoons.

  “All right,” Oliver said, sitting down between us. Something about the competition seemed to lighten his mood, like he’d forgotten about the tension between us. “Here are the rules. Whoever can eat the most ketchup wins and will be declared the biggest ketchup fan. This is not a race. Contenders will eat equal amounts of ketchup until someone gets sick and gives up. Are the rules clear?”

  JJ and I both nodded, but I was worried that since he was bigger than me, he’d be able to eat more. The only advantage I had was that JJ had already finished his entire sub while I was starting on an empty stomach. “All right, ketchup lovers, grab your spoons.”

  I picked up my utensil and dunked it into the thick, red goo.

  When JJ and I shoveled the first spoonful into our mouths, Xander’s face turned green and he gave the rest of his salad to Alec. “That’s disgusting,” he said, trying not to gag.

  After a few spoonfuls, JJ frowned. “This tastes funny.” I raised an eyebrow in response. Tasted fine to me.

  “It’s a brand-new container of ketchup,” Oliver said. When he looked away, I saw his lips twitch.

  Four spoonfuls of ketchup later, JJ reached for his soda. “Why is it so hot?” he asked, but he continued to keep pace with me. Soon JJ had finished his entire coke and his upper lip was glistening with a layer of sweat. Finally, he pushed his tub of ketchup away. “Someone tampered with this.” He looked at Oliver in suspicion.

  “Are you giving up?” Oliver asked. He had a guilty smirk plastered across his face.

  “No, I’m saying this wasn’t a fair competition. My mouth is on fire.”

  “Sounds like an excuse,” Oliver said. “You’re too embarrassed to admit that a girl is going to beat you.”

  This shut JJ up and he pulled the ketchup back over, but he only managed a few more spoonfuls before drops of sweat were running down his face. “I need water,” he gasped, pushing away from the table and rushing into the kitchen.

  “Thank God,” I sighed and let my spoon clatter to the table. I loved ketchup, but I could barely manage another bite myself.

  “And Stella Samuel is the winner!” Oliver said, shouting out my victory like a sports announcer. “The crowd goes wild!” Alec and Xander both cupped their hands around their mouths and imitated the roar of a packed stadium.

  “What was in the ketchup?” I asked. JJ was bent over the sink with the faucet running, mouth wide open as he gulped down as much cold water as possible. Oliver pulled something out of his pocket, placed it on the table, and smirked. It was an empty bottle of hot sauce. I laughed. “You’re evil.”

  “No, I’m an opportunist. I could never pass up the chance to mess with JJ.” The dimples from his smirk made me smile up at him for the first time since rehearsals, but then my phone buzzed.

  Scrambling out of my seat, I pulled it from my back pocket in hopes that it was a text from Cara. But it wasn’t. I’d received a message from the bank informing me that a transfer had been made to my account—my first payment from Paul. I heaved a sigh and dropped back down into the chair.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Oliver asked. He squatted down so we were at eye level with one another and fixed his sparkly blue gaze on me. After two days of acting distant and stiff, his abrupt change to the funny, caring guy I met in Chicago made me pause.

  “I—it’s nothing,” I said, turning my cell phone over in my hands.

  Oliver shot me a doubtful look, but his eyes were tender. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

  “I’m fine,” I said and forced a smile. “Just a little homesick, that’s all. I uploaded my first post for the blog today, and I wanted to tell Cara and Drew about it, but neither of them are answering.”

  “Homesick, huh?” Oliver ran a finger back and forth across his lips as he thought. After a few seconds he said, “I think I have a solution.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  Unless Oliver could suddenly make my siblings appear, it was highly unlikely he could actually come up with something that could pull me out of this mood. However, it was sweet, if not totally unexpected, of him to want to do s
omething to make me feel better.

  He grinned at me then, and it was the type of smile that made me fear what was going to be said next. “A party.” His delivery was filled with the type of excitement I’d come to expect from JJ when he came up with a really awful idea.

  “A party,” I repeated. I could write an entire book on why that was a bad idea.

  “Yeah, to cheer you up.” He lightly touched my shoulder, and I was so amazed by the gesture after his cold attitude that I looked down at his hand. He pulled away quickly and added, “You should be celebrating.”

  The word “no” was perched on my lips. I wasn’t in a party mode, and there was no way loud music, a crowded room full of people I didn’t know, and alcohol were going to change that. Before I could tell him that, Oliver stood up and turned to the rest of the guys, who were still discussing the ketchup-eating contest.

  “Hey,” he shouted and clapped his hands to get their attention. “What do you guys think about throwing a party to celebrate Stella’s first blog post?”

  Xander, Alec, and JJ looked back and forth at each other before simultaneously nodding their heads in agreement.

  “I think one of my good DJ friends is in town,” Alec said and pulled out his phone. “Let me see if he’s free.”

  “We need champagne!” Xander said, pushing his glasses up in place on his nose. “Lots and lots of champagne!”

  “Guys,” I said, “I don’t need a party.”

  JJ pointed a finger at me. “Don’t even try talking yourself out of this one, Stella. You promised, remember?”

  He had me there. “I’m not much of a party person,” I said anyway. Of course, I’d never been to a real party so I didn’t know for sure.

  “I have a solution.” JJ disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a bottle of something clear and two shot glasses. “You need to loosen up.”

  “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. Was his solution always booze?

  “Come on, Bear. Tonight will be a blast if you let it be,” he said as he poured a drink for both of us.

  Again, I was about to say no, but then I thought back to my fight with Cara; she wanted me to take this job so I could live my life, have fun, that sort of thing. Maybe this was my chance to make up for all that lost time in high school that I always wanted but never really had.