Friday Night Alibi

Tiffany, hostess of the month, squeezes my shoulder. She’s fresh out of college, and treats me like I’m ten, even though we’re only five years apart. But the gesture is comforting since it’s the only sincere thing someone’s done for me in the past week.

  “There’s someone who says he knows you. He’s waiting up front. Should I let him back?”

  Probably Alex. We should go over all the deets for tonight.

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  I already have my outfit picked out, and I went over the past few dates we were supposedly on. A tiny chuckle comes out as I remember the sliced penis convo. Probably shouldn’t bring that up with his ’rents.

  A sigh filters out my mouth. His parents pay attention. Well, enough to invite me over for dinner. They care about their son and want to get to know his friends. My parents don’t even know I’ve “been with him” for like, a month now.

  My lip juts out and I twirl my straw around my glass.

  “Wow.”

  Oh no.

  He slips into the booth across from me, sliding off his black jacket, revealing those veiny, bony arms sneaking out of his black T-shirt. His eyebrow is cocked and he rubs the stubble on his chin, shaking his head. “Sadie said you needed someone to talk to. Didn’t think she was serious.”

  Too much info colliding in my brain. “Huh?”

  The corners of Chase’s mouth quirk up and he says like I’m slow, “Sadie. Called. Me.” He puts his elbows on the table and talks with his hands. “She. Said. You. Needed. To. Talk.”

  My brow goes down, nose wrinkles up, and I fold my arms. “Not to you.”

  His fingers interlock as he sets them on the table. “Come on, Stinky. Sometimes you just gotta let it out.”

  “Not. To. You.” And he thinks I’m the one who doesn’t listen.

  He shrugs, pops some calamari in his mouth and takes my water. We sit there, me glaring, him acting all blasé and cool about the whole thing. I almost pull my phone out and give Sades a giant piece of my mind, but Tiffany interrupts.

  “Are you ready to order, sweetie?”

  An evil idea invades my brain, and suddenly, getting back at Moron for dumping me in the pool makes me excited he’s here. Distraction is what I need.

  “Yes, I think I want my dad’s favorite.” I look at Moron. “Anything for you?”

  His eyebrow goes up, probably trying to figure out my angle. I don’t blame him. But his mouth splits open in that stupid smile and he says, “I’ll have the same.”

  Ballsy. He doesn’t even know what it is, but like I predicted, he thought it was safe since I ordered it.

  Moron.

  Tiffany winks, rubs my shoulder again, and leaves. She comes back like two seconds later with water for Chase. I’m waiting for him to hit on her, but he doesn’t. Maybe he likes younger girls.

  “You really gonna keep it all in?” he says after forever of silence. I ignore him, but he keeps pushing. “I bet if we were on our headsets, you’d spill. Maybe tonight I’ll get it out of ya.”

  That makes my tongue start working. “Even if I was going to be home, I wouldn’t waste my time talking to you.”

  “What? Taking the night off?”

  “No. I’m going out.”

  “With who?”

  Why does he care? He’s leaning forward and getting all red in the face. Where’s the big jerky bad boy?

  “Alex.”

  His face goes back to its normal color as he throws me the cocky smirk. Ah, there he is.

  “You don’t have to lie to me, Stinky. I know your secret.”

  “I’m not lying.” And because I can’t care less right now, I tell him the rest, even though it’s none of his business. He sits there, his expression growing less and less nasty perv and more and more concerned semi-stranger.

  “So, you’re going to be his fake girlfriend for the night?”

  I shrug. “I’ve been playing the role for a while now.”

  “Hmm.”

  Oh, I know what that sound means. It’s called the I-have-an-opinion-but-I’ll-keep-my-mouth-shut-till-you-ask-for-it. Well, he can keep that opinion and shove it right up his—

  “Here you are,” Tiffany says, placing the two platters on the table. “Does everything look to your liking?”

  Instead of gazing at my food, which I’m sure is just fine, since I’m the owner’s daughter, and Dad’ll fire anyone’s can if I’m not satisfied, I grin at Moron, expecting the sickly green face that comes from normal people when they realize they’re about to eat an octopus.

  But he’s good. Too good. He claps his hands together in anticipation, his eyes wide and excited as he looks at the buttery tentacles. “Delicious,” he says, laying on that yucky “charm.” “Thank you.”

  Well played. Let’s see if he can choke it down.

  Tiffany walks away after filling our drinks again. My face falls as Chase digs into his food, not barfing or anything. Grr. Payback fail. I’ll have to come up with something better.

  “You’ve had octopus before?” I ask, starting on my own plate.

  He nods, shoving his mouthful into his cheek before talking. “Your dad has good taste. Not many people have a sophisticated palette. They just fake it to look good.”

  I nod, because I can’t think of anything to say, and stuff my face with more octopus. I know, I’m eating in like two hours at Alex’s. But like I said, I knew my appetite would come screaming back at me. Started at four this morning, when I downed that entire lobster and cheesecake Carrie left in my room. Then continued throughout the day with bacon and eggs, chicken parmesan, and licorice any time my mouth wasn’t full of something.

  I’m surprised I’m not three thousand pounds since I do this every time my parents blow me off.

  “Well?”

  My eyes snap up to meet his. They’re blue today. “Eh?” I say through my food.

  He laughs. “I asked when you had to be with your boyfriend.”

  I glance at the clock on the wall. “In about two hours.”

  He leans back and kicks his feet up so they’re right next to my butt on my side of the booth. I almost push them off, but it actually looks crazy comfy, so I do the same, setting my heels on the edge of his side.

  “Then spill. What’s got you down?”

  “What makes you think I’m ‘down’?”

  “The look on your face when I came in.”

  “Maybe it’s ’cause I saw you.”

  He gasps, making a big show of pretending to be hurt by that. When I kick his thigh, he chuckles. “Really, Kel. What’s up?”

  My stomach does some weird twist turny, popcorn-filled motion. He called me Kel. The only time he did that was when he was being a complete perv at that bowling alley. And it was creepy then.

  Why is it not creepy now?

  I close my eyes, rubbing them with my thumb and forefinger. “Why the crap do you care?”

  “Because despite our sparring, I like you.” He hesitates and I look up at him, expecting that dumb smirk, but it’s not there. He’s all pink-faced and shaky, scratching the hair on his chin like crazy.

  More popcorn pops in my tummy. “Uh, my parents went to Paris,” I blurt.

  His brow furrows. He stops shaking and says, “And you wanted to go?”

  I sigh. How do I explain how messed up this is without losing it? Do I even want to tell this jackhole? But as I look at him, I guess he’s not all bad. Just annoying. Like a brother.

  Yes, a brother! Epiphany moment! That’s why I have such strong feelings when it comes to him. Siblings do this whole rivalry thing, right?

  I’m right about this. I am!

  “Yes . . . no . . . it’s weird, you know?”

  He waits for me to plunge on, putting another bite in his mouth.

  I sigh again, but it comes out like a growl. “It’s just, they totally suck! It’s not the trip, though Paris would be awesome. They are never around. And I just want to know why they don’t want to spend time with their own daughter bef
ore she disappears . . .”

  “You some sort of magician?” he jokes.

  Oh, wonderful Kelli! You just barfed out all of that to someone who doesn’t care. I shake my head and wave Tiffany over and ask for the check.

  Moron slides his feet off the booth and leans across the table. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad. I was listening. I’m just wondering where you plan on disappearing to.”

  “Anywhere.”

  He moves forward again. “Then go. You’re old enough, right?”

  “How old do you think I am?”

  “I don’t know. Twenty?”

  “Eighteen.”

  His eyes widen. “Didn’t you say twenty online?”

  That’s because I didn’t want to attract any perverts, but look how well that worked for me. “Everyone lies about their age. You obviously did.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I think you’re actually twelve living in a man’s body.”

  He laughs, his eyes going back to normal size. “You’re on to me.”

  Tiffany comes back with the check, places it at the end of the table. I always pay here, because I don’t like getting free service and food just because I sort of own the place. That money can go to someone’s paycheck and tip.

  But surprise surprise, Moron’s hand collides with mine as we reach for the folder.

  Okay, that should not give me goose bumps and make the popcorn go nuts in my belly, but it does. His fingers are calloused and warm and all that other stuff I should not notice when he’s touching me. Because he’s like a brother.

  A brother I tell you!

  “What are you doing?” I say like an idiot.

  “I’m paying.” He smiles and slides the bill from under my grasp. I’m too flustered to stop him. “You paid for our last date.”

  “This isn’t a date,” I blurt. “And neither was the spa.”

  He shrugs. “Okay, then I’m paying because we spend every Friday night together, and I count those as dates. Since we can’t tonight, this will be our Friday date.” He winks as he hands Tiffany the bill. He didn’t even look at it before sliding his card in there. I bet it declines. Based on his one-tone wardrobe, I’m guessing he’s not used to hundred-dollar plates.

  But, like the other million times today, I’m wrong. Tiffany comes back, smile on her face and check in hand. Moron signs and we slide out of the booth without a word to each other.

  He opens the door for me and I step through trying not to get too close to him. It’s pretty blazing hot outside, and I wish I brought my sunglasses. In my haste to escape mi casa suckfest, I didn’t stock my purse. You see? My parents have me all sorts of screwed up.

  Moron throws his jacket over his arm and steps next to me. I didn’t drive—never do when I go to the restaurant. Parking here blows and I hate valet. I pull my phone out to call a cab, but Chase distracts me.

  “Maybe you could just jet out there yourself.”

  “Um, what?”

  “To Paris.” He smiles, glancing sideways at me as we stand by the curb. “Just pop up in France, and pretend like you completely forgot they were there too.”

  It’s a pretty dumb idea, and I know he’s joking, but I’m laughing at him. Because I was thinking the same thing last night.

  “Yeah.”

  And that’s all I say, because I actually feel . . . better. I feel better after talking with Moron. Freaky.

  “You want to walk?” he asks, getting all pink-faced again.

  My eyebrows shoot upward. “You didn’t drive?”

  “Nah, took a cab. My roommate’s got my car.”

  What the heck, right? I may as well work off all the food I’ve shot straight to my thighs today.

  “Sure.”

  Chapter 11

  I’m pretty sure there was some drug floating in the air at my dad’s restaurant, because I must’ve been on something to subject myself to more of Moron’s company. But now outside in the fresh air, my senses are back. And if I wasn’t wearing heels, I’d run as fast and as far away from him as I could.

  “I knew I recognized that GPS voice.” He’s been talking nonstop since we left, and trying to swing his arm around me. I’ve plucked it off like a big nasty stray piece of hair every time. “It sounds exactly like you on that headset.”

  “Uh-huh,” I huff. He keeps getting closer to me. I’m going to push him into traffic if he keeps it up.

  He smirks. That really annoying one. “Am I bothering you?”

  “Yes.”

  His arm goes around my shoulders again and he leans in. His lips are right there by my ear. “Good.”

  I shove him off again, but in the process I misstep. My heel snaps off and I tumble forward. His reflexes are pretty awesome since he snags my waist before I go nose first into the cement.

  As soon as I get my balance I push him off again. Stop touching me, for real!

  He laughs as I hobble down the street, one shoe about three inches shorter than the other. “You know,” he says, catching up with me, “I’ve heard that can be bad for your back.”

  “Fine.” I yank off my heels and toss them in the closest garbage can. We’ve just crossed the Sundale Community Sign, and Friday is garbage day. Letting out a little whimper as my five-hundred-dollar heels hit the bottom, I turn from the trash and start walking down the sidewalk again. Only thing is, the cement is boiling. My feet are going to turn to mush by the time I get to my house.

  I pick up my pace, but my expression gives me away. Moron pushes me over on the Levington’s lawn.

  “I can’t stand here,” I say, trying to move past him. “Community rules and common courtesy. Don’t walk on the grass.”

  “You’re going to roast your feet.” He lets out a tiny laugh and steps in my way again. I never realized how tall he is. Like, probably as tall as Alex, so six feet something or other.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He rolls his eyes, then turns around and does this funny crouch thing in front of me. “Hop on,” he says over his shoulder.

  “You have to be kidding me.”

  His smile creeps up to the side of his face—the side I can see—and he waves to me, then points at his back.

  No way. I jump around him, but after being on the cool grass for so long, leaping to the scorching sidewalk makes me stumble right back to where I was. Moron swivels enough to give me that I-told-you-so look and I’m tempted to push him over. Instead, I do something completely idiotic and take a spot on his back.

  This may come as a shock, but I don’t think I’ve ever been given a piggyback ride. I’ve seen people all the time carrying each other. Boyfriends and girlfriends, best buds, Daddy’s and daughters. But I’ve never had a serious boyfriend, and me and Sades don’t do this, and I won’t even go there with my dad. So when Moron’s hands shift my legs so they are straddled on his hips, my breath catches in my throat.

  “Sorry, you were sort of choking me,” he says through a laugh. I try to laugh too, but it comes out all wobbly. But seriously, how can I concentrate? His hands are tucked right under my knees, and my boobs are pressed against his back. His jacket is hot and sticky by his elbow, which is now hugging my side. And his pace is normal. He’s not huffing and puffing even though there’s more than a hundred extra pounds on his back.

  Okay, so he’s not like a brother. Because it would be total incest for me to get all fluttery around a brother.

  A weird hormonal infatuation! A total screwed up PMS thing. That’s what must be happening.

  “Uh, you still there?”

  Oy, he must think I’m a total doof since that’s the second time I’ve tuned out on him.

  But it’s not like I care what he thinks, ’cause I don’t.

  I don’t!

  “Yes, I’m trying to choke back my puke.”

  He stops and my nose smacks into his ear.

  “I know it’s your turn to get back at me, but please don’t blow any chunks.”

  I
let out another nervous laugh and I notice my breath on his neck perks up the hairs there. “I’m kidding. My stomach is fine. I just don’t like being this close to you.”

  Liar! You’re a total liar, Kelli!

  Oh, and don’t forget I’m a total hypocrite too, since I was shoving him away not two seconds ago.

  He adjusts me again and starts walking. “I doubt that. You’ve wanted to be close to me since the bowling alley.”

  Okay, now he’s gagworthy. Guy must be bipolar. “Ew. You even said yourself you were being a total jackhole that night.”

  He shrugs, and that’s when I notice I’ve settled my chin on his shoulder. Yikes! I pull my face back as far from his as I can.

  “Yeah, I was. But only because you made me nervous.”

  “Is that another one of your lines? Because it won’t work on me.”

  He laughs and scoots me up. “I knew you’d see through that one.”

  “I see through all your bull.” Now I’m laughing.

  For some bizarre reason, when he gets to my gate, disappointment washes through my body making my lip jut out and a major sigh filter through my mouth. I snap my lips together once I realize how obvious I am, but Moron doesn’t say anything. He sets me gently down on the grass—which is okay because it’s mine—and moves a step away from me.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say, sounding totally dorky.

  His lips turn up into that smile, but it’s not bothering me right now. Then he shrugs one hand into his pocket, his jacket trapped between his wrist and hip, and waves me forward with the other.

  Huh?

  “Come on,” he says, still waving his fingers, “I want my kiss.”

  What?! “Are you crazy? What kiss?”

  “The one you’ve been dying to give me.”

  And there he goes, ruining everything and making whatever was going on in my brain leak out my ears. He’s still a perv. The same jackhole from the bowling alley. The same jerk who mooned me at the club. The same guy who dumped me in the pool.

  He’s still Moron. The college player who won’t leave me the crap alone.

  And like I’m two, I stick my tongue out at him, and walk through my gate, slamming it in his face behind me.

  Chapter 12