We both laugh. I sip my drink, thinking of how much I love being with Jared, and how at this moment I feel utterly, supremely happy.
“What are you thinking?” Jared asks.
“That I’m happy to be here.”
“Here on earth, or here with me?”
“Here with you. And on earth, I suppose. But mainly with you.”
He laughs, then kisses me softly. “Want to know what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew right away that you were somebody I wanted to be close to. There was something different about you. It’s like…you know who you are.”
I smile. I really am his Girl #13, the one he wanted all along.
seventeen
On Balancing Time Between Friends and Boyfriends
There are some things that are so obvious that the Oracle shouldn’t have to write about them. Nevertheless, the Oracle sees the same disturbing trends year after year—people ditching their friends for their new love interest!
This is a MISTAKE for several reasons. The first reason? Unless you marry the person you’re dating right now, your relationship will eventually end. When that happens, you will have no friends left! Certainly no friends when you need a shoulder to cry on.
But there are other reasons, too.
If you ditch your friends, you are—whether you like it or not—giving your boyfriend a dangerous message: that he is your priority. You are acting like he is so special that you’re willing to trade in years of friendship for him. This can backfire! He might a) feel like you’re too clingy and pull away from you, or b) feel like he’s in control of the relationship because he knows that you don’t have a social life without him.
Making sure that you do right by your friends is especially important for teens. You are not going to get married anytime soon, so why act like it?
How can you balance friendship with romance? Here are three suggestions:
1) Friday and Saturday nights are prized territory. Divide them equally between your friends and your boyfriend—yes, that means one night each!
2) Bring your boyfriend, on occasion, when you’re going out with your friends.
3) It’s natural that your friends will feel a little upset when they notice that you’re spending less time with them. Let them know how much they mean to you. Keep calling them!
“HEY, TRACE,” I SAY into the phone. “How was Connecticut?”
“Fine. Scott and I broke up. Could you come over?”
“I’ll leave right now.”
I grab my jacket and jog to the station. It’s Sunday so I have to wait twenty freaking minutes for the train.
What happened between her and Scott? Who broke up with whom? Is she crushed? If Scott played her again, I’m going to hire someone to break his kneecaps.
When I get off the subway, I jog the two blocks to the high-rise where she lives. I hope she’s not going to be bawling when I get there. She’s cried so much over Scott, I can’t bear to see it again.
Tracey buzzes me into the building and I take the elevator up to the sixth floor. When she opens the door, she looks fragile. We hug.
“Thanks for coming.”
Tracey’s apartment is the epitome of homey. Since heating is included in the cost of her rent, she keeps it warm and toasty. She bought most of her furniture when she was in college, so the beige couches are worn and covered with mismatched pillows, and the decorations consist of a few knickknacks from her world travels. There’s also the hint of a techie in here—the binary clock in the living room, complete with colorful dots that supposedly tell you the time, and the computer with two flat screens in the corner of her living room.
“Want some tea?”
“I’d love it.” I follow her into the kitchen, where she fills up the kettle.
“I broke up with him last night and caught a bus back from Connecticut.” She drops two bags of orange pekoe into a pot. “He didn’t do anything to provoke my decision. We had dinner with his parents Friday night, and they were as sweet as ever. It was so strange, like nothing had changed, like a time warp to a year ago. Except I’m not the same person I was a year ago. And it hit me—what am I doing with him again?”
We go into the living room and sit down on the couch. There’s a bag of chips next to me. I grab a few.
“He was shocked. I think he actually wanted to give it a shot this time. It might’ve worked for a while. I told him we just didn’t fit. But the truth is, being with Scott is pure masochism.” She digs into the bag and pulls out some chips. “I don’t know how I let myself get sucked in again after all he put me through.”
“Healing the wounds of the past. I think sometimes when you’re attached to someone and they hurt you, you want to go back to them to heal yourself of that hurt. It never works, though.”
“It’s weird. Even though logically I knew it was a bad idea, there was something compelling about him—like a drug. You know what I mean?”
I nod. Do I ever.
“I wish I’d listened to you, Oracle. How’d you get so wise?”
I have to laugh. “Trial and error. I don’t always give good advice.”
“You’re being modest. Anyway, I know I did the right thing. But I still feel bad.”
“Because you hurt him?”
“No, definitely not that. I know Scott, and he’ll hit the ground running. It’s just, coming home to this empty apartment…reminds me of how nothing ever works out.”
“It only has to work out once, Trace.”
“I know. It’s all so strange. I meet a lot of guys that seem to have potential, and then I realize they’re not what I thought.” She turns to me. “I’m starting to think I’m the problem, not them.”
“You? Don’t you dare turn this on yourself, Trace. You’re the most amazing woman ever—those guys are the weird ones, not you!”
She cracks a smile. “Thanks. I just mean that my judgment isn’t always the best. Okay, sometimes it’s downright stupid. I get infatuated with guys quickly, and when I find out what they’re really like, I’m disappointed. It’s a vicious cycle, and I’m tired of it.”
I give a supportive nod. She’s right, and I’m glad she’s finally realizing it.
“Maybe I’ll become a nun, devote myself to God’s work.” She trades in the chips for some brownies—freshly made, I note.
“We’re not Catholic. And you don’t need to be a nun to do that—hello, our mom?”
“Good point. But I really do need a break from dating. I need to think of a better game plan than I’ve had to this point.”
A break from dating? Now? But what about Rodrigo? How are they going to fall in love?
“Actually, there’s this guy I’d like to set you up with, Trace. From what I hear, he’s fantastic.”
Tracey shakes her head. “That’s really nice of you to try to find someone for me, but I’m not ready. I’ve dated too many guys in the past few months, and I need to take a step back and figure out what I want.”
My sister is being wise. I can’t fault her on that. It’s what I’ve always wanted her to do: think before she acts.
“So what’s he like?” she asks.
I grin. Despite her romantic trouble, Tracey is still Tracey.
“TO VIV!” RYAN HOLDS a slice of pizza in the air. “Now that Viv has rejoined the world of the living, may she have many wild times!”
“To Viv!” we all echo, lifting our slices and touching the tips together before taking bites. Amy’s bite ends up ripping the entire top of her pizza off, and the whole cheese-pepperoni surface dangles from her mouth. She gives a pizza-filled laugh while grabbing the hot stringy cheese with her hand. We’re all in stitches watching her.
We knew we’d have to do something fun to celebrate the end of Viv’s grounding, but she warned us that we shouldn’t do anything that could get her into further trouble. So we decided to play it safe and go out for pizza and pool at a sports bar called Maclaren’s.
Jared
is sitting across the booth from me, his jaw working as he eats his pizza. God, he’s so beautiful. I keep having to remind myself that he’s really here, that he’s really my boyfriend. Tonight marks his first official outing with my friends.
As I watch everyone interact, I wonder what it would be like for a newcomer to go out with my friends. The conversation is fast-paced and jumps from one topic to another. There’s lots of talk about celebrity gossip and crazy teachers and random trivia, with occasional political rants. I hope Jared doesn’t think my friends are shallow, because they’re really not—they just like to talk about silly things sometimes.
I have to admit, though, that my friends do gossip a lot. And when Ryan starts on the topic of Brooke, I feel myself tense. I wish he had the sense not to mention her with Jared around.
“She and Declan were spotted making out at Kirsten’s party Saturday night. They’re not official yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“I finally found out why their first breakup was so traumatic for her,” Amy says. “Apparently he slept with one of her friends at a party while Brooke was downstairs. That was his way of letting her know he was moving on.”
Jared hadn’t told me the details of why Declan was such a jerk, and I sensed it was to protect Brooke’s privacy. But I guess word had finally gotten out.
“Makes you look like Prince Charming,” Ryan says to Jared, who smirks. My friends know that the story circulating about why Jared and Brooke broke up isn’t exactly the real deal. I had to convince them of that, or they would’ve used any means necessary to stop me from dating him.
I look around at my friends, thinking how good it is that we look out for one another.
AFTER SCHOOL THE NEXT DAY, Jared says, “Let’s go to my place. I figure it’s about time I showed you where I live. And Gina’s been bugging me to have you over.”
After a few stops on the Q and a transfer to the N, we’re in Jared’s neighborhood, Bensonhurst. He looks totally at ease on these streets. Something in his movement has relaxed.
“Nice neighborhood.” The houses have front porches from the days when people weren’t afraid of their neighbors or drive-bys. I can tell this is an old people’s neighborhood judging by the people walking by—slowly.
“Yeah, I’m happy here. It’s way better than Sunset Park, where I used to live.”
He’s talking about safety, not scenery.
“Here it is.” It’s a cute white house that resembles a life-size dollhouse. Jared opens the door. “Gina? We’ve got a visitor.”
He takes off his shoes and I do the same. We find Gina curled up on the living-room couch watching a soap opera. She’s wearing a frilly pink housecoat. Nicely pedi-cured toes peek out. She mutes the TV.
“Bella Michaela!” She says my name like a true Italian. Mi-ki-ela.
Gina is surprisingly swift on her feet. She’s up off the couch and in front of me, reaching up to take my face in her hands, kissing both of my cheeks.
“Such beautiful skin! Come, let’s have a snack. I have cannolis. Do you like cannolis?”
Around the kitchen table, we chat about school and the neighborhood, which Gina has lived in since the sixties. I love the way she and Jared get along. I tell her a few things about myself and my family. She’s such a sweet lady. It’s hard to believe she sells lingerie to transvestites. She seems so innocent.
Suddenly Gina slaps her forehead. “Oh, my, I have a customer coming in five minutes. I need to set up!”
“Can we help?” I offer.
“Not without permission from your parents.” She winks and scurries out of the room.
Wordlessly, Jared takes my hand and leads me upstairs.
This room is very Jared. Artwork is splashed over the walls, along with small stars which I guess glow in the dark. A desk with a computer is by the window.
“You’ve got a great setup here. Gina’s a sweetheart.”
“Isn’t she?” He plunks down on his unmade bed.
I sit down beside him. “How long were you with your last foster family?”
“A year.”
“Were they horrible to you?”
His mouth lifts at the corner. “I don’t have a Good Will Hunting story. None of my foster parents put out cigarettes on me. That doesn’t mean we got along. The last family made it clear that they didn’t take me for any reason but the money. I was supposed to get an allowance but they refused to give it to me—said I ate too much of their food, which wasn’t true. So I told Rodrigo about it, and he let me stay with him for a couple of months before he found me this place.”
“I’m glad you’re happy here.”
“Me, too. Gina gives me a good allowance from the money she gets. And I help her out by doing repairs, taking out the trash, that kind of stuff.”
“Does she have any children?”
“She’s got a son who lives on Staten Island. He doesn’t come over often, and when he does, he just criticizes. I overheard them arguing because he said she was stupid to let a street kid into her house. She said that if I ever decide to rob her, she’d get new furniture with the insurance money.”
The doorbell rings so loud I almost jump off the mattress. Jared looks at me apologetically. “Sorry it’s so loud. Gina’s kind of deaf. Want to listen in?”
“We shouldn’t, should we?”
“I don’t think it’ll do any harm. We won’t be able to see the guy’s face and he won’t see us.”
“All right, then.”
He takes my hand and we pad into the hallway and halfway down the stairs. We hear them talking in the living room.
“You don’t have those kinky boots, Madam Gina?” the gravelly male voice asks. “It clearly says in the ad—”
“I’m-a sorry but I just sold my last pair, Mr. Jones.” Gina plays up her accent like she’s Italian born. “But I’m-a sure I can interest you in some of my other stock. Just-a take a look at this beautiful lace garter belt. It is special-ordered from Italia.”
“It’s quite nice.”
“At thirty dollars, it’s a very good price. In fact, I like you, I’ll-a give it to you for twenty-five. You won’t find it at any Manhattan boutique.”
“Hmm…”
“I also have-a these gorgeous fishnets.”
My chest is pumping with repressed laughter. I glance at Jared, who bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. We’re seconds from bursting.
He yanks my hand and we hurry back up the stairs to his bedroom. He closes the door, flicking on his stereo. Then he bursts, and I burst, and we collapse on the bed.
Jared’s laughing so hard he’s crying. “Oh, God. That almost killed me. Gina would’ve never forgiven me if we’d lost it. Her client would’ve run out.”
And then, because he looks so cute, I lean down and gently brush my lips against his. I feel his lips spread in a smile, and then he kisses me back, slow and gentle.
“I’m glad you’re here, Kayla.”
“Me, too.”
I lie back on the bed, and he leans over me, and we kiss again. I see that one of the buttons on his shirt is undone, and my hand creeps into a patch of chest hair. I can’t resist giving a little tug.
“Ouch!” he mutters. “You did that on purpose!”
“Um, I’m sorry…”
“Whatever turns you on.” He laughs, his warm breath rippling against my neck.
I smile. One kiss melts into another, and my soul is filled with bliss. Jared and I are together at last. And I have to wonder: is this my happily ever after?
The Oracle side of me wouldn’t bet on it.
But the romantic in me says, absolutely!
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5486-6
THE ORACLE OF DATING
Copyright © 2010 by Allison van Diepen
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Allison van Diepen, The Oracle of Dating
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