Crash Test Love (20 page)

I force a smile. “Okay.” I take a deep breath and start from the beginning: me and Henry and the J Squad and the bet and Amy and Ben and Destiny’s Sweet Sixteen. It sounds more like the plot of a ridiculous teen movie than anyone’s actual life.

“Wow,” she says once I’m nished. “Just … wow.”

“I know.”

My mother looks away, toward the window in my room. I can only imagine what she’s thinking, whether she is judging me or not. “Why didn’t you tel me any of this before?” she asks.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve. Besides, using Henry isn’t something I’m particularly proud of. Not anymore, at least. I wasn’t exactly shouting it from the rooftops.”

Mom comes over and sits next to me. “Honey, look. Every strong relationship is built on trust. And it seems like you and Henry have a very shaky foundation.”

She’s right.

“But real y, Garret , there’s only one thing that mat ers. Do you love him?”

It’s not the question I’m expecting—especial y from my mother. “What?”

“Henry. Al else aside. Do you love him?”

“I mean, I—”

“It’s a simple question, Garret , with a simple answer. Yes or no. Do you love him?” It is a simple question. And even though I never intended to feel this way about him, even though I’ve tried to ght my feelings and fol ow through with my initial plan, even though the last thing I want right now is another boyfriend, there is a very simple answer: “Yes.”

“Then you have to tel him,” she says. “Tel him everything and hope that he forgives you.”

“I stil don’t want to be with him, though. He’s a great guy and a wonderful friend, but that’s it.” Mom chal enges me with her eyebrows.

“Oh, ne,” I say. “And he’d probably be the best boyfriend ever. At another point in time he would have been ideal. But everything I wanted when we moved here—to be alone for once, to gure out who I am—I stil want. I’l be eighteen in a few months, and col ege isn’t that far away.

It’s time to focus on me.”

It’s time to focus on me.”

“Then tel him that, too,” Mom says. “But talk to him. You owe him that much. You’re never going to be strong by making someone else weak.” Why did it take my mother to make me see just how awed this plan was from the get-go? Why did I ever think that hurting Henry would make me feel “Bet er” (Regina Spektor, 2006)? I could make Henry fal for me and then dump him a mil ion times and it would never erase the scars from my past relationships.

How could I have been so naïve?

Mom leans over and rubs my shoulders. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Garret . You need to make the right decision for you. I’l support you either way.”

Just then, I hear honking. I peek through the blinds in my room and see a white stretch limo idling in my driveway.

“That’s my ride,” I say. “I guess I should go.”

“Honey!” my dad cal s from downstairs. “They’re here!”

I walk careful y downstairs (I cannot a ord to fal on my face and accidental y rip this dress) and Mom fol ows me. Dad is waiting by the front door, camera in hand. Henry is standing there too, in a tux that makes him look more gorgeous than any one person should be al owed to look.

“Picture time!” says Dad. “Come on, Garret , stand right here next to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say before I can stop myself. The two of them look at me oddly. I stand next to Henry. He awkwardly slides his arm around me. “Okay. We’re ready.”

“Erm, smile!” says Dad. “On the count of three. One, two, three!”

We take a few pictures, and Henry gives me a corsage that matches my dress. “Thanks,” I say.

“You look …”

“Nice?”

“More than nice,” he says. “Stunning.”

“Wel , we should go,” I say, waving goodbye to my parents and dragging Henry outside.

“Bye!” Mom yel s. “Dance the night away!”

“You real y do look beautiful,” Henry whispers in my ear. His breath is warm against my neck. I’m tempted to kiss him but I don’t.

“Look, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” he asks.

Before I can say anything further, London sticks her head out of the sunroof and screams, “Come on!”

“Just a minute,” I answer.

“Now! We can’t miss the red carpet entrance, and we’re already ve minutes late!” I glance at Henry. “I Hate This Part” (the Pussycat Dol s, 2008). Our conversation wil have to wait.

The limo is only for the J Squad and their dates (plus me and Henry). Jessica is taking a guy named Frank, who’s on the footbal team at Hofstra, and Jyl ian is going with this guy named Aaron, who uses a lot of hair gel. London is going with a Spanish-looking boy I have never met before, who’s apparently a sophomore at NYU.

“Garret , this is Juan,” London says with a hand ourish. “Juan, this is Garret .”

“Hola,” he says. His hair is long and wavy. “Eres muy bonita.”

“No, you are!” I say. “I mean, whatever.”

“Juan is from Madrid,” London says, dabbing her chin with a Neutrogena blot ing sheet. “Isn’t that romantic?”

“Eres mi princesa,” Juan says, giving London a kiss.

She pushes him away and rol s her eyes. “Everyone ready to get this party started?” she asks. “They’re not al owed to stock the limo with alcohol because we’re under eighteen, but my parents agreed that’s total y unfair, so they gave me a few bot les of these.” She points to what I assume is expensive champagne. “Henry, would you like to do the honor?”

“Uh, sure,” he says, looking incredibly uncomfortable. He unwraps the foil on one of the bot les and pops the cork. It shoots across the inside of the limo and everyone laughs. Plastic glasses are passed around; London raises hers to make a toast. “To us!” she says giddily.

“To us!” everyone replies.

I look around with fresh eyes at the girls I have been trying to impress. Did they ever real y like me? Were they actual y going to honor their promise? Do I even real y care? Is being their friend more important than tel ing the truth? Than surrounding myself with people who are actual y, wel , good-hearted?

Real y, though, who am I to say who’s good and who’s not? I thought Amy was good and look at what she did: got with my ex-boyfriend the moment I left town. And I think I’m a good person, sure, but look at what I did—what I’m doing—to Henry, and for what?

“Garret ,” someone says, “you’re not drinking.”

I stare at the bubbly liquid in my glass. I feel Henry’s arm around me. I know I have a serious decision to make tonight. “I’m suddenly not thirsty.

”

Destiny’s Sweet Sixteen is being held in a mansion on the water in Sands Point. It’s ridiculously decadent (or, as the J Squad would say, lavish).

There’s a stable and a tennis court and a pool with a waterfal . Hal oween is in ful e ect: there are carved pumpkins with tiny lights inside them that line the driveway. Everything looks gothic and spooky. An actual red carpet is outside the front door; cameramen and photographers are everywhere. The lights are blinding.

“This is intense,” Henry says as we exit the limo. He grabs my hand; his touch startles me. There is so much I have to tel him.

“I feel like I’m in a movie,” Jyl ian says, taking it al in.

“Real y? Because I feel like I’m at Destiny’s Sweet Sixteen,” London says dryly.

“Wel , I feel like I’m in a fashion shoot for Cosmo or something,” Jessica says, reaching into her purse and pul ing out a Japanese fan.

Once we reach the carpet, people start taking pictures; I have to admit the whole thing is incredibly surreal. The J Squad make a few funny poses, and I grab Henry’s arm and kick my leg up for the goof.

poses, and I grab Henry’s arm and kick my leg up for the goof.

“Listen, Henry, I have to tel you something.”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing my hand again. “I have to tel you something too. You wanna go rst?”

“Guys,” London says, coming up from behind and draping her arms around us. “We must see if we can score a drink from the bartender.” She turns to Henry. “You’re pret y good in that department, aren’t you, Arlington?”

“I guess.”

“I’m just going to borrow your boyfriend here for a hot second,” London says, ashing me a grin and pul ing Henry inside. Over her shoulder, she yel s: “Be right back!”

Ugh.

I stand on the red carpet as people rush past me. Kids from school wave hel o and kiss me on the cheek, legitimately happy to see me. Is this what I’l be giving up if I tel Henry why I started hanging out with him in the rst place? Wil I miss this? But what real y is there to miss: a bunch of people who only started paying at ention to me once I fel in with the J Squad?

DESTINY’S CHILD LYRICS RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD WHILE I CONTEMPLATE WHETHER TO TELL THE TRUTH AND RISK LOSING EVERYTHING

“I’m a survivor.”— Survivor

“I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.”

—Bootylicious

“Nasty, put your clothes on, I told ya.”

—Nasty Girl

I don’t have a coat on, and it’s kind of cold. I hear the click of cameras and the voices of people readying for Destiny’s entrance (which wil , apparently, be via helicopter), but if I close my eyes al I can see is Henry.

Someone taps me on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”

I turn around and Jessica is laughing while her date tickles her. “Nothing,” I say.

“Wel , come on, then! Let’s party!”

“Yeehaw!” Jyl ian screams, throwing her arms in the air.

I pray this night doesn’t end in complete and irrevocable disaster.

HENRY

INT.—DESTINY MONROE’S SWEET SIXTEEN, SATURDAY NIGHT

There’s nothing like being inside a mansion when a television show is being lmed. Every room is l ed with white-hot lights and dozens of crew members dressed in black. Cameramen pace back and forth, testing angles and making sure there are clear, wel -marked paths between rooms. I imagine I’m on the set of a high-budget feature lm (as opposed to reality TV). The thought makes me smile.

London and I walk through what appears to be the living room, where a bunch of people are (dirty) dancing and a DJ is set up in the corner.

I’ve been to enough Sweet Sixteens to know the party doesn’t real y get started until a few hours in. I wonder what kind of crazy prank Duke and Nigel have planned. This is pret y much the rst Sweet Sixteen I’ve been to as myself—no disguise, no lies. A step in a new direction. Now al I have to do is lose London. And come clean to Garret that the two of us hooked up.

I’d rather gouge out my eyes with a fork. A dul fork. Or even a spork.

We approach the bar, which is humongous.

ME

You know, they probably won’t serve you. But I’m pretty sure Duke has a ask on him. It’s no mixed drink or anything, but—

LONDON

Oh, Henry, I don’t really want a drink.

ME

You don’t?

She moves closer. There are people everywhere; I feel as if al eyes are on me. London and I haven’t spoken since we hooked up. Truthful y, I was hoping we wouldn’t have to.

LONDON

I’ve been thinking about you all week.

Uh-oh.

ME

You have?

She runs a nger up and down my arm.

LONDON

I never thought anything would happen between us again, but I’m so glad it did.

ME

You are?

LONDON

It’s like, destiny or something. Getting back together after all this time.

ME

Look, London, I don’t know how to say this, but … we’re not getting back together. I mean, we were never together in the rst place, and well—

LONDON

Wait. You don’t want to go out with me?

ME

(awkwardly)

No.

LONDON

Then why did you hook up with me?

I don’t want to make her feel bad—at least, not any more than I already have. She deserves to know the truth, though.

ME

I was drunk, London. It was a moment of weakness. I guess I thought it would make me feel better about what happened with Garrett if—

LONDON

Whoa. Take a step back. You hooked up with me because of Garrett? What does she have to do with anything?

ME

We’re sort of … dating. I think. I thought you knew that—you’re, like, her best friend. Last weekend was a mistake, a one-time thing. I didn’t realize you wanted anything more than that.

LONDON

But … you’re not dating! She doesn’t even like you!

ME

What? What are you talking about?

LONDON

I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. You already hurt me once, Henry. You have some nerve doing it again. And I am such an idiot for believing you could change, or that you even wanted to change.

ME

I can change … I do want to change. I’m not the same person I was two years ago, London. I’m not. I’m sorry if you want something from me that I can’t give you.

She starts to cry, and I have no idea what to do. I feel terrible, not having considered her feelings, only thinking about my own. But I real y had no idea that she’d want something serious … or that she would ignore Garret ’s feelings so easily.

Not that I’m in a position to throw stones.