Crush du Jour (9 page)

If there
was
a God, he or she was totally trying to mess with me, big-time. Hype was serving two specials that night, penne with sweet Italian sausage and rigatoni with spicy sausage.

I mean, you can see where I’d get confused, right? Two tubey little pastas? Two types of cured meat? When I made pasta, it was usually vegetarian. It almost seemed like a practical joke that Callie would pull.

Not even. A practical joke from Callie would probably have been easier to deal with than this. About every other order I brought out was wrong. In addition to annoying my customers, it aggravated the kitchen staff and stressed me out.

In truth, the amount of time I worked and Anna sat at the bar was something like an hour and a half. But running back and forth sweaty and disheveled, trying desperately not to let Seth catch me doing an allaround lousy job, was so exhausting it may as well have been a day and a half.

I was too worn out even to take it personally when I was the first waitress cut for the evening. For Anna, it was practically a cause for celebration, despite the fact that Damien had been making pleasant chit chat while I worked.

“Thank
God”
she groaned dramatically as we grabbed our bags on and made our way outside.

“For small favors?” I couldn’t help but
add my own two cents. Because really, this had been one teeny-tiny favor. The blisters on my feet screamed with every step. And like I said, it wasn’t really such a good thing being the first person sent home at the end of the night. It certainly didn’t say much good stuff about my job performance.

“Whatever, Laine. You’re lucky that we got you out of there when we did.” Anna rolled her eyes at me and dug into her bag for some lip balm, which she proceeded to apply liberally. When she was done, she offered the tube to me.

I shook my head. My lips were totally ragged from constant stressed-out biting. There was no saving them with drugstore solutions. “Was it really that obvious?”

She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes.”

My stomach bottomed out. Anna was right. Seth’s father was totally going to fire me. He was so busy at the restaurant that we still hadn’t been properly introduced, but I didn’t think that would prevent him from oh, say, firing me.

Oh, jeez. My not-boyfriend’s father was totally going to kick my butt. I’d lose my job and my not-boyfriend all at the same time.

Of course, that
would
solve the problem of having to explain to Seth what my mother did for a living.

No. I didn’t care. Getting fired was still too terrible to even contemplate. It was like when I learned that fat-free cheese was actually worse for you than eating smaller portions of the regular stuff. Devastating.

Anna coughed and went on. “I’m very sorry to tell you, but that girl Callie totally has it in for you. If I were you, I’d start sleeping with one eye open.”

I marveled for a moment that she could be so cavalier if, in fact, the life of her best friend was truly in danger. But after that moment had passed I realized that the two of us were talking about totally separate catastrophes.

And how, even, had I found myself in the middle of two totally separate catastrophes? My alpha-personality had finally bottomed out. I was a robot set to malfunction. I’d been running off in too many different directions. Different
catastrophic
directions. I was a catastrophe magnet. I hadn’t even done any SAT prep since before the Fantastic Fourth. I was now, officially, a slacker. It was a new
experience for me. I didn’t much care for it, to be honest.

I took a deep breath. It was time to spill my guts to my best friend.

“I’m kind of a mess,” I said.

Anna snorted. “Well, yeah.
That’s
sort of obvious.”

Awesome. Good to know. Ouch. “Right. That’s me. Messy.”

Anna stopped in front of the bus stop. At this hour we probably had at least a short wait. By now I was beyond fading—I was wilting. It didn’t help that it was five thousand degrees outside and about a bazillion percent humidity. My hair was flipping out at the ends insanely.

Even my
hair
was spazzy these days. I didn’t know who Seth dated—or even if or when he dated—but I’m willing to bet that his date would have perfect, stick-straight tresses. The straight-tressed girls were the ones who usually got the guy in the end.

It was a good thing I had sworn off flirting this summer.

“I was referring to your archnemesis, Callie, and her plans for world domination,” Anna clarified.

I swallowed nervously. “Isn’t ’archnemesis’ a little bit extreme?” (It wasn’t. I knew that. I was just going for a healthy dose of denial.)

“Oh, I don’t think so. She hates your guts,” Anna continued cheerfully. “I wasn’t kidding about you watching your back. She looks like the type to start a chick fight. I bet she’s a hair puller.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed glumly. “But seriously? I have no idea why she’s so pissy. I would say that she just got frustrated having me shadow her, but she kind of despised me even before that—like, from the moment she first saw me. And, I mean, it’s not like we’re in competition or anything.”

If we were in competition? Callie would win. Keep in mind: caramel-colored hair. This is something that people—restaurant customers, managers, and other random, boy-type people—respond to.

“Maybe
you’re
not competing with her, but let me tell you, she’s definitely competing with you,” Anna said, pressing her lips together knowingly.

”Why?”
I sputtered. “That’s insane.” Like my hair. Exhibit A: spazzy hair?

“No,” Anna corrected me shortly. “What ’s insane is that she and Damien dated for, like five minutes back in May and she’s gone completely
Swimfan
on him since then. According to him, they didn’t click. But I guess that’s not the way she saw it.”

I went through the pop-culture catalog in my brain.
Swimfan
equaled a blond chick becoming totally obsessed with a guy on her high school swim team. They made out in a pool and then she started stalking him.

Unfortunately, when practiced by an attractive teen of the female persuasion, stalking could be kind of hot to a guy. Which meant that I
really
needed to stay out of Callie’s way.

Man, Anna was good. She could get the dirt on anyone or anything. I think it was her even composure; unlike me, she was chatty, warm, and huggy. It comforted people, prompted them to let their guard down. She should have been working for the tabloids.

“I like good gossip as much as the next romantically starved teenager,” I said, “but I’m still not sure how any of this connects to me.”

She stared at me like my hair had suddenly turned magenta. “You’re kidding, right?”

I wasn’t kidding. “If I were kidding, wouldn’t I say something that’s actually funny?” I pointed out.

She shook her head and clucked her tongue at me, as if suggesting I was just too simple to understand even the most basic of concepts. “Damien. Wants. You.”

I tilted my head to the left and hopped up and down like I had water in my ear.

“I’m sorry, I think I heard you wrong,” I said, after I’d righted myself again. “It sounded like you said that Damien wants me.”

I was still getting the piercing, magentahair gaze.

“Yes,” she confirmed, speaking slowly, like I was a six-year-old learning to spell. “And I’m pretty sure I’m speaking English. What’s the what here?”

“You are,” I assured her, my words coming out in a rush. “Speaking English, that is. It’s just—Damien is a bartender.”

Anna nodded.

“Which means he must be twenty-one.”

Anna nodded again, not even blinking. It was fascinating, how stoic her face could be.

“Why would he like me?”

“Because in the history of people, twentyone-year-old bartenders never have a crush on
slightly
younger girls?” Anna pointed out. “Especially cute ones who get adorably flustered at work?”

“We couldn’t
really
date—I mean, we couldn’t be serious,” I protested, ignoring the backhanded compliment. “It’s illegal.”

Anna placed her right hand to her heart. “I swear to the god of reality TV that I won’t make a citizen’s arrest.”

“You’re funny.”

(She wasn’t being funny.)

I dug into my wallet for my bus pass as the bus came chugging down the street in a fit of exhaust fumes. It groaned to a halt in front of us and we boarded, settling ourselves up near the front. That huge, wide windshield was perfect for boy-watching.

“Anyway, I don’t know why you’re getting so freaked out. Damien’s
hot”
Anna, the voice of logic.

“Well, duh.” Of course Damien was hot; he was Milo Ventimiglia with blue eyes. Now that I think about it, I guess I have a thing for guys with dark hair, huh? I never realized I had a type. This summer job
extravaganza was really teaching me a lot about myself. “I just assumed he was out of my league. There’s that whole age difference thing, you know. And also, as I’ve mentioned, I’m
not dating
this summer. Boys are just a distraction.”

“Um, yeah,” Anna said. “That’s the whole point.”

I frowned, and she prodded me. “Say more.”

“Like what?” I shrugged.

“Like how you like-like someone else, like more than a friend. Someone whose name rhymes with … peth?”

Damn, she was good. “How did you know?”

She stuck out her tongue. “Really?”

Yeah, she always could read me like a menu.

I sighed. “Seth’s different,” I protested. “He’s not, you know … just another crush of the day.”

Anna cackled. “No, he’s the blue-plate special!”

“Well, he’s special, all right,” I admitted.

“Poor Laine,” Anna said, clucking in mock sympathy. “One boy is lusting after her, and another just may be the guy of her
dreams. Its a wonder Callie feels threatened by you.”

I frowned. “Damien isn’t
lusting
after me,” I insisted, even though there was a tiny part of me that was easily flattered, and I sort of hoped that he was. “I just figured he was being friendly.”

“You figured wrong,” she said. “If this thing with Seth isn’t happening—which, I don’t mean to be rude, but how long have you guys been working together, and he hasn’t asked you out?”

“Thanks for pointing that out,” I interjected. “Very helpful. I
told
you, my flirt mode has been switched off.”

“Since Seth hasn’t asked you out,” she continued doggedly, “I think you should consider going out with Damien. He’s smart, cute, funny—and he makes a ton in tips every night. He told me so.”

“Just like he told you that he was madly in love with me.”

I knew Anna wouldn’t make something like this up, but I was skeptical nonetheless. I could count on one hand how many times in my entire short life I’d been involved in a love triangle. Frankly, I could count it on
no
hands. Zero. Zero times. I didn’t know from
love triangles—I was a big fat love circle of zero times. I’d never dated a guy long enough for it to develop into any complicated geometric configurations.

So you could see where this news might come as a shocking—but exciting—surprise.

“Those weren’t his exact words, but yeah, he’s very into the Bettie Page hair—”

He liked my quirky hair? This was huge news.
Huge
. My sense of aesthetics was finally being validated, despite the disgusting humidity levels of late.

“—and I think, given his attraction, that he might be inclined to take you out for coffee. If you’d be into that.”

I paused.
Would
I be into that?

“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “Remember the rule? No dating.”

“Laine,” Anna replied,
”I’m
not the one asking you out. Maybe you need to sleep on it. See how you feel by the time Damien gets around to posing the question. You never know. Besides, going out with someone once doesn’t mean you’re, like, a brazen hussy. It’s just coffee.” She took a deep breath. “It’s not like not-dating has turned your whole world around.”

She was right, of course, as much as I hated to admit it. You really do never know. And I didn’t have to make up my mind just yet. Frankly, even knowing that some cool, older hottie thought I was cute was almost excitement enough. Especially knowing that he was being pursued by a slim-hipped goddess with caramel-colored hair. I can’t lie: It was sort of really nice to think that Callie was actually jealous of me. And I was mildly relieved to know that she didn’t totally despise me for no reason at all. I mean, she had sort of a reason, even if it was gross and petty. So call that the icing on the cake.

I was going to have to watch my back, though. Anna was right about that.

I guess you really
can’t
have your cake and eat it too.

Eleven

Even if I wasn’t convinced of my own babeosity, Anna’s words really stuck into my brain like so many stretchy strands of Laffy Taffy. Objectively speaking, it’s not like I was physically deformed or anything, so it wasn’t
completely
outside of the realm of possibility that she was right about Damien having, if not the full-blown hots, then at least the warms for me. Warms were not such a long shot.

The question was, did I have the warms for Damien? It was hard to say, probably because I just hadn’t been thinking that way about him at all.

Anna was right; he was kind of the total package. He was hot, funny, smart, outgoing,
and apparently made good money. (Thank goodness my best friend has no interest in boundaries. She asks the hard questions.) But there was also a reason I hadn’t been thinking “that way” about him. A reason that had nothing to do with seasonal vows of chastity or the like.

A Seth reason.

True, nothing much had come of our overly hyped (no pun intended) Moment on the Fourth of July. Three weeks had passed, and I was starting to lose the glimmer of hope that that exchange had given me. Was it possible I’d hallucinated it? Was I a deranged Moment Magnifier?

Maybe. Maybe I was.