Every Boy's Got One (41 page)
Read Every Boy's Got One Online
Authors: Meg Cabot
Tags: #Romance, #Humorous, #General, #Contemporary, #Fiction
Cal: “PAOLO? The half-wit mechanic?” Me: “Yeah, but at least he wasn’t going around bleating that there’s no such thing as romantic love. At least he believed in marriage.”
Cal: “The guy didn’t speak any English! I doubt he had any idea he was GETTING married.”
Me: “Go on feeling all superior to us poor suckers who believe in love and monogamy and want to find someone with whom we can spend the rest of our lives. Because you know what’s going to happen twenty years from now? I’m going to be with someone—someone I can have breakfast with and read the paper with and watch stupid movies with and sleep with and go on vacation with, someone who WON’T cheat on me, the way your wife cheated on you, because I’m going to marry someone who loves me for me and not my money or whatever—and you’re going to be all alone. I hope you like it.”
Cal: “Well, thank you very much. I’m sure I will. And I hope you and Paolo will have a happy and prosperous life together. For your thirty-fifth anniversary, might I recommend a cruise?”
Me: “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.” Cal: “Well. I guess we have nothing more to say to each other, then.”
Me: “I guess we don’t. Good night.”
Then I swept off the terrazza and came up here and wrote all this.
I think I made quite an impression on him.
I just wish I hadn’t tripped over the threshold when I was going inside.
But I really don’t think he noticed.
Now it’s quiet—I guess he must still be down there, since I didn’t hear him come up. All I can hear are the crickets outside.
Still…
I can’t help wondering if I did the right thing. I mean, I think we WOULD have had a good time. He really is a good kisser.
And you know, he can be fun—like in the consulate’s office— when he lets himself.
And he’s obviously smart. It’s not like we’d ever run out of things to talk about.
Okay, argue about. But whatever.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty to shove him away….
No. No, I did the right thing. Because what would have been the point? A night of bliss and then what? He’d just go back to his skanks.
Only this time, I’d be one of them! Oh my God, I wouldn’t be able to BEAR the idea of him thinking of me that way. As another woman he’d scored. I couldn’t. I just think I’m worth more than that.
You know, I’m starting to think that The Dude might actually be my soul mate. He’s everything you’d want in a man… loyal, trustworthy, attentive, handsome, smart, not afraid of commitment… he even has a good sense of humor.
Too bad about the fish breath, though.
Oh, damn. I left my bottle of water downstairs. I wonder if I can sneak down and get it without running into himagain…. Maybe if I don’t put on any shoes.
PDA of Cal Langdon
Well.
That was… unusual. I mean, it was just a kiss….
A really good one. An exceptional one, I’d have to say. I’ve kissed quite a few women in my day, but that one certainly stands out.
Obviously, however, I made an error in judgement. A grave one.
Still, it wasn’t like she didn’t kiss back. At first.
But she’s right, of course. It would have been a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. I never do things like that. Act on impulse in that way, I mean. I can’t imagine why I thought…. It isn’t as if it couldgo anywhere, she’s completely right. We live in two entirely different worlds.
Still, she’s an artist. You’d think she’d be a little more receptive to taking a risk.
Well, it’s lucky she resisted. She’s clearly one of those clingy, needy ones, if she can jump straight from a kiss—which was all it really was, no matter what she thinks—into a full-blown relationship. She’d probably have asked me to move in after our first time making love, then spend every weekend in the foreseeable future whining about wanting to take me to meet her parents.
Or worse, be her date to some friend’s wedding.
Shudder.
No, I made a lucky escape with this one. She’s clearly no Grazi. There’d be no more pleasure for pleasure’s sake, here. Obviously, I overestimated her intelligence.
It was those damn shoes.
Why does she even wear the stupid things, when she clearly can’t even walk in them?
Anyway, this is all for the best. The last thing in the world I need right now is to be saddled with some marriage-crazed cat cartoonist. I need to get to work on my next book, and it’ll be much easier to do that if I’m unfettered, relationship-wise.
And despite what she might think, I happen to likeeating breakfast alone. And I’ve never had to sleep alone if I didn’t want to.
Well, except for tonight.
PDA of Cal Langdon
Ski boarders? Musicians? Just who has this girl been sleeping with? Must remember to ask Mark tomorrow.
PDA of Cal Langdon
I can’t ask Mark tomorrow—or today, I should say. It’s his wedding day. He’s hardly going to be likely to want to discuss his wife’s best friends’s love life.
Still. It was just a kiss. I don’t know why I did it. I couldn’t help myself, honest to God. It’s not like I’m in love with her. God forbid!
It was just a kiss.
So why can’t I stop thinking about it?
PDA of Cal Langdon
Upon ambling through the kitchen just now on my way up to bed, I made a rather startling discovery. Ms. Harris appears to have come back downstairs to retrieve something she forgot to bring up the first time she stormed off to her room, and in doing so, has left by the refrigerator something I’m sure she didn’t mean to leave behind: that little book she’s constantly scribbling in, the one that says Travel Diary of Holly Caputo and Mark Levine on it.
Oddly, I’ve noticed she’s scratched out Mark and Holly’s names and inserted her own. And yet, when I—quite by accident—opened it to the first page, I couldn’t help noticing the words:
Dear Holly and Mark,
Surprise!
I know neither one of you would bother to keep a record of your elopement, so I’ve decided to do it for you!
Surely if she really is keeping this diary for Mark and Holly, it wouldn’t be wrong of me to read it. Obviously she intends to give it to them.
And I think I have every right in the world to see what’s being said about me, as I imagine she’s had some rather choice things to say on the subject. Perhaps there’s even a libel suit in my future. Who knows?
And yet I can’t help feeling that I’m overstepping some boundary here.
Hmmmm. Quite a moral dilemma.
PDA of Cal Langdon
Anal retentive?
PDA of Cal Langdon
Modelizer??
PDA of Cal Langdon
I’m going to kill Mark for the appendage thing.
PDA of Cal Langdon
Apparently I’m a sardonic bastard, as well.
PDA of Cal Langdon
I…
I don’t know what to say. Except…
Except I’m starting to think it wasn’t just a kiss after all. In fact, seeing it all laid out there like that in her book, in black-and-white—all of my interactions with this woman, I mean, in more or less graphic detail—I’m starting to realize that it might be… it could ONLY be.
But that’s IMPOSSIBLE. I’m overtired, that’s all. It’s nearly three in the morning, for Christ’s sake.
And yet there’s no denying that sometimes when I look at her, I think—
No. It’s the tattoo. That damned tattoo and those stupid shoes. They’re DESIGNED to make a man think things like that.
