Landry in Like (9 page)

“I feel like I could get lost there and I don't mean not knowing where my classes are, but just getting lost in the crowd. I almost had a panic attack at the open house. The whole place is huge and terrifying to me,” I said. I hoped he wouldn't laugh at me or blow off my fears. If he acted like I was crazy, then I'd feel stupid and wouldn't want to open up to him ever again.

“I can see that. It is a big school, but after a week, you start to figure out where everything is and you get to know people and it doesn't feel quite as large. And sometimes it's kind of nice being a little anonymous. It can be good being just another face in the crowd instead of being front and center all the time,” he said.

“Do you mean because of all the attention you get from basketball?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it's weird. Sometimes I don't know if people want to hang out with me because of that or what. I forgot my paper at home one day and I told my teacher I could have my mom email it to me at lunch and turn it in. He said not to worry about it. I could hand it in the next day and he wouldn't lower my grade or anything.”

“Well, that's nice.”

“Yeah, but there was a guy ahead of me who told him the same thing. Mr. Oxford said that his assignment better be an A paper because he was already knocking it down to a B. And if it wasn't perfect, he'd get a C or lower.”

“Wow, so athletes get special perks, huh?”

“Yup. Is it like that at your school?”

I smirked. “Hillcrest is known for its academic stuff, not its teams. Our basketball team is full of guys all shorter than me and even if they were each a foot taller… yeah, I'm not even sure that'd help them.”

He laughed. “I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I mean, I'm glad my teacher was cool with me handing it in late, but there's all this pressure. During the season it's like, if I don't play well then…” He shook his head.

“What?”

“I don't want to say…”

“You told me I could tell you anything. Same goes for you. I'm not going to tell anyone or judge you,” I said.

He stared into my eyes. “I've never told anyone this before, but sometimes I feel like if I don't play well then… well, do I have anything else going for me? Without basketball, I mean, would anybody care?”

I touched his arm. “Of course they would. And you have a lot going for you. You're smart. You keep up your grades and play sports, too. That's hard to do.”

“Yeah, but I have to work at it. I have to study a lot harder to get good grades.”

“Some people study all the time and are still average students. So you're definitely smart and you're focused. You have way more — what's the word my agent uses all the time? Drive — that's it. She's always saying all the professional models are so driven, focused, and ambitious. You have all of that. And I never hear about you getting in trouble. In September everybody was talking about your school's football team getting in trouble for drinking at a party.”

“Yeah, by the way, I wasn't there. It was all seniors and juniors.”

I said he probably wouldn't have done anything wrong even if he had been there.

“Well, that's true because my dad would have killed me and my mom would have stroked out, so, yeah, you're right,” he said smirking.

“People would still like you even if you didn't play basketball.”

“What if I completely mess up in a big game and we lose and it's all my fault — like no question about it. I ruined everything. Would they still be okay with me?” he asked.

“Yup, they'd still like you. They might set your lawn on fire and toilet paper all the trees, but they'd eventually go back to liking you.”

He laughed. “And would you still like me?”

“Yes, and I wouldn't even be part of the angry mob setting your yard on fire. I'd try to stop them.”

“You'd risk your life to protect my grass from an imaginary mob. You're the best girlfriend ever,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. I thought I would die from happiness.

“But, seriously, even if you weren't a good basketball player, it wouldn't matter.”

“So you'd honestly still like me?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Okay, why?”

My face got warm and I could tell my cheeks were getting flushed. Oh how embarrassing. Even my stupid skin betrayed me and made me look awkward.

“Well, you know… because…” I said stammering.

“Not an answer. Why?”

“I just…”

“Still not an answer,” he said. His face was close to mine now, and I was finding it difficult to breathe and think at the same time.

I cleared my throat. “Because you're so sweet and nice and you have the best—” Eyes, hair, smile, tush. “—personality.”

“So not because I'm so good-looking, huh?” he said. “I'm just kidding.”

His face was not even two inches away from mine. I felt like I was going to pass out. And then this little thought crept up on me. Would he still like me if I weren't a model? And how did I ask him that? How would I even word it? If I said, “Would you still like me if I hadn't been in that competition?” He'd say he didn't know about that before he asked me for my email address or he might think I was stuck up or say, “You're not that cute,” or something. But now I wanted to know.

“Do you ever worry about that stuff?” he asked.

I swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“If people only like you because you're some model or, you know, cute or whatever.”

“Modeling hasn't exactly made me popular with the girls at school. I think more people hold it against me than anything else. No one is trying to get close to me because of that… at least that I can tell,” I said. I mean, how did I say other than Kyle Eiton and possibly himself?

“People hold it against you? Like jealousy or what?”

I told him I wasn't sure what their deal was.

“Do guys try to talk to you because of it?” he asked.

I wanted to say, “You tell me,” but I just shrugged.

“So they do.”

“Maybe one or so,” I said.

“I didn't even know about your modeling stuff when I first was getting to know you,” he said.

Well, that was true. But what about my appearance? Did that matter to him?

“Why did you talk to me in the first place?” I asked.

“You seemed sweet. You were so quiet when we first met, but there was something about you. When Devon was flirting with this one guy right in front of another guy, who it was so obvious he was into her, you got this look on your face. I could tell you felt bad for the other guy who liked her. Most of the girls I meet trash the guys who dare to go up to them. It's like you work up the courage to talk to a girl and then right in front of her friends she tears you down — so embarrassing.”

“I bet you've never gotten shot down in your life,” I said.

“Well, once or so, but I see it happen all the time. Girls can be so mean.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tell me about it.”

He laughed. “You weren't like that though. You were shy that first time we went to Ignatowski's, but as you got to know me, you opened up more and I liked talking to you a lot.”

“I liked talking to you, too. I thought you'd be more, I dunno, intimidating or something.”

“I just thought, she's so sweet, funny, and nice and has this great personality and those pretty eyes. I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “But you're more than just some pretty face.”

“I'm not that pretty.” I pretended to look at a book spine. “I'm just tall and models have to be tall. I'm not even—”

“Hey.” He put his hand on the side of my face. “Don't say that. You're beautiful, but you're so much more than that, okay?”

I nodded.

“You are the sweetest person ever,” he said, and then he kissed me on the forehead as we stood behind the Revolutionary War section shelves. And just like that, my stupid phone began to buzz. You'd think a phone set on silent would be a little quieter, but this one could probably be heard over in the Korean War section. Vladi moved away and I took my phone out. It was my mother. How did she know when to text and ruin a romantic moment?

“My mom,” I said, holding up my phone.

“Don't you ever wonder how they know
exactly
when to jump in?” he asked smiling.

“That's what I was thinking. She said she's pulling up in front of the library now. Do you want a ride or is Steve coming to get you?”

“I can call Steve.”

“Are you sure? She asked if you want her to take you home,” I said, showing him the text. I hid the above message with my finger that said, “You better be good. No smooching, young lady.”

“Well, if she doesn't mind. Do you need to pick anything up before I check out?” he asked.

I shook my head and we went to get his books. He held my hand as we walked over to the front desk. Then he dropped my hand fast. I glanced around praying no other girl was walking in that he wanted to look unattached and available for. Then I saw her — the girl he was hiding from — except it wasn't a girl exactly. It was my mother. And she was heading right toward us.

“Did she see?” he whispered.

“Nah, our hands were blocked by the desk and she's still smiling,” I said.

“Hi kids. I just ran in to use the bathroom. Here are the keys. I'll meet you outside,” she said handing them to me.

Could she have been more embarrassing? First, calling us, “kids”? I mean, Vladi was in high school. And then saying she had to go to the bathroom? I didn't want him to know I
used the bathroom. Sure, I had gone to the restroom when he was around before, but I didn't make a big deal about it. You just couldn't take my mother anywhere.

“Hey, Vladi,” some guy came up to us. “What's up?”

“Hey, Evan. This is Landry,” Vladi said.

“Who was that chick you were just talking to?” he asked.

“The librarian?” Vladi asked.

“No, the blonde one.”

“Landry's mother?”

“She's hot,” Evan said.

“Gross!” I said and they both stared at me. My face got warm.

Vladi laughed. “Not cool, dude. That's her mom.”

“Sorry, but she's hot.”

It was official that even when my mother was just in the general area, she could embarrass me. Hot? Seriously? Great. Vladi had assured me he wasn't into me because of
my
looks, but now I had to worry about my mother's, too?

“Dude, seriously. Stop talking,” Vladi said.

“What? It's a compliment,” Evan said as he laughed and walked off.

“Sorry about that guy,” Vladi said. “He speaks before the thinks.”

I shuddered. “So weird.”

“Are you wondering now if I think your mom is hot?” he asked.

“No. Well, yes, kind of.”

He burst out laughing. “No. Well, she sort of is, but you look just like her, so no worries, right?”

“I don't think we can hang out ever again,” I said making a face.

“I'm on my own for a ride home, aren't I?” he asked.

The librarian was obviously listening to us because she was trying to hide a smile. “You're all set. These are due back on the twenty-eighth,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said to her. He leaned toward me. “So do I need to call for a ride?”

I sighed. “Do you promise not to flirt with my mother?” I crossed my arms and pretended to glare at him.

He promised, but we were laughing so hard as we walked out to the parking lot. I even dropped the keys I was shaking so much.

My mom came up then. “What's so funny?”

We both stopped laughing.

“My friend Evan was cracking jokes,” he said.

I got in the back, while Vladi sat in front with my mother. She spent the whole ride asking him about school. We pulled up to his house, and he thanked her for the ride.

“I'll message you later, Landry,” he said and winked at me.

I moved up to the front seat.

“So, how was it?” she asked.

“It was fine.”

“Did you both behave?”

“Gross. Mother, we were in the public library.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

My face felt tingly as I thought about the kiss.

“We were good.”

“Any hand holding?”

“Mom!”

“You went three shades of red. That means yes,” she said, but she was smiling so she didn't seem mad. “What about—”

“One of his friends from school saw you and called you hot,” I said. I never, ever intended to tell her that, but it was share that piece of info or continue on with her rapid-fire questions. And that woman could sniff out anything.

She laughed. “That's funny.”

Um, the word I'd use to describe it was “creepy,” but the compliment distracted her from her original line of questioning, so it was worth it.

We got home and she made BLTs for dinner. I was getting ready for bed when I saw I had a text from Vladi. He wrote he was glad we hung out this afternoon and wanted to say good-night before I went to sleep.

Vladi: “
Oh yeah, say, ‘good-night,' to your mom for me.
”

And then he put laughing smiley faces after it.

Landry:
Jerk.

Vladi:
Teasing. Only teasing. So did your mom say anything after I got out of the car?

I bit my lip. Was this still about him and his friend thinking she was hot?

Landry:
About the hot thing?

Vladi:
No!!! Haha, I meant if she'd let us hang out again. LOL.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Landry:
She didn't, but she seemed okay with today.

Vladi:
Good. I hope we can meet up again. Night!

I wrote back, “night” with a smiley face after it and went to sleep with the same smile on my face.