Something Borrowed (15 page)

“I'll be right back,” I told Jason. Then I got out and tiptoed over to Lance. His back was to me. The mechanic under the car was clanking and banging on something down there, and a radio was blasting reggae from the office nearby, so he didn't hear me coming. I reached out and clapped my hands over his eyes.

“Hey!” he cried.

“Surprise!” I sang out as he spun around. “Guess who?”

“Oh. Ava,” he said uncertainly. Lance was never too quick on the uptake, so I figured it would take him a while to puzzle out why I was there.

I decided to take mercy on him and end the suspense without any playing around. After all, he was always most comfortable with the straightforward and obvious. That was one of his best qualities—no games.

“I need to talk to you, Lance,” I said, raising my voice a little to make sure he could hear me above the reggae. So what if his buddy under the car overheard? At this point I didn't care if the entire Main Line heard what I had to say to him. “I've been thinking about us. You know—how things ended. It really seems like a shame to throw away three great months just like that.”

“Ava, I—” he began.

I reached out and touched a finger to his lips. “Wait,” I cut him off. “Just let me say this, okay? I think you and I were really great together.” I smiled. “So what do you say? Do you think we should give it another try?”

He gulped, and a weird expression came over his face, sort of like a fish gasping for
air. Before I could figure that one out, the mechanic under the car slid out.

“Excuse me?” she said.

Right.
She
. Those overall-clad legs turned out to belong to a dark-haired girl with bad fuchsia lipstick and a pair of enormous breasts that threatened to escape from her grimy white tank at any second and pop out over the top of her overalls.

“Um, Ava, this is Charlene,” Lance said weakly. “My, uh, new girlfriend.”

“Not
that
new.” Charlene stood up and crossed her arms over her enormous knockers. “We've been going out for two months.”

She stared at me, as if challenging me to disagree. Which, of course, I did.

“What are you talking about?” I said, wondering if those boobs had sucked all the math skills out of her brain. “Lance and I broke up less than two weeks ago.”

“Right.” She smirked. “And like I said, Lance and
I
hooked up two
months
ago.”

As what she was saying sank in, I looked over at Lance. He was staring at his feet, looking as if he wished he were anywhere else. That told me all I needed to know. I could feel my cheeks burning.

There wasn't much left to say. I wasn't
the type to start a rumble in the parking lot of a garage, though Charlene looked as if she'd be up for it.

“Okay,” I said weakly, so humiliated I couldn't even work up any real anger at the rotten, cheating two-timer in front of me. “I guess this was a big mistake. Good-bye, Lance.”

I turned and walked away with as much dignity as I could muster, which wasn't much. Without looking back at them, I crawled back into the car—the front seat this time. Why not give Jason a clear shot at me? With his windows open and the nearly silent idling of that Prius engine, he had to have heard the entire thing. And this time I probably deserved all his teasing and more. Besides, he couldn't possibly make me feel any worse than I already felt. Still, I didn't dare meet his eye as I pulled the door shut and put on my seat belt.

He didn't say anything for a few minutes as he drove out of the parking lot. I figured he was gathering his thoughts for the onslaught.

Finally he cleared his throat. I braced myself.

“I've been meaning to ask you,” he said
conversationally. “Have you ever been to that little Middle Eastern place in Wynnewood? Because that's where I was planning to go with Teresa tonight, only I've never tried it.”

I shot him a cautious look. “Um . . . no. I've never been there. But my dad went once and said it was good.”

“Cool. Your dad seems like a dude with good taste.” Jason smiled. “Hummus and kebabs it is, then.”

I didn't get it. Was this some meta way of teasing me by not teasing me? Before I could figure it out, my phone rang. I groaned when I saw the number. I was
so
not in the mood to deal with Camille at the moment.

But I punched the button anyway, figuring my day had nowhere to go but even farther down. “Hello?” I said wearily.

“Ava! Listen, the idiot caterers forgot to include the cake forks when they sent the tablewear over to the hall, and I have like
no
time to drive over there and pick them up, and I can't reach the wedding planner, and they're saying there's not enough time to get a delivery guy to . . . ,” she babbled, barely pausing for breath.

She was so loud that her voice echoed through the car. “Camille crisis, huh?” Jason
held out his hand. “Give me the phone; I'll deal with it.”

Wordlessly, I handed it over. He put the phone to his face with one hand while steering the car with the other.

“Camille? This is Jason,” he said. “Did you say forks? Are they at that catering warehouse in West Chester where I drove Ava and Teresa a few weeks ago?” He listened for a moment and nodded. “Okay, don't freak out. I'll go get them as soon as I drop Ava off at home.”

I'd thought I'd been desperate before. But I hadn't even known what true desperation was until I hit on my latest plan sometime in the wee hours that night.

I'd spent several hours before that tossing and turning, trying to convince myself that I really would be okay going alone as Teresa kept suggesting. But I just couldn't stop imagining the other bridesmaids whispering to one another and shooting me pitying looks. Or how I would react to Lance walking in with that girl Charlene, knowing he'd cheated on me with her. Or even how it would feel when the bride and groom had their first dance, and then everyone was invited out onto the floor, and I was
stuck watching from the sidelines with my widowed great-aunt Millie and a bunch of little kids.

Desperate? More like crazy. I paused on the rose-draped doorstep of the Sanchez house on Friday morning, wondering if I really wanted to do this. Then I pictured Charlene's smirk and squared my shoulders. I
had
to do this. It was the only way.

Teresa looked surprised when she answered the door with her cell phone in one hand and a map in the other. “Ava!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

I hadn't called to tell her about the ugly scene with Lance, not wanting to bum her out right before her big romantic dinner with Jason. Besides, I'd figured Jason would fill her in. He might have been able to resist kicking me when I was down yesterday, but I was sure he wouldn't be able to resist telling that kind of juicy story, especially at my expense.

“Hi,” I said, stepping into the spacious foyer. Teresa's suitcases were stacked just inside the door, and a mess of tickets, money, and her passport was on the narrow divan by the stairs. “Good, I guess Jason's not here yet.”

“Jason? Why would he be here?” She was looking more confused by the second.

“Oh.” I blinked, surprised. “I just assumed he was driving you to the airport.”

“No. My dad's taking me.” Teresa checked her watch. “We're leaving in, like, ten minutes. Why? What's going on? Is something wrong?”

She seemed distracted, and no wonder. Here I was, barging in on her just moments before she left for a month in another country. I knew that was stretching the bounds of best-friend-dom, and I was about to stretch it even further.

“This will only take a second,” I said, plunging on before I lost my nerve. “I just need to talk to you about something. Actually, I need to ask you the hugest favor in the world.”

“Okay.” She leaned over and flipped open one of the suitcases, sticking the map inside. “What is it?”

I could tell she still wasn't paying full attention to me. But that changed with my next words: “Can I borrow Jason to take to the wedding?”

She stood up so fast I was surprised she didn't tip over backward. “What?”

It takes a lot to shock Teresa. But I could tell she was shocked now.

“Please, just hear me out,” I said quickly, not wanting to let her say no without thinking about it—though of course I wouldn't have blamed her. It was a pretty crazy request. “Obviously, we would totally be going as totally platonic friends. Totally. But that way I don't have to walk in alone, and he would look good in the photos and stuff. And he'd get a nice free meal out of it—much better than tacos at Moe's.” I took a quick breath, not quite daring to meet her eye just yet. “And since it won't be a romantic thing for either of us, I'll be free to flirt with Andy or Kwan or whoever . . .”

Finally running out of words, I glanced at her nervously. Her expression was weird—sort of blank. Then she shrugged.

“Sure,” she said briskly. “I don't mind at all if you two go together. But I can't speak for him. You'll need to ask him yourself.”

“Of course!” I was so relieved I was afraid I'd collapse on her pile of suitcases. “I totally wasn't expecting you to call him for me when you're about to—”

“Ready to go, Teresa?” Her father strode into the foyer at that moment. Mr. Sanchez
was a former Air Force guy, and I knew he liked to keep things running on schedule. “Oh, hello, Ava,” he added when he saw me. “Come to say good-bye, eh?”

I smiled at him. “Something like that.”

“I'm ready, Dad.” Teresa hurried over and grabbed a couple of bags from the pile.

I went to help. “Thanks, Teresa,” I murmured, shooting her a grateful look as I picked up a suitcase. “I really appreciate this.”

She didn't meet my look. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Not a big deal.”

I bit my lip. She sounded kind of weird. Was she just distracted and thinking about her trip? Or was there more to it?

“Okay,” I said, feeling helpless. I couldn't exactly grab her and force her to talk more about this. Not now, with her father standing right there jingling his car keys and grabbing suitcases.

We hugged before she climbed into the car. “Have fun at the wedding,” she said. “You'll have to e-mail me all about it afterward.”

“Will do. Have a great trip.” After one last squeeze I let her go.

I waved as they drove off. I couldn't quite shake the feeling that something had been left unsaid between us. But I figured it was
only the weirdness of the situation combined with the bad timing. Whatever it was, we would work it out when she got back.

In any case, the one thing I knew for sure was that when Teresa said something, she meant it. And she had definitely said I could take Jason to the wedding.

Actually, that wasn't quite what she'd said. She had said that
she
didn't mind if we went together. So now I had to convince
him
.

Now that I thought about it, I wondered if that was the explanation for Teresa's odd reaction. Maybe Jason had told her something she hadn't shared with me—like, that he couldn't stand the sight of me and only tolerated my company for her sake. Actually, that wouldn't be too surprising, considering that that was basically my reaction toward
him
.

But I wasn't going to let a little thing like mutual dislike stop me. Not now, when I was so close to finally landing a decent-looking and reliable guy who
definitely
didn't already have a date to this wedding.

I checked the time. It was a few minutes after nine, so I figured Jason would probably be up by now.

His house phone rang and rang, then went to the answering machine. I hung up without leaving a message and tried his cell. That rang once and then went to voice mail.

I hung up again without leaving a message. Maybe he was on the other line with Teresa right now. For a second I even dared to hope that she might do the hard part for me by telling him my plan.

Realizing that my stomach was growling—I'd rushed out of the house without breakfast—I decided to walk over to Lancaster Avenue and grab a muffin or something. After a couple of blocks I tried calling Jason's cell again, with the same result.

“Come on!” I muttered, punching the button to end the call a little more violently than necessary. Now that I was this close, I just wanted to seal the deal so I could relax.

Well, maybe “relax” was too strong a word. I knew that the hours between now and the rehearsal dinner that evening would probably be filled with nonstop Camille-fueled craziness as the countdown to tomorrow kicked into overdrive. It would be nice to get this out of the way before that started.

I waited until after I'd reached the
avenue and bought myself a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin before trying again. Sitting down on the cement wall separating one parking lot from the next, I set my food beside me and then hit redial. Again the phone rang once and bounced to voice mail.

“Oh my God, where
is
he?” I cried as I hung up, attracting curious stares from a trio of preteen boys skateboarding nearby.

Teresa wasn't much of a phone talker. I doubted she would be chatting with Jason for more than twenty minutes even on the verge of a monthlong separation. So maybe he wasn't on the phone at all; maybe he'd turned it off.

I gulped down my coffee and muffin as I tried to decide what to do now. It was kind of ironic, really—for the past six months it had seemed I couldn't turn around without finding Jason there smirking at me. I couldn't get rid of the guy. And now that I actually
wanted
to see him for a change? Poof! He had disappeared.

His house was miles away, too far to walk. I considered hopping on the train or bus over there to see if he was still asleep, but I decided against it. With my luck, by the time I got there he would be gone.