Something Borrowed (7 page)

“Look, Camille,” Mom said. “I don't know who told you life was always going to be perfect, but it for damn sure wasn't me. Now, if you'd rather hold out for every last RSVP and risk having your guests milling around aimlessly next Saturday, I can't—”

From my spot across from Camille, I saw a flash of headlights through a side window. “My ride's here,” I interrupted, jumping up and grabbing my purse. “I hate to miss all the fun, but I'll catch you guys later.”

“Have a nice evening, Ava,” Dad said. He sounded kind of wistful. I'm sure he would have preferred an evening out with me to staying home with the Bride of Freak-out-instein. And he doesn't even like popular music.

I was never so glad to escape from my house. I was even happy to see Jason for once.

“Whew, you guys got here just in time,” I said as I climbed into the backseat of the Prius. “Hurricane Camille is winding herself up again in there.”

“So what else is new?” Teresa joked. She looked totally glam in a sparkly black top, dangly silver earrings, and smoky eye shadow. She cleaned up pretty well when you could peel her out of her barn clothes.

“Okay, ladies,” Jason said as he pulled out of my driveway. He cleared his throat and put on a fake-silly announcer voice. “Please keep your arms and legs inside the car. Next stop: Thermopylae!”

I stared at the back of his neck. “You seem awfully enthusiastic tonight.”

“What can I say? I'm a happy-go-lucky guy.” He grinned at me in the rearview. I noticed his hair looked even more perfect than usual.

“Whatever.” I turned to Teresa. “Wait until you meet Zoom. He's the coolest.”

I heard a snort from the driver's seat. “What?” I demanded.

“Did I say anything?” Jason said. “I'm just driving here.”

“Fine,” I said. “But listen—don't say anything stupid in front of Zoom, okay? He doesn't know me that well yet. So none of your oh-so-clever witticisms about my SpongeBob underwear or anything.”

“Gee, I'd almost forgotten about that.” Jason rubbed his chin and glanced at me again in the rearview. “I wonder if the band would let you get up onstage and flash the audience with your SpongeBobs? Or maybe you're wearing your Mickey Mouse panties
today—after all, it is a special occasion. . . .”

Oops. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it. I decided it was time for a change of subject. “Um, so what did you two do today?” I leaned forward and grinned. “I only need the PG-rated version, please. I mean, I realize you
are
going to be apart for a whole month, so . . .”

“I told you earlier, Ava. I was at the barn all day.” Teresa didn't meet my eye; she suddenly seemed very busy looking for something in her tiny black purse.

I smirked. For someone so confident and practical, the girl could get ridiculously private at the weirdest times. “Okay, then what about you?” I asked Jason. “Did you spend the afternoon working on your hair?”

He shot me a slightly peeved look. “Is that really what you think I do all day?”

“Okay, then what?”

“If you must know, I was doing some programming at my mom's office. They're having trouble with their system and she asked me to take a look.”

“Really? You mean, like, computer stuff?” I was a little surprised, not to mention impressed. Jason's mother worked for
one of the most successful real-estate agencies on the Main Line. If they'd called on Jason for help with their computers, he had to know what he was doing.

Finally Teresa glanced back at me. “I told you Jason is good with computers.”

“I guess.” Now that she mentioned it, that did ring a bell. For some reason, I'd always assumed she just meant he had a really cool MySpace page or something. “Speaking of computers, did I tell you guys that Camille fired the guy who set up her wedding website because he didn't answer the IM she sent him at six a.m.?”

For the rest of the ride into Philly we talked about the wedding and related subjects. Before I knew it we were cruising through Old City, a cool section of town over by the Delaware River. There were all kinds of art galleries there, along with interesting restaurants and fun shopping. The people you saw there were an eclectic bunch—from funky artists to ordinary local residents to clueless tourists wandering around between visits to the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and the Betsy Ross House.

Jason found a parking spot a couple of blocks from Thermopylae. We could hear
the thumping beat of the opening act before we even got there. A good-sized crowd was milling around on the sidewalk out front, forcing passersby to dodge them by stepping into the street.

When we got closer, I squinted at the chalkboard sign out front. “Hey, it says the Manayunk Mucus are playing tonight,” I said. “Isn't that the band you were listening to the other day, Jason?”

Teresa shot him a look. “No wonder you were so enthusiastic about tagging along on Ava's date tonight,” she said. “I was wondering why I didn't have to talk you into it.”

I was a little surprised by the coincidence about the featured band. But I was even more surprised when Zoom didn't show up by nine as he'd promised. Or by nine thirty. Or by ten.

At a quarter to eleven, I was still waiting. “What's the deal?” Teresa said into my ear. “What happened to Mr. Right?”

The Manayunk Mucus had long since taken the stage by then and were in the middle of a loud, fast-paced number. The small club was packed with fans grooving to the tunes. It was so loud and crowded that it was hard to move or think.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrugged at Teresa and turned away, feeling embarrassed and frustrated. Was Zoom standing me up? For real? I knew I hadn't imagined his interest in me the other day—he hadn't made any attempt to hide it. So what was the deal?

I tried to distract myself from my growing annoyance by watching the lead singer of the Mucus. The whole band was good, but the singer was electrifying. He was almost as tall and skinny as Zoom, with an A-plus butt encased in tight maroon leather and the milky-pale skin of someone who rarely sees the sun. His black hair was punked out in spikes, he wore a jeweled stud in his nose, and his voice was almost as smoky and dark as his eyes, which seemed to grab me by the throat every time they passed over me. I suspected he had that effect on everyone in the audience—or at least everyone female—but it still made my heart beat a little faster every time it happened.

Jason must have noticed me staring after a while. He leaned closer, resting one hand on the small of my back as he spoke directly into my ear. “Since your other boyfriend is a no-show, why not pick up
Mr. Rock Star instead?” he said, his breath tickling my cheek.

“Very funny,” I said, dodging away from his hand. “And do you mind not feeling me up? Especially right in front of your girlfriend.”

Jason raised both his hands in a surrender pose. “Sor-ry,” he said. “You're awfully testy tonight, Ava. Why would that be?” He put one finger to his chin, pretending to think hard. “Oh, right. It must be getting stood up.” He glanced meaningfully toward the stage, where the singer was on his knees, howling out the final note of the current song. “There's an easy solution to that, you know.”

“Shut up,” I muttered.

“Fine, I'm just trying to help.” Jason shrugged, feigning hurt. “Who knows, bringing a guy like that might actually liven up the Prepsville wedding a little.”

I knew he was joking, but I couldn't help smiling a little for the first time in more than an hour. It was sort of fun to imagine the look on Camille's face if I were to show up at her wedding with
that
guy. I shivered as the singer's eyes locked on mine from the stage once again. He couldn't be more than a few
years older than me, and Manayunk wasn't that far away. For a second I almost regretted already having a date. Why did I always spot the most interesting guys when I was already involved? First Andy, now Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Dangerous . . .

Then again, if Zoom wasn't going to show tonight, was there any guarantee he'd show up for the wedding? He did seem a little flaky. What if he stood me up next weekend, too?

“Thanks, everybody!” the lead singer yelled hoarsely into his microphone. “We're going to take a break. Be back in a few.”

The band members set down their instruments, hopped down off the front of the small, battered stage, and headed toward the bar. That was going to take them right past us.

“Go ahead,” Jason hissed, poking me in the back. “Now's your chance. Tell him you think he's sex-ay.”

I shot an elbow back in his general direction, though he dodged it easily. I was so distracted by my irritation with Jason that it took me a moment to notice that the lead singer was almost on top of me. He stopped and looked down at me,
those amazing eyes locking onto mine yet again.

“Enjoying the show, beautiful?” he asked in his husky, smoky, sexy voice.

I was a little overwhelmed by his closeness, but I did my best to keep my cool. “Yeah,” I flirted back. “Keep up the good work, gorgeous.”

He grinned and winked before moving on. I tilted my head and shot him my best coy smile in return.

But it was no good. My heart wasn't really in it. I was still too busy wondering what in the world had happened to Zoom.

It wasn't until late the next morning that Zoom finally answered his phone.

“Dude,” he greeted me, sounding oddly breathy. “I've been meaning to call you.”

“Really?” I said sarcastically. “That's funny, because I've called you about fifty times since you stood me up last night. What's the matter, are your fingers broken?”

“Only a couple. But they barely even hurt. My legs—whoa. That's another story.”

“Wait. What?” I blinked, my self-righteous indignation deflating as quickly as a balloon running into an angry porcupine. “Um, I mean, what?”

“Sorry.” He laughed into the phone, though it ended in sort of a cough and
wheeze. “Guess the concussion's making it hard to make sense.”

“Concussion? What are you talking about? Where are you?”

“Lower Bucks Hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Dude, I dunno,” he replied. “That's where the ambulance brought me after I wiped out yesterday.”

All too slowly the truth was dawning on me. “Wait, so you had an accident at your BMX thing and broke your fingers?” That didn't sound too bad, even with the concussion thrown in. Sure, it was less than ideal that his hand would probably be splinted in the wedding pictures. But I was sure the photographer could find a way to hide it.

“Yeah.” He paused to cough and wheeze again. “Two fingers. Two legs. And, uh, like, three ribs. Maybe four—I forget what they said.”

“Your legs?” I really, really,
really
hoped I'd misunderstood him. “You broke
both
your legs?”

“Listen, Ava,” he said. “About that wedding. I'm not sure I can make it—the docs want me to stick around for a while. You
know, for observation. Sorry. I know you were, like, psyched about it.”

“That's okay. I understand.” Feeling terrible that Zoom was in such bad shape, I made a mental note to send him a card and some skateboarding magazines or something. But I didn't bother trying to change his mind about the wedding. Walking in with a guy with a bandaged hand was one thing. Walking in with a black-and-blue guy on crutches? That was a whole different kind of picture, and not one I relished being part of. “Feel better soon, okay?”

“. . . so Zoom is down for the count, and I'm back to the drawing board,” I told Teresa. We were in Jason's car on our way to the bridal shop. It had only been a little more than an hour since my conversation with Zoom, so it was really just sinking in as I told Teresa the whole story. “I tried making a few more calls, but no luck.”

“Did you call that lead singer from the club?” Jason put in. “I saw you ogling him all night. I'm surprised you even noticed your real date wasn't there.”

Teresa shot him an irritated glance, then turned her attention back to me. I
was slumped in the backseat picking at my fingernails.

“Listen, why are you beating yourself up about this, Ava?” she said. “Just go stag like I've been telling you.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “You'll probably look better than most of the girls there. All the guys will want to dance with you.”

I shot him a suspicious look. “Is that supposed to be some kind of crack about the Pink Horror?”

“Take it however you want.” He smirked at me in the rearview, then returned his gaze to the road.

Even though I was pretty sure he was making fun of me, I thought about what he'd said. “You know, there will be a lot of cute, technically single guys there,” I mused aloud. “Like Andy, for instance. It
would
be a lot easier to get reacquainted with him without a date slowing me down.”

“There you go,” Teresa said. “Freedom of choice.”

We'd just turned into the bridal-shop parking lot. I recognized several of Camille's bridesmaids clustered on the sidewalk outside, chattering away at one another like a pack of overcaffeinated pigeons. At least
half of them had a head start on the day, since they were already dressed in pink.

“Thanks for coming along, T.” I said with a sigh. “I'm not sure I'd survive this on my own.”

She smiled and unhooked her seat belt. “What are friends for? Come on, let's get this over with.” She glanced over at Jason. “We should be done in about an hour.”

“Okay, I'll be back—I'm going to swing by Burrito Moe's while I'm waiting. But don't worry. This time I
won't
come inside to check on you, no matter how long you take.” He shot me an amused look.

Teresa and I got out of the car. As Jason drove off, Camille's friend Lissa spotted me and started waving giddily, as if I were her long-lost BFF.