The Boyfriend List (11 page)

Waving
a hand at her, he quickly moved around the store, draping her with necklaces,
putting shoes in front of her to compare them with the dress, and holding
earrings up to see how they matched. After a few minutes, Reagan was beginning
to feel as though she was his little live doll, and she didn’t half mind it.

Trotting
back toward the dressing room to examine the finished product, Reagan stood in
front of the mirror feeling exactly like a movie star – minus the
expertly done hair and makeup of course. But still, she had a good imagination.

 
“
Now
you’re ready for your best friend’s black tie birthday party.” Standing behind
Reagan, the clerk was admiring his own work. And as she smiled into her
reflection, she couldn’t have agreed more with his sentiments.
This was it!

She
quickly changed, and passed everything she’d been wearing into his capable
hands, which he promptly rushed to the checkout desk before she could change
her mind.

Bumping
the shop girl out of the way with his hip – who merely scowled in
irritation with her arms crossed over her chest - the clerk began ringing up
each of Reagan’s new items. As he scanned the last one, he hit a button on the
register and called out her total. “That’ll be six thousand, three hundred and
eighty-two dollars.”

A
fist of astonishment reared back and hit her full force in the stomach,
knocking the wind out of her lungs. “Excuse me?” That price definitely
wasn’t
in her student budget. Clearly
there must’ve been some kind of mistake, she thought. That was more than most
people she knew made in a month! And this was only a little hole-in-the-wall
boutique on campus, not a major fashion label. Yes, Reagan decided, there
definitely was a mistake to be found.

When
the clerk repeated himself, his voice was decidedly more prim. “Six thousand,
three hundred and eighty-two.” It was becoming clear to him from Reagan’s
expression that his newest customer was not of the means he’d originally
assumed, and he might not be getting that big commission check from the sale
after all.

 
“I think an extra zero was added in there
by mistake?” Reagan suggested in all seriousness.

Looking
at the register, then back at Reagan, the clerk shook his head, “No. No
mistake.”

“Then
the register forgot the decimal after the eight.” She was trying too hard now,
and she could feel it.

“Sorry
Love. No such luck.” His face fell in disappointment. “Didn’t you look at the
tag before you tried it on?”

Reagan
shook her head that she hadn’t, and a frown of frustration furrowed into the
corners of her mouth. It would be the last time she’d make that mistake, that
was for sure. As she racked her brain to come up with a solution – or at
the very least, a suitable escape plan – she was quite literally saved by
the bell when her phone began to ring. Plucking it from her purse and using it
to indicate she had an emergency on her hands, she politely excused her way out
of the boutique.

But
as she glanced back after opening the door, she noticed the clerk was already restocking
her selection, and it was clear they’d seen right through her act. Trying not
to be too shaken with disappointment that the dress wasn’t coming home with her
after all, she focused her scattered attention on the call. “What’d ya find for
me?”

“Hi
to you too.” He jokingly said.

“Sorry,
lots on my mind.” Reagan breathed deeply and began again. “Hi.” It came out
overly enthusiastic.

“Hi.”
There was a brief, but thoughtful, pause on the other side of the line. “You
okay?”

Reagan
sighed. “No. No, I’m not okay, actually. I found the perfect dress for Petra’s
party in a little store on campus. It fit perfectly, it looked perfect...but
the price was not perfect. So, I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I have
nothing
to wear to this thing and you
know how she is about details. Everything has to be... perfect.” She sighed.

“How
much was it?”

“Six
thousand dollars.”

“So,
no dress?” Ian sounded confused, and Reagan was confused by his confusion. Did
he
have six thousand dollars for a
dress? Because if he did, they needed to have a little conversation about that.

“No.
No dress because I don’t have six thousand dollars. I don’t even have six
hundred
dollars, my scholarship isn’t
that
generous and neither is my mom. She’s
already complaining about paying for my transmission. And now I don’t have
anything to wear and the party’s three days away and I have no idea what I’m
going to do.” Reagan stopped to take a deep breath before she exploded. “So
there you have it. I’m boyfriendless, dressless, and energyless at this point.”

“Sorry
to hear that. I would’ve loved to see you in it.”

“You
don’t even know what it looked like.” She half laughed.

“Yeah,
but I’d love to see how you look when you feel perfect.”

Reagan
had to roll the comment over a couple times before she really understood the
depth of it. He hadn’t said when she
looked
perfect, like most guys she knew would’ve. He’d said when she
felt
perfect. He’d said that, right? Or
maybe she was imagining it...

“It’s
okay. Why were you calling again?”
Surely
not to hear me moan about my pathetic existence
, she reprimanded herself.

“I
found some information on your dream guy.”

“He’s
not my dream guy. I mean, I don’t really know yet. Ya know?”

Ian
gave in and laughed good-naturedly. “Right. Anyway. Turns out the guy’s a
senior, has had six appearances in the local paper for his stupendous soccer
achievements, drives a BMW X6 that daddy paid for, and has gotten two speeding
tickets in it that I know of. He has no pets, no siblings, and more importantly
for you, no girlfriend at the moment. Actually, I couldn’t find proof that he’s
ever even had a girlfriend to tell you the truth. Oh, and his Facebook wall is
really, really boring by the way. If you ask me, this guy hasn’t had much of a
life.”

Reagan
would’ve liked to point out that no one had asked him, but refrained and teased
instead…

“Well,
not everyone can be as exciting as you, Ian.”

“That’s
very true.”

“Thanks
for doing that. That was cool of you.” But as Reagan looked toward traffic to
cross the road, she caught from the corner of her eye a very distant glimpse of
Brett.
Speak of the devil...
He was
leaving the athletic building, still in practice clothes, with a gym bag draped
over his shoulder.
 
And though he
appeared to be going in the opposite direction Reagan was headed, he was alone.
She’d be going way out of her way,
way
out of her way, but it was worth the chance. Who knew what kind of opportunity
it could open up... “Let me call you back later,” Reagan finally said, “I just
saw something I want to check into.”

“Okay.”

The
hint of disappointment she heard in his voice lingered with her for a while
after she disconnected the call.

The
irony of her situation hadn’t escaped her. Reagan realized she was not only
fully participating in the
exact
scenario she’d argued against with Petra only days before, but was willfully
taking it to the next level as she crossed the street and fell right into
Brett’s path behind him. Though she was probably about ten yards back –
safe enough that no one would ever catch on –
she
knew what she was up to, and if she was going to be perfectly
frank with herself, the decision had her questioning her own sanity...

Still,
she couldn’t deny the adrenaline rush of being
that
much closer to finding out if she could check off one or two
more qualities from her list. It was the principle of it at this point, she
decided. The quest to find the perfect man hounded her, and she wanted to know
if in fact he existed, or was just another myth concocted from romance books
and sappy movies. From what she’d seen so far, if there was going to be a
candidate for perfection anywhere in the world, it would be Brett. She was
certain of it.

So
why was Ian’s checklist still lingering in the back of her mind? All the
qualities had been marked off already... at least, all the ones she’d been
brave enough to verify. She wouldn’t have to stalk him because she knew
everything there was to know about him. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe
she knew too much, and the knowledge was working against her now. And that’s
where books and movies got it right. On paper, Ian looked perfect and in the
movie version of him, there wouldn’t have been time to show every time he
farted on the couch or his history of being a habitual flirt. The audience
could easily fall in love with him because they didn’t know he was incapable of
holding down a relationship for longer than a month, and therefore prone to
breaking their hearts...

Or
was he? He’d held down a relationship with her for the better part of three
years, hadn’t he? Albeit, a very different kind of relationship without any of
the nice fringe benefits. But still, shouldn’t she let that count for
something?

It
was a mute point, she decided. Despite Petra’s biased observations, Ian had
never shown an interest in Reagan like that. It was a waste of time even
considering him as an option. She might as well throw his list away.

Becoming
caught up in her thoughts was an easy distraction as they bounced around inside
her head, gathering confusion and resentment as she went back and forth between
them. It was too much to focus on at once, and before she’d realized what’d
happened she completely lost sight of Brett. The scattered crowds had loomed in
around them, and he’d disappeared into the activity. “Seriously?” Her
rhetorical question was directed only at herself, before she began to mutter,
“This can’t be happening.” And if not for the quiet, muffled laughter at her
back, she would’ve thought she was the only one who could hear.

Not
the case, Reagan quickly found out. Turning sharply on her heel, she found the
perpetrator was a gangly, skinny man who was standing – or rather hiding
- behind a hot dog stand. The faded gray shirt that hung from his bony
shoulders drooped low over blue shorts that were just a little too long. With
purchase in his hand, he was eyeing her closely, clearly entertained by her
one-way dialog.

But his
comic appreciation for her little tantrum wasn’t sitting well with her.

With
eyes blazing hot in anger – not only at his rude interjection, but at the
entire culmination of the events leading up to this moment – she stalked
toward him. It had been the wrong time on the wrong day to laugh at her, and she
could feel the animosity pulsating through her. One more word from him, and she
was about to completely and totally snap.
 

“What
are you laughing at?” The words tumbled out in more of a sharp accusation than
a legitimate question.

He
said nothing, probably the wisest choice he’d made by far. But rather immediately
broke eye contact and pretended like he hadn’t heard her, while he busied
himself by focusing intently on the ketchup packets in his hand. Reagan,
however, wasn’t fooled.

“No
really.” She pressed. “What are you laughing at?”

This
time he did look up, but merely to shake his head and lift his hands in
surrender. Fully equipped with all the right phrases to guarantee an apology,
Reagan began walking toward him. She was tired of being someone else’s
entertainment at her own expense, and this time she wasn’t going to allow it.
This time, she’d let it be known that Reagan Carter was not to be messed with.
“You think it’s okay to laugh at someone who’s having a bad day?”

But
instead of getting the apology she desired, the guy simply picked up his bag,
threw the remainder of his hot dog into his mouth and ran. Standing wide eyed,
she watched him fly over the grass toward the large red brick building that
housed the law school. She’d scared him off, she mused to herself. That had to
be a first for her, and she kind of liked the feeling.

“Do
you
think it’s okay to run off someone’s
business?” The man operating the simple cart was looming down at her, but there
was a glint in his eyes that gave him away. He’d been entertained by her
performance, Reagan was fairly confident in that.

“He’d
already paid hadn’t he?”

After
receiving his simple shrug in reply, she allowed her eyes to fully roam all the
offerings that the little cart supplied. A sudden whiff of warm bread and tangy
mustard reminded her of just how hungry she was getting. A snack probably wouldn’t
be a bad idea, her plans for the day were thoroughly thrown off anyway.
Flashing a beaming pageant smile up at the man, she ordered a salted pretzel
and soda, then equipped herself with a few extra packets of mustard.

“That’ll
be ten dollars.”

Reagan
gaped at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Ten
dollars.”