Effortless With You (2 page)

Marissa, a master in the art of attraction.

***

The country club’s locker room makes me nervous. I shimmy off the wet-suit bottoms over my hips. My hand automatically avoids the dark purple scar that rests below. The locker handles mock me. It’s like they share secrets with the gym ones back at school. I was never safe after basketball practice.

I slip on some blue lace underwear and take my time getting ready, avoiding the locker handles with each move. I focus on adhering to Marissa’s sparkle makeup advice as I think about Zach’s biceps and his laugh. My tummy flips and I feel queasy, but I’ve heard that’s normal for a first, fancy dinner date. Right? Right.

I fight to get into my skin-tight dark jeans, which I pair with a white, racer back tank with random clear sequin embellishments. The color pop? My red, open-toed heels. God bless Marissa for making me buy them.

My fingers twirl my auburn hair. Hopefully, it’ll dry in waves. I tug on my tank top, adjusting it over my curves. My shape’s not perfect but, like Marissa says, I have “something to work with.”

With the right jeans, my butt’s not awful but my boobs are too big. I hate them. Marissa’s certain I’d look thinner without them. She convinced me to ask my parents for a breast reduction as a sweet-sixteen present. Mom nearly died when I asked. In fact, she yelled so much I thought she would.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory. That was not a fun fight. Mom will never understand that being curvy is no longer fashionable. Instead, she rants about culture and societal flaws. When I asked about the reduction, she started in on the MTV Music Awards and I foolishly rolled my eyes. All of my magazines ended up in the fireplace that night. They were “poisoning my body image.” So I rebelled, buying three-year subscriptions of
People
and
US Weekly
.

Take that, Mom.

I adjust my jeans and add a black belt, hoping Zach will like it. My cell phone flashes five past six. Fashionably five minutes late, as recommended in the latest
Elle
magazine. The Minnesota humidity makes my hair frizz the moment I step out of the locker room. Why do I even try? I search for Zach’s truck, hoping he won’t notice my funky hair.

But it’s not there. He must be caught in traffic. I sit on the bench and wait.

And I wait.

A long time.

My cell displays six thirty-seven. Maybe work is keeping him? The Fireside Bowling Alley often has a dinner rush. I check my phone, but no calls. I text him.

Me: I’m sure Fireside is busy. Take your time.

I really can wait. I have nowhere to go until the party.

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, enjoying the cooler evening sun on my face and praying it will calm my frizz. I hold my cell, waiting for it to vibrate with his response. As the minutes pass, I toy with the idea that maybe he forgot …

But he planned this. He wouldn’t do that.

A light laugh interrupts me. My eyes jolt open and I gasp. I hate how easily I startle.

“Sorry, Lady,” says a deep, smooth voice behind me. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You just look so funny all dressed up but relaxing in the sun.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” Great. I pull at the bottom of my white tank. I look funny.

He clears his throat, waiting for me to do the social thing. Interact.

Not in the mood. Not now. The dent in my phone demands study. If I turn the phone upside down, the dent looks like a cow. I shift, making sure my back faces the voice. Maybe the guy’ll take a hint? My bench creaks with newly added weight.

Nope.

“So?” he says.

I force myself to glance up. My throat closes. Marissa would freak.

Justin stares back with that fake smile. “Who are you waiting for?”

“My boyfriend, Zach Filman.” Confidence, yes.

Justin nods. “Oh, Zach.” He looks at his watch and snickers. “I bet he’s late, huh?” His eyebrow flicks up with his smile.

“No. I’m a bit early.”

“You’re lying.” He moves closer to me.

Shaking my head, I focus on the lined pavement. The lines aren’t parallel at all. I really suck at lying, but the most popular guy in school doesn’t need to know my boyfriend’s late.

“Well, then,” he continues. “I’ll just wait here with you. You don’t mind.”

I do.

He taps his finger on the bench’s armrest. “Shouldn’t be long now.” His voice is thick with sarcasm which he pairs with his flashy, stupid smile. Justin may be gorgeous, but he is super annoying. He clears his throat. “Might as well get to know one another. I’m Justin Marshall.”

No kidding.

“I’m Lucy.” He doesn’t need to know my last name.

“Well, Lucy.” He pulls out his phone. “It’s six fifty-two. When’re you going on that date?”

“For real?” The heat from the sun must’ve fried my brain-to-mouth filter.

He claps his hands together, leaning back, enjoying my outburst. “Well, I’m bored. Jennifer doesn’t get off for another twenty minutes. I need a little fun.”

“Well, in that case, I’m pleased to entertain you.” Sarcasm rolls thick off my tongue.

“Wonderful.” His hands fold behind his head and his muscles twitch. But I’m steady, not a flinch and not even close to his regularly received swoon.

“So, where’re you love birds going?” he continues.

“Romano’s.”

“Right, Italian food. How romantic. Very original, Zach.”

Blood rushes to my face. I don’t care if it is the typical place. This is my first fancy, romantic date and it’s going to be perfect. I glare back, replying with silence.

“Okay, okay.” He throws his hands up. “It’s a good place. Great food, actually.”

I ignore him, glancing back at my phone. An hour late. Maybe he got in an accident?

“Can I ask you two questions?” Justin prods.

“No.” My filter’s gone now. He’s beyond irritating. Just because everyone worships him doesn’t mean he gets to know everyone’s business. Of course, he ignores my answer.

“First, why are you being picked up for a date here?”

I answer without thinking. “Zach thinks my mom’s weird.” My tongue thickens, making it hard to speak. Crap, shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh? Should that matter if he’s dating you? I mean, shouldn’t he want to get to know her if he’s dating you?”

He looks at me with a soft expression, like the ones people use on injured puppies on those emergency vet shows.

I press my lips together. He doesn’t know my mom. This time he accepts my silence.

“Secondly, don’t you think you deserve someone who respects you enough to either show up on time or at least call and let you know why he’s late?”

Whoa, who is he to give me relationship advice?

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

“No. I’m dead serious. You deserve better.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“No, but I know Zach.”

“So do I. He’s my boyfriend.” I refuse to look at him, instead watching a group of ants pour out of a crack in the pavement. “You know you’re a real jerk, right?” I add.

Justin lets out a long whistle. “Wow. I haven’t been called a jerk since I was, like, eight?”

I don’t care how hot he is. Why Marissa wants him blows my mind.

He pulls out his phone. “Let me show you something.” He dials and flashes me his outgoing call: Zach F.

No. This is not happening
.

I launch at his phone but he’s too quick. He jumps off the bench and I eat pavement.

“It doesn’t matter. He isn’t going to answ—” I say as I scramble up off the ground.

“Hello?” a familiar voice booms. Speaker phone. Crap.

“Hey, Zach! It’s Justin.”

“Hey, man. What’s up?” My gut relaxes. Zach’s okay.

“Not much. Just waiting to pick up Jennifer.” Justin paces, circling the bench and me.

“Right on, man!” Zach is always so positive. His attitude is contagious. I can’t help but smile when I’m around him.

“What are you up to?”

“Disc golf with Tater.”

My chest squeezes. How can Zach be playing a game with his cousin Tater? An I-Told-You-So expression sits in triumph on Justin’s face.

Stupid face.

“Sweet. Awesome day for a game.”

“I know, huh?”

Justin drags his shoe through some sand.

“Will I see you at the party tonight?”

“Hell, yeah!”

Maybe he didn’t forget? He knows we’re going to the party together. He must have gotten the times mixed up. Assumed he had time to play disc first.

“Sweet. I’ll see you there. Got to run, Jen’s done. We’ve got a great date night planned before the party and all …”

No, Justin, don’t do this.
I want to die.

“Oh shit, dude. I was supposed to pick up that Lucy chick for a date too.” Zach laughs.

Three skipped heartbeats.

Zach forgot.

He forgot about me.

My nose begins to itch. Tears are inevitable. But I won’t cry in front of Justin. I focus on my cuticles, trying to hold off tears while Zach’s voice continues to boom from the phone. Justin finishes circling the bench, now standing next to me. So I can hear everything Zach says.

“Eh, she’ll understand. It’s a gorgeous day. I mean, who can remember a date when disc golf calls?”

“Well, good luck with that.” Justin taps my shoulder. I want to break his fingers.

“Right on, man.”
Beep
.

My eyes are heavy, probably now red and puffy too. I take a deep breath, trying to hold off the emotional impact of the moment. Justin’s moved in front of me, waiting for my reaction. He’s so rude. I glare daggers into his green eyes. Hate him.

My phone finally vibrates.

Zach: hey sorry work’s crazy. Meet u at party L8R.

My gut twists inside out. Zach lied. He forgot about me and lied. Why did he ask me out if he didn’t like me? I grab my bag. I need to get away from Justin before I break down.

“Let me guess,” Justin says, “he lied?”

Prying ass.

A ruthless fire burns inside me, made especially for him.

“Can I ask you something?” I don’t wait for an answer. “Why are you so unbearably rude?”

“Listen,” he begins, “you deserved to know.”

“No. That wasn’t your place. Do you think you’re like a god or something? ‘You deserved to know
.
’ Total bull. Don’t I deserve to be treated with respect?” I pause for effect. His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t have a word to deliver. “Right. You dish out Hallmark wisdom but don’t follow it yourself. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks but I don’t care anymore. Now I want him to see it. Staring into his green eyes, I search to see if he understands what he’s done. But his eyes are blank. Not even a hint of remorse. The pool gate jingles and Jennifer steps out. I quickly distance myself from the bench and start the walk of rejection back home.

I don’t look back. I never want to see Justin Marshall again.

CHAPTER TWO

I am forgettable.

Of course I am. I’m not actually popular. At most, thanks to Marissa, I am someone who blends into the crowd. No. After that hellish year on the basketball court, I’m lucky to even be in the crowd. Of course Zach forgot about our date. Who can really blame him? He acts larger than life. Why would he remember a girl who barely has a life?

I fling myself onto my bed, pulling my purple pillow over my face. Marissa does a good job of helping me disguise my worthlessness but Zach saw through me, whether it was a conscious decision or not.

I am forgettable.

My phone vibrates.

Marissa: How’s the hot date? Kissing yet?

My stomach falls through my feet. What do I tell her? I type “Didn’t happen.” No. Too pathetic. I delete it but my phone vibrates again.

Marissa: NM. Just texted Zach. Sucks about his work. Too bad.

Me: Yup. Oh well … next time.

Marissa: Yup, like tonight! See you L8R. Remember: green dress.

The party. I forgot. There’s no way I’m going now. I can’t fake happy around Marissa and Zach tonight. And, worse, pretend I have dignity around Justin. I reach under my bed and pull out a granola bar, a jar of peanut butter, and some crackers. My stash for when I want to avoid eating dinner with my family. I’d quit the family dinner when each meal became a lecture about “The choices you are making in life.” It’s nice to have Marissa to talk to. She totally understands how overbearing Mom is.

I dip a granola bar into the Skippy. There’s no way I can stand being around Mom and Dad tonight. And even my little brother Eric, I can’t handle my toes being obstacles in his car races. I’ve been through enough already.

Knock, knock.
My door. I bang my head against the wall. “What?” I drag myself across the room to flip the lock, not even bothering to open the door for them.

Creak.
Mom and Dad stand as an undivided front. Shit. They must’ve mailed the report cards a day early. This isn’t going to be pretty. Faking indifference, I sit on my bed and gnaw on the granola bar. Mom and Dad file in, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. I’d removed my desk chair when I realized it was an invitation to sit. They’ve learned to stop trying to make themselves comfortable.