Authors: Mandy Hubbard
Dang it
. “Um, we have? I guess I forgot,” I say, giving her my most bashful look. “I mean, it’s completely my fault. He thought we’d met before, but I told him we hadn’t. I have a really bad memory.”
She narrows her eyes and my blood pressure rises a few notches. “And yet you remembered this was my car,” she says, jutting her thumb at her SUV.
Oh, crap
.
“Um, well …” My voice trails off and I look around the lot, as if someone will be holding up a sign with whatever dialog I’m supposed to say next. I can’t let his
mom
ruin this summer. Two weeks of this, and it’s about to go down the tubes. I haven’t nearly
begun
to figure out what I want to do next. I only know the idea of Landon figuring things out, then leaving me in the dust a second time, sends a painful hollowness swooping through my chest.
“See, Landon and I did date last summer,” I say. “As you know,” I add. I want to cringe, but I can’t. I just nod, like what I’m saying makes so much sense, and then I wait for the words to form. “And even though we like each other very much, we had a hard time maintaining our relationship once we got back to school. I’m trying to …” To what? “Um, get into the Ivy League. Which I did. I got accepted to Harvard,” I say.
Lies. Such lies
. I don’t even know if it’s going to cement into something, but for some absurd reason I’ve decided she’ll be more likely to believe me if I’m going to Harvard.
Stupid, stupid, stupid
. “And it was really hard for me to study for the SATs and everything and maintain our relationship, and Landon has so much going on too. He was working on his WSU applications and his rodeos. So we broke up.”
“Uh-huh … ,” she says. Because I still haven’t explained why Landon thinks I’ve never met his mom before, I’m just babbling like an idiot, waiting for it all to clarify in my head.
“And then when we got back to this ranch, see …” I chew on my lip. “We decided to enjoy the summer together. Like last year. So we wiped the slate clean.” I mimic an eraser on a chalk-board, except it’s way too theatrical, my arm waving around in a giant circular motion that would knock her out if she leaned in the slightest bit.
I can’t tell if she’s buying what I’m selling, so I surge ahead. “We’re pretending this summer is our first summer together, so that we don’t bring any …” I pause. “Any, uh, baggage to the relationship.”
And then I nod at least a half dozen times, like some sort of yes man, and hope it makes more sense to her than it does to me.
She eyeballs me, playing with her keys, and I think I’ve ruined it all. “That’s … romantic,” she says.
“You think?” I ask, the surprise evident in my tone. Bailey is right. I’m not a good schemer.
“Of course,” she says slowly. “Forgiveness is a beautiful thing.”
I nod again. “Exactly. So if you could just … go along with this, and not question Landon, that would be such a big help to us. We really just want to enjoy this last summer before college. I mean, since I’m going to Harvard,” I say, trying to keep a straight face, “we’ll probably have to break up again, so that
each of us
can focus on our studies. I wouldn’t want to distract him from his future, and it’ll be long distance. …”
She’s nodding like everything I’ve said makes perfect sense, and I know it has more to do with me promising her that he’s going to focus on school than anything else. And just like that, I realize I have my golden ticket.
“Thank you so much. This summer really means so much to us. A bit of fun before we really hunker down and get to work this fall.”
And then his mom hugs me, and I hug her back, the relief so strong I almost collapse in her arms.
“Okay then, dear, you just treat him right,” she says. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”
And then I smile at her and say, “He will get everything he deserves.”
I just wish I knew what that was anymore.
The evening of the rodeo, I’m lying on the couch, my legs curled over the back of it and my head draped down toward the floor, watching Bailey slide shimmery blue eye shadow over her lids. Upside down, the blue seems bright, but I know she’s only half done. There will be blending and smudging and smokiness, until it’s artfully perfect, the kind of makeup shown on pull-out magazine ads for Covergirl or MAC cosmetics.
We’ve both just showered off the grime of a long day’s work, and after the two minutes it took me to get ready, sliding on some comfortable jean shorts and a tank top, then putting my hair up in a high, messy bun, I’m stuck waiting for Bailey. Watching her routine upside down makes it no less boring, but there’s no way she’ll rush it. I could announce that an asteroid is going to hit the ranch in four minutes, and she’d still use the next three and a half to finish her eye shadow.
“At the rate you’re going, we’ll miss the fireworks,” I say, staring up at the swirling blades of the ceiling fan. I’m not sure why we bothered turning it on. It’s just circulating hot air.
“Will not,” she says.
“They start in twenty minutes,” I say.
“I only need two,” she says, indignant.
“Right.”
She snaps her compact shut, but I know not to get excited, because she just digs around and finds another one. “You can’t rush perfection,” she says, predictably.
“Yeah, but can you rush mediocre? You’re not going to see this guy again in a week, so does it matter if your eye shadow only blends
two
colors?”
“It’s red, white, and blue, not white and blue.” She makes a weird face in the mirror, her eyes half-closed so she can get a closer look at the eye shadow. “By the way, I pulled out all of the stops today, and Adam barely reacted.”
“Do I want to know what ‘all the stops’ entails?” I ask, tapping my feet on the wall.
“Oh, you know. Brushing against him as I reached for a pen. Leaning forward a little to show off my boobs. Giggling and smiling a lot.”
I laugh. “What happened to brilliance?”
“Tried that too. It’s hard to have a brilliant conversation with yourself. He was giving me
nothing
to work with.”
“Maybe you’ve simply found the one guy in the entire world not interested in you.”
“Not possible,” she says, dragging a mascara wand through her lashes. “I even tried the old standby: jealousy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you saw my date for tonight, right?”
I nod. Bailey and I ran into him in the driveway at the end of the day.
“He came by the booth earlier, and Adam was there. So I introduced him. And then I gave him a little kiss.”
“You did not,” I say.
“I did. Classic move, except Adam didn’t react to seeing me with Todd. It was really weird.” She grins. “Anyway, how did your buckle prank go?”
I frown. “It totally backfired.”
“How?”
“Turns out the buckle isn’t really a lucky charm. It was his dad’s.”
“Ouch,” she says.
“Yeah, I felt like such a jerk.”
“Well, the point of all this was to hit him where it hurts. So you did that even more than you realized. That’s not so bad, is it?”
“I don’t know, I never wanted to hurt him
that
badly. You should have seen him. He was totally coming undone.”
She freezes, a mascara wand halfway to her face, and then stands upright again, turning to face me. I spin around and drop my feet to the floor, pausing as the blood rushes back into my brain.
“What?”
“You changed your mind, didn’t you?”
“What? No.”
“So you’re not seriously thinking about your fake little relationship becoming a real one again.”
“Of course not,” I lie. “I wouldn’t be that stupid.”
She stares at me for a few more heartbeats, and I pray she can’t see through me.
“Good. Because that would be a huge mistake.”
“I know.” God, did I know.
I’m saved from any further discussion by a knock at the door. Standing, I smooth back any remaining flyaways from my ponytail, then cross the room and pull the door open.
“Hey,” Landon says, grinning at me. He’s changed too. Now he looks more like the boy I watch at school every day, wearing a worn, comfortable hunter-green T-shirt with jeans that fit him more loosely and a big silver watch I haven’t seen in weeks. He leans against the doorjamb, glancing in at Bailey and then back at me.
“You can come in,” Bailey says from somewhere behind me. “Unless Mack prefers to let in as many flies as possible.”
“Oh. Um, right.” I move aside so Landon can step into our little cabin. His scent comes with him—fresh and clean, like soap and shaving cream, although I’m not sure if he actually shaves. I want to lean into him, let it all envelop me, and then ask him.
“I talked Vic, the mechanic guy, into loaning me a golf cart,” he says, grinning and jingling a single key on a big red ring. “He just fixed something on it so I convinced him it needed a thorough test.”
“Seriously?” Bailey turns away from the mirror. “That rocks.”
“Yep. Your carriage awaits.”
“Awesome. In that case let’s go before he changes his mind.” She drops the makeup case onto the little table with a
clatter, plunks down on the sofa, and pulls her electric-blue heels on. Even I have to admit, she looks pretty hot, in a black leather skirt and flowing blue top. She’s smart enough to know the miniskirt shows off plenty of skin without a plunging neckline. Girl knows how to work it. Maybe I’ll try out her style sometime. For a day. “We just need to swing by cabin twenty-four for my date.”
“Isn’t that—” Landon starts.
“A guest cabin,” she says, waving her hand like it is no big deal. Dating guests isn’t something addressed in the rule book, but we all know it is kinda frowned on. If Mr. Ramsey knew how much the guests
liked
Bailey’s flirtations, he’d probably pay her better. She probably turned a menial week on a ranch into a fun, flirty little fling. “Yeah. Top of the hill. Let’s go.”
Landon looks like he’s going to say something but I nudge his arm and give him a don’t-ask expression, and he just shrugs and turns around, leading the way out into the night.
It’s not dark yet, but the moon is rising above the rolling hills, and the air doesn’t hold quite the oppressive heat it did just an hour ago, although the cement walkway still radiates the warmth of the day. The air feels perfect against my bare legs and shoulders, and with my hair up like it is, the gentle breeze on the back of my neck is blissful.
We follow him to the cart, and I climb on next to him, the plastic cool against my legs, while Bailey jumps on a seat facing backward. “I swear, Landon, if you make me tumble to the dirt, you’re dead.”
“I know, I know. We can’t have you looking like less than a princess for your date with Richie Rich.”
“How did you—” she starts.
“He’s a freaking guest, Bailey,” I interrupt. “He’s obviously rich. The pony on his polo shirt was like six inches tall, and you know what they say: the bigger the emblem, the more expensive the shirt.”
“That can’t be a thing.”
“I’m pretty sure it is,” I say. “I read it on Wikipedia.”
“Huh. Well, he probably
is
pretty rich. I heard his parents invented Toaster Strudels,” Bailey says.
“Wait, that’s from a movie!” I say, nearly bouncing out of my seat. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Don’t get all excited,” Bailey says. “It’s from
Mean Girls
.”
“Hey, that counts as a horror movie as far as I’m concerned,” Landon says.
Bailey rolls her eyes as Landon pulls out, driving next to the walkway, in the sparse grass around the workers’ cabins, following it until it turns to thick, vivid green as we drive up the hill toward cabin 24.
It’s way bigger than the humble home for Bailey and me. It has six-foot-wide windows on either side of the big wooden-and-glass front door, and a large porch houses a swing and a small bistro set for breakfast dining.
“I’ll be right back,” Bailey says, bounding off the cart and toward the cabin as soon as we pull to a stop. We watch in silence as she knocks on the door. When it opens, it isn’t quite light enough to see who answers, and she slips inside and the door clicks shut.
“So, should we just wait while they hook up, or—”
“Hey,” I say, smacking his chest. “They’re not hooking up in there. He’s probably not ready to go yet.”
“Mm-hmm … ,” he says, his lips curling into an irresistible
smile. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, and I’m not quite sure what to say next.
“I know she’s a little boy crazy, but she has her reasons.”
“And those reasons would be?”
“I’m not telling
you
that,” I say.
“Why not? I thought girls told their boyfriends everything.”
“Not
everything
. I’m sure you have your secrets.”
His finger drumming falters before picking up right where it left off. “Nope. No secrets here. Pretty much a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kinda guy.”
I twist around and stare at him. “Everyone has secrets.”
“Oh yeah? What’s yours then, Nancy Drew?”
My mouth goes dry. I only have one, and if he figures it out, I’ll lose him before I even figure out what I actually
want
from him.
The door flies open and Bailey bounds out, her latest boy toy in tow. He grins and waves at us as they approach.
“Okay, Todd, this is my friend Mack and her boyfriend, Landon.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, giving him a little wave.
“Same here,” Todd says. “And, uh, I brought refreshments.” He holds up the small cooler in his hand, shaking it around and rattling the ice.
Landon reaches out and the two fist bump. “Awesome. Hop on, and we’ll head over the hill.”
Bailey and Todd climb onto the backseat, and Todd puts the cooler between his feet, sliding over and throwing his arm loosely around Bailey’s shoulders. She leans in and whispers something, and I can tell even from behind he’s grinning.
God, I want to be more like her and less like the sniveling girl who is actually considering getting back with the guy who dumped her.