“Why not? I bet every single guy you came into contact with at Duke is obsessed with you, or dreaming of you in some way.” His look is scorching and I seal my lips, unable to speak. Do friends compliment each other like this? I don’t think so.
Ignoring what he said, I continue, “Anyway, he won’t leave me alone. I don’t know what to do besides ignore him.”
“Why don’t you tell him you have a boyfriend? There’s nothing quite like that burn to put a stop to it all… ”
Before I have time to respond, Sash is telling us to get back to our seats. One more hour and we’re off, so I take the time to decide if that’s the right thing to do. Telling Mark I have a boyfriend would probably shut him up; he seems like a coward and probably wouldn’t want to put himself in danger of pissing off a boyfriend. Maybe I can even embellish my fake boyfriend: “huge arms, very protective, will kill on the spot… ” Bye-bye, Marky-Mark.
When my shift is over, I check my phone and have three more missed calls from him. It’s getting a bit out of hand, so I quickly decide to act on Rowen’s plan. Just as I’m typing rapidly on my phone, I hear my name from a faraway distance. I look over at Rowen and by the curious look on his face, he’s heard it too. I glance over to the pool area and the only person left is Sash. Everyone else has already dipped out.
“Did you hear someone say my name?” I yell over to Rowen and he nods his head. Then I hear it again, closer this time. My eyes go wide when I recognize the voice and see that stupid Camaro parked just ouside the gate. It’s Mark. How the hell did he know I was here?!
“Who is that?” Rowen asks, confused.
I look him right in the eye and say, “How’s acting like my boyfriend for a friendly little first hang-out sound?” And he smiles his devious smile right back at me and saunters his long stride toward me, allowing my stomach to deepen its pit.
“Just go along with this, okay?” he says as he wraps his large hand around mine, our fingers interlocked, and I can’t even think straight; it’s funny that after two years, our hands still fit together so perfectly.
“Who are you?” Mark says, as he glances down at our hands. He looks like such a preppy mama’s boy with his blue polo shirt and his neatly pressed khaki shorts paired with some Sperry’s. The longer I stare at him, the longer I wonder what the heck I was thinking when I allowed him to take me on a few dates. Anything to get Rowen off my mind.
“I’m Rowen. Sadie’s boyfriend. And you are?” Rowen croons this with a little grin to his face. I almost roll my eyes at his cockiness, but then I remember he’s basically saving me from a Chester-molester type of guy.
“Sadie’s… .” He looks so blindsided, like I haven’t been blowing him off for the entire last half of the school year! Get a hint, Mark!!
“Sadie… didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend. Is this true, Sadie?” he asks in my direction, and Rowen pulls me closer to his body. I oblige without any fight. Feeling his strong body on my soft one makes me feel like I’m at home.
“Yes. I thought you would have gotten the hint since I ended things with you over three months ago, and I’ve ignored just about every phone call or text.” I say as a matter-of-fact, hyper-aware of the nerves swirling inside my stomach.
“Oh… well.”
“Leave her alone, or you’ll be as black and blue as that stupid car you have.” Rowen demands and his voice is full of protectiveness. It feels nice for a moment, until I’m reminded that this is all pretend.
“I… okay,” Mark says and I can see him take in Rowen’s posture. Mark wouldn’t stand a chance against him. He walks away slowly and climbs into his black Camaro SS, with that lame blue pinstripe down the side.
When his tires screech as he leaves the parking lot, I jump out of Rowen’s hold and my nerves loosen a little. But not enough that I can meet his face.
“Thanks.” I look down at my feet, feeling so flustered.
“It’s funny, isn’t it… ” he intones, and I don’t answer. He walks over to me and reaches his hand under my chin and my breath catches at his touch. He tilts my head up and he peers down into my eyes, gracefully. “It’s funny how easily that role just came to us… isn’t it?” He tilts his head to the side, searching for any emotion that my face might give away. I’m stuck, at loss for words. I suddenly feel my throat close and I can feel the tears wanting to well up inside my eyes. He takes his hand away from my chin and walks leisurely out of the iron gates and to his truck, leaving me to stand there singing, “Friends, friends, friends”, inside my head, as if that’s really going to help.
Fifteen
Hannah Marie and Anna have taken over my closet searching for something to wear to Kyle’s fourth of July bash, the same one he had last year, except it’s actually on the Fourth this year. I only have a month left of this summer and I’ve put a stop to my thoughts of Rowen’s and my friendship. We haven’t talked since our “pretend” relationship the other day and I’m thankful for it. I have no idea what to say. I feel like I’m treading water in an undertow with nowhere to go. I’m just plain exhausted with our friendship, which is pulling on a lot more heartstrings than I want to admit. Where most college students are wishing their summer never ended, I’m wishing mine never started.
“How about this?” Hannah says as she pops out of my walk-in closet wearing one of my summer dresses. It’s pretty, and it brings out the blue in her eyes—only coming down to her mid-thigh thanks to the few inches she has on me.
“Yes! Wear that one, plus it’s blue, which is festive for the fourth.” I answer, wagging my eyebrows.
“Ooh, you’re right! Thanks.” I smile, and she throws some random clothes at me. “I found this while searching your clothes and you have to wear it.” I peel the clothes off myself and give a worried expression. I never thought to pair these two things together, but when I meet her stare I oblige and walk into my closet and get dressed. It’s a grey skirt that fits tight around my tiny hips and it hits just above my belly button. Then the shirt she threw at me confuses me. It’s just a tight t-shirt, and when I look down at my ensemble, I’m concerned. I look stupid. I walk out of the closet and Anna laughs at me.
“This looks ridiculous,” I say, taking in my outfit in the full-length mirror.
“Of course it does; you have to do this… ” She pads over to me, with her (my) blue dress swishing, and grabs the bottom hem of my shirt, tying it into a knot just below my bra. Then she grabs my messy ponytail and releases it, allowing my hair to fall down my back. She grabs some fancy hair product from her oversized floral bag and spritzes it into my roots so much that I choke on the fresh coconut smell.
After regaining some even breathing, I turn around in the mirror, prepared for humiliation. But she was right. It looks much better like this and I look semi-hot… something I don’t feel very often. The white shirt reflects back on the small tanned p
ortion of my stomach and my hair looks casually wavy, falling down around my shoulders.
“You know, you should be a stylist or something,” I say as I look over at her knowing grin. She’s good at this, seriously.