Rick follows Weston’s gaze and takes off his sunglasses. He gives me one of those head nods—you know the kind, the unspoken hey.
“Little Miss Molly Wakefield, lookin’ good. Waz zup?”
Oh my god, seriously? What an idiot.
“Hey, guys,” is my bashful reply. They can’t tell because it’s hot out, but I’m blushing down to my toes.
I’m so lame.
Not sticking around for idle chatter, I give them a feeble wave and scurry to the beach as fast as my flip-flops will carry me. My mom once said, “Molly, you can afford to flirt a little. It never hurts if you want to meet someone special, and you never know—you just might have fun doing it.” This is all very true, but I utterly refuse to be one of those girls. Simpering. Giggling. Fake. The one thing I always wonder is: why do guys always fall for that?
I have never once understood it.
Don’t get me wrong; I date.
Have dated.
Do the occasional hair toss.
But over the past few months, as I get closer to high school graduation, it’s a little harder to want to even bother. I mean, I’ll be heading for college at the end of the year, and as for my level of popularity…I’d classify myself as one of those “middle of the road” people—not popular, not unpopular, friends with everyone and friendly to everyone, for the most part. Yes, I play a sport; I’m on a club soccer team called Lake Country Fusion, and I also play for school. I’m not winning any college scholarships, but I consider myself pretty darn good.
I’ve got fast feet.
A few weeks ago, when school first started, this guy named TJ Walker asked me to the movies. Jenna was all agog—again with wanting to double date—but there weren’t any sparks. I didn’t even want the poor kid to kiss me goodnight, which he did attempt to do while we sat in the driveway under the garage security light. I kept sarcastically thinking, Really, TJ? You didn’t even talk to me tonight! Not to mention, he only paid for his movie ticket, and I bought my own popcorn.
Such a cheapskate. Hardly the way to win a girl over.
So yeah. Guys are the last thing on my mind.
But ever since this afternoon in the library, Weston has been on my mind—like, all freaking day. Every nanosecond. When, before today…I don’t think I’d thought of him at all. He wasn’t even a blip on my radar.
It’s a funny thing how a few exchanged glances can change…everything.
I allow myself to peek back at the parking lot just once to see that Rick and Weston are surrounded by a group of girls, all eager to be the flavor of the week.
Holy crap, they work fast.
“Hey, guess who’s here, Jenna? Your boyfriend, Weston McGrath,” I taunt as I approach my best friend, who’s lying in the sand. She’s sporting ear buds, but I know she can hear me because she immediately shoots up to a sitting position. “Whoops! You better fix your top.” I laugh, tossing my bag down beside her in the sand.
“Are you serious? Holy crap, do I look okay?” Her boyfriend, Alex (who has seen this behavior from her before), sits up too and looks a bit affronted, shooting her an incredulous look as she adjusts the straps on her bikini.
His mouth drops open. “Babe! I’m sitting right here…”
“I know, babe, but oh my god, he’s so cute.” She digs through her beach tote and finds what she’s looking for: a hair brush. “Seriously though, Molly, do I look okay?” Alex gives up and lies back down on the towel, shaking his head and closing his eyes. Jenna gives him a quick peck on the cheek.
Measly consolation prize from a girlfriend who’s ogling nearby man-flesh.
Alex must agree, because he snorts indignantly.
“Sit down. For god’s sake, Molly, you’re blocking my view,” Jenna practically shouts. I laugh again, because seriously, she’s cracking me up. Like right now, she’s applying lip gloss. One strong breeze and she’ll have sand stuck to her lips all afternoon. “Shit, there he is with that jerk-off Rick Salamander.”
“It’s Rick Stevens, actually…” Alex chimes in.
“What are they doing, putting jet skis in the water?” Squinting, she looks toward the water. “Holy shit, they’re looking over here. Oh my god, oh my god. Are they watching us? I can’t look.”
Oh yeah, did I mention Jenna is dramatic?
She should be the star of her own reality show.
No really, just ask her.
I force myself not to look over at the guys. Honestly, I have enough drama with Jenna practically hyperventilating on her beach towel next to me. If I didn’t know her so well, I would feel horrible for her boyfriend, but no one is more caring and loyal than my best friend.
Jenna and I met in third grade, the year I moved from the private Catholic elementary school over to the public school in our small town of River Glen, Illinois. Believe it or not, the two schools are directly across the street from each other, which I guess is small-town living for you.