Chapter 12
In the middle of my speech class during Back of the Room Boy’s speech, I got this ping. No need to turn off your phone in class when no one ever texts you.
Michael gave me a mock shamed look. He couldn’t be that much older than us.
I grabbed my phone out of my bag for a brief glance. I didn’t recognize the number so slipped it back in and waited until after class to check it.
Before I could even look after class, Gable nudged me with his shoulder.
“Who you texting during my speech?” His curly hair looked like a skate park on the top of his head with ramps and loops. He held a skateboard under his elbow.
Being this close, he didn’t smell as bad as I imagined. Actually, he smelled kind of good. But he was still him.
“No one.” I owed him nothing. He had only badgered and bullied me the whole time in class.
“I thought your speech was excellent.”
My eyebrows shot up. In fact, I was so surprised I stopped walking and forgot completely about the text. “Why are you being nice?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “What? I can’t compliment you?”
“No, you usually mock me from the back of class.”
“I wasn’t making fun of you. I was trying to get you to laugh.”
I was speechless. All this time I thought he hated me. He was teasing me? I thought back to every comment, reinterpreted his meaning, reframed the whole situation. He was trying to get my attention. What the…?
“You look like a girl who would like, let me guess, like, punk alternative?”
“Yeah, I do.” I was astonished. “How did you know that?”
He lifted his chin to grin. “I can just tell. You should listen to Nick’s Babies and Rockerfeller Roll. Super-hot bands.”
Smiling actually made him kinda cute. “Right. I’ll look them up.”
He paused and focused on his skater shoes. “I was just wondering if you’d like to, you know…” he started.
Catching my breath, I stared at him. This could not be happening. My life wasn’t like this.
“…hang out sometime.”
What could I say? You were the subject of my nightmares and now you are asking me on a date, sorta?
“Sure…” I said, distracted. This sort of thing happened to Marie but never happened to me.
“Can I text you sometime?”
“No…I mean, yes, you can text.” I gave him my number.
He pumped his fist then backed away. “Thank you!”
Walking home, I kept replaying the conversation in my mind. Did that really happen? Did my mortal enemy ask me out? What kind of alternate universe was this?
I had funny little butterflies in my stomach. This must be how Marie felt all the time.
“You’ll never guess who asked me out!” I said as soon as I walked in the door.
Marie was working on her blog, her laptop propped on her knees. She had her glasses on. She looked like she’d been crying.
Kat was the only one who responded. “Jack from upstairs.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
Jack was a little strange loner dude who lived above us on the second floor. We only saw him once a month. In fact, I’m not sure he went out of his house except to buy groceries. We wondered what he did all day up there. “No, not Jack.”
“It was the least likely guy I thought would ever ask you out.” Kat nodded.
“There is another—Back of the Room Boy!”
Marie peeked her eyes over the top of her glasses in surprise.
“I know right! I was shocked, too! He has a name. Gable.” He seemed more like Kat’s type. “All this time he just wanted my attention.”
I dropped my bag in my room and remembered the text from earlier. I picked up the phone. It was from Marie.
Bad news, it said.
Then my phone buzzed in my hand. I read the number.
I let out a scream. My heart started pounding. “Gable wrote.”
For the first time, Marie managed a smile. “What’d he say?”
“He just said, Hey Gabbers, this is Gable.”
I hugged the phone close, enjoying the connection of it. The phone became my most precious possession, my pathway to guys.
“Well, doesn’t it mean something that he texted?”
Kat shrugged. “Oh, time for my Krav Maga class.” She wore all black, and she was gone.
“Is she actually even studying anything?” I pointed toward the door.
“Like a formal major?” Marie clicked a pen.
I nodded.
“Photography, remember?”
Oh, yes. That must be time-consuming. “When should I write him back?” I felt like this was something I could only discuss with Marie, anyway. “What should I say?”
“It looks desperate if you text him back right away.”
“So, like tomorrow?”
Whatever was bugging Marie disappeared now that she was the authority on texting. “Tomorrow would be neglect. Too much time gives the impression that you are trying to ignore him, or you’re not interested.”
How was I ever going to understand the proper spacing with guys? If I wanted to talk to a guy, I always said what I felt, when I felt. I was never good at “playing the game,” and it was frustrating and stressful. But if the end result was a satisfying relationship then shouldn’t I learn how to play?
“So how much time?” I asked.
“I’d wait two minutes.”
“Two minutes?” I glanced at the time stamp on my text. “How much time has passed?”
“Wait until the second notification. That’s always a good spacing”
“Right.” I bunched my lips together, my thumbs trembling over the keyboard. “What should I write?”
“Keep it short, funny. And only ask one question at a time.”
I thought of the long texts, peppered with questions I sent Beau. No wonder he never responded. “I thought questions were the essence of conversation.”
“Sure, if you are standing right next to him and you have his undivided attention. Then you could better gauge the whole situation. But in the text world, you could be competing with who knows what? SNL, or NFL. You have to have an impact. This is your brand. How do you see yourself and promote yourself out there? If you start pestering him with a ton of questions, he’s going to shut down or maybe answer one of them. But he’ll lose interest. You become too much work. Guys are simple. Most have one-track minds. They can’t go three different directions in a text. If you must ask a question, make it short or funny.”
“So like…” My brain was a scrambled mess. Why was there so much pressure riding on a few little words? My brand, she said. What did I want to say in my subtext? That I was confident, funny, low maintenance, and could live without him? I was more compelling than anything else he was doing, and he should drop whatever he was doing to pay attention to me?
How do I translate that into words?
And be funny?
“Should I be like, Gable who?”
Marie shook her head. “No, that implies you’ve forgotten him even in jest. You shouldn’t crush anyone’s sensitive ego.”
“Gable doesn’t suffer for lack of ego.”
“True, but he’s looking for someone who accepts that and doesn’t mess with it. Don’t mess with the ego!”
“Okay, okay.” I looked down at my screen, reading and rereading the words. I bet he didn’t agonize over what to write like I was. This was pathetic. I felt pathetic. “Now I’ve thought about it too much. It probably doesn’t mean anything anyway.”
“He’s given you a nickname, that’s encouraging.”
Gabbers.Yeah, that’s flattering. Why didn’t guys worry about fluffing our egos?
The second notification dinged. “Okay, I need the perfect thing to write back.”
“Did you talk about anything that you could write and kind of give him a hint you’ve been thinking about him, without sounding too stalkerish?”
“We talked about music. He recommended a few bands to look up.”
“Great! Have you?”
“No! I haven’t had time!” I held out the phone exasperated.
“Quick, search for them. Find some tracks and listen. You only have a few more minutes before it becomes neglect, and he’ll lose attention.”
“Can’t I lie and say I listened to them and pick out one to say I liked?”
Marie shook her head. “No, dishonesty is never a good way to start a relationship.”
My thumbs flew around the phone. I found one. I listened to a few of the tracks. Not bad. The next one. Ugh! The third was actually pretty catchy.
“You like that one?” Marie shot me a quizzical look.
“Yeah.” I had always been self-conscious about my music.
“Good. I was hoping you actually liked some of the same music. I have this theory that girls and guys who like the same music are more likely to end up together. Like they’re in the same emotional groove.”
“Okay, so this one is Mudflinger.”
“So you like the Mudflinger song. Write something like, Gable! I’m glad you wrote so I could tell you I listened to the Mudflinger track, and I love it. Thanks for the recommendation. Anything else I should be listening to?”
My little thumbs flurried around the keyboard, typing exactly what she was saying.
Okay. I breathed. “Should I send it?”
“Send it.”
I squinted my eyes shut and pressed send. Then exhaled.
Then we waited.
The analog clock on the wall ticked off each minute. It echoed in the silence. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath.
I stared at my phone, willing it to ping. While I waited, I decided to put a special ringer on his number so when it came back I’d know.
Minutes ticked by as I sat and listened to different ring tones, trying to think of which one reminded me of him. Marie helped me, shaking her head or shrugging. We finally settled on something that sounded like an electric guitar. Just as I selected the ring tone, it went off.
I looked up at Marie, who could tell from my expression that, yes it was indeed Gable. What took him so long?
I opened the text.
Wow!
Over twenty bands of music. At the end he wrote:
Let me know which is your favorite.
Ugh! That was going to take forever.
“What did he say?”
“He sent me like twenty bands to listen to and said to let him know what I think.”
“Twenty, eh?” Marie lowered her brows. “He’s more obsessed than I thought.”
“With me?”
“With music.”
“Oh.”
“Okay, write back and say…”
“Holy over-the-top?”
“No, this: Wow! This list is awesome, I can’t wait to get through it.”
That was not a lie. I was kind of anxious to see what he picked for me. He had an amazing ability to read people. I wonder what this list would…
Ping! Another text from Gable.
Sorry I know that’s a lot, but I really want to know your opinions about each of them.
“Okay,” I wrote back this time without agonizing over it. I just had to write the truth.
“But it’s going to take me a while.”
No prob. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.
I smiled. “I assume this doesn’t have to be responded to in the first two minutes. Do I need to reply at all?”
“No, in fact, he’s looking forward to your response. Perfect! Let him wait for it. You can have a long stretched-out conversation about each band. Man, he’s good.”
This would be fun. But first things first. A little warm glow started in my chest. It rose to my lips and blossomed into a smile. “Thank you.”
“I’ll send you my consulting fee.” A timid smile rose to her lips, but the bleary eyes were still there.
I sat down on the couch. Marie made room by sitting upright. I elbowed her. “Hey, I saw you were crying when I came in. Wanna talk about it?”
“I have a makeup lab during my Heartbreakers special Thursday night open chat. Different than the last one. This is one where people write in advice specifically about their breakups.”
“I might be able to help you.” With the rush of a new love interest, I guess I was feeling generous.
“Really?” Hope shone in her eyes.
“Yes. You have done so much for me. This is the least I can do—and maybe pay off that consulting bill.”
“Ha, ha! You want to pretend to be me and go to lab?”
“As much as I’d love to study Nat Geo, I don’t think that will help. Maybe I can be a substitute relationship savant. It’s the least I can do.” I was feeling slightly more confident after the last bout where I basically read people’s chats and validated their concerns.
For the first time, her eyes brightened to their usual sparkle. “Could you?”
Then the implications hit me. I’d be giving advice to people who have relationship problems. That was like the pot helping the kettle put out the fire underneath them. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The one and only relationship I had been in ended badly.
Marie started getting excited. “You could totally do it. You know enough about relationships.”
“Uh.” I was already regretting my hasty volunteering to help.
“You’ll do fine. Because of privacy issues, again, you just won’t be able to tell anyone about it. I signed a contract saying that I was the only one doing the blog, and violation of that would mean termination.”
“Okay, people might get suspicious when my advice fails.”
“You give yourself too little credit.” She was almost back to her chipper self.
“Hrm.”
Gable’s list would have to wait. My best roomie was in need. I went into my room plopped down on my bed, and grabbed the book and started to read, hoping to find some last moments of inspiration.
Returning to the living room, I flipped through a few pages, finding the ones that might pertain to relationships. “The more I get to know people, the more I think that everyone needs the Book.”
“Amen. Doesn’t anyone learn social skills anymore?” Marie shrugged. “Promise me you won’t forget.”
“I won’t forget. And promise me you’ll talk to Nat-Geo guy—what’s his name?”
“Brett.”
“—Brett, at your lab Thursday night.”
“I will, I promise.
“I want to hear all about it.”
I read a few pages, but my mind kept wandering to how dreamy Gable was, how his dark eyes actually shone with interest—interest in me.
* * *
Thursday after class,I got a text from Gable.
Live music on the mall across from the library. Tonight 6pm-8pm. Wanna come?
A date!
I quickly typed, yes, but my thumb hovered over the send button. A gross realization landed on me like a ton of math homework. I had promised Marie I would do her liveblog. But that wasn’t until seven. I could leave after one hour, right? If I turn him down, he’ll think I don’t like him. I have to say yes.
Still I didn’t send. A whole minute ticked by while I debated, torn between my goal and my friend.
Then I hit send. I could just tell him I need to leave early.
At six that night, Gable crossed the brick-paved entrance to the library, looking smoking hot, in a slouchy, skater-boy way. He still had his cross-body bag and his dimples. A beanie covered his hair.
“Ready?”
Music pulsated from the small stage erected on the green. We joined a group of kids dancing. The band wasn’t too bad, for a local college band. I’d heard worse. I kept my eye on the time. After standing in front of the stage for a few minutes, Gable placed his arms around my shoulder and drew me near. My heart fluttered. His gorgeous eyes checked to see if I was okay with this violation of personal space. Of course I welcomed it.
He drew me closer. We danced, bodies touching, not a millimeter of space between us. I reveled in his touch, the warmth of his body. His whole person welcoming me. At six forty, I told him I had to leave.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“Thanks.”
He stopped in a quiet part of campus, near a bench, out of sight from even the well-lit mall. “I had a good time tonight.”
“I did too. Thanks for asking me to come.”
He stepped closer, narrowing the gap between us. He smiled; his dimples were so charming.
“I’d like to hang out again sometime.”
“Really?” According to the Book, that was a really bad question, but my heart was beating so hard it was cutting off the blood supply to my brain, and all I could think about were his lips. His smell was heavenly, intoxicating, like spring mixed with musk.
He lifted his fingers to my hair, whisking a few strands away from my neck. “Yes, I do.”
Goosebumps prickled my skin as he drew me even closer with a firm hand to my back. He bent slightly, his whole body warm against mine. I closed my eyes. My mind kept screaming at me: He’s going to kiss me, he’s going to kiss me!
His lips brushed mine, then parted slightly over my lips before finally landing. Without any objection, he deepened his kiss. My breath entwined with his. Kissing him was nothing like kissing Beau. Beau was hurried and rushed. Gable graced my lips. Gable was doing me a favor, not the other way around.
He paused, drawing me to the bench in the shadows. He leaned against the wall, letting me snuggle up near him, his hands caressing my bare arms. Even wrapped with his body warm all around me, I wanted more. He kissed my jaw line, my nose, then kissed, in long drawn-out stints. The more we kissed, the more I wanted. This was what it felt like to be wanted, to be pretty, to be desired. He wasn’t repulsed by me, he didn’t know me as Gabby the Goat Girl. He just knew me as Gabby, the cool chick in his speech class. Someone desirable.
As we kissed, trust unfolded between us. All of our secrets were open for inspection. I had to ask one question, “Why do you keep failing speech class?”
“I’m glad I did because I met you.”
“So do you just hate public speaking?”
He paused from kissing and glanced down. “I’m just painfully shy.”
“What? You don’t seem like it.”
“I hate speaking in front of people.” Here he flashed me a full dimpled smile. “But you make me bolder. There’s something about you.” He slid away a strand of fallen hair from my face. His pupils were large in the dark. I kissed his chin, craving this kind of closeness. We kissed again. Our hands found new places to touch. Time passed without notice as we clung to the shadows and ignored anyone passing by. Every yearning of my heart filled. And yet…
Somewhere during the make-out session, Lincoln flashed into my mind. His smile, his gaze sparkling at mine—him catching me as I fell out of the car after picking up trash at Mt. Lemmon, his touch, his glance.
“What’s wrong?” Gable asked, pausing his kissing.
“So are we like dating?” My rhythm had slowed, or he had detected my distraction through my breath.
He chuckled low. “Let’s just keep it as hanging-out friends. No commitment necessary.”
Disappointment crashed all around me. I thought that with the kiss, the date, he’d want more.
“You okay with that?” With a finger, he lifted my chin.
My face burned away the hope of being his girlfriend. “I, uh, oh, my gosh, how long have we been here? What time is it?”
Still holding me, he fished out his phone from his pocket. “It’s nine o’clock.”
Two hours? We’d been making out for two hours?
Marie! Her blog!
“I’ve got to go.” I stood, shaking my rush of hormones from me.
Gable stood, slowly. His hand slid along my arm, halting me by holding my hand. “What? Why?”
“I was supposed to do this thing for my roommate. I’m so sorry.” I had already started running. Gable was still dazed, didn’t attempt to follow me.
“Text me,” he called.
I flashed him a huge thumbs-up.
As I ran into our apartment complex parking lot, I saw Marie’s car. All the oxytocin evaporated into a dark cloud over my head. I needed a good apology.
I opened the door. The light under her door was still on. I headed straight into my room, dropped my stuff. Kat went into their room. There were some words I couldn’t make out because of the wall, but I could hear talking. Lisa was already asleep in my room. I sighed and walked out.
Marie was in the living room, arms crossed and a frown on her face.
“I am so sorry, Marie,” I started, figuring it was better just to get it out. Her expression didn’t soften. “I lost track of time, and I forgot.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. Marie cried a lot—when she was happy, when she was sad, when she was angry. At least this was the first time I’d seen her angry.
“How could you? I asked you to do one simple thing. No, you volunteered, and I depended on you.”
Her words cut me deep. I was a terrible friend. And that Marie was hurt wounded me. But couldn’t she just forgive me already? I said I was sorry.
“What were you doing?”
“I was with Gable.” It sounded so weak in my living room, facing her. It sounded so much better in my mind.
“Gable?”
“We were kissing.” I had to admit that I thought she’d actually be happy for me. Her features changed.
“You stood me up for a NCMO?” Her voice turned high pitched.
“What’s a NCMO?”
“A Non-Committal Make Out.”
I wanted her to be happy about my success from the Book. I wanted to sit on the couch and rehash every detail of the date, every nuance, every phrase, every glance and touch. Instead, I was hot faced, staring at the daggers of accusation coming from her eyes.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I said meekly. My heart beat with shame. I felt hot all over.
“Make it up to me?” That was the closest thing I’d seen to a yell. “Do you know what not being there did?”
I might have vaguely shaken my head.
Marie continued, pointing to her laptop. “I lost half my readership. Half!”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t think one missed session would have such an impact.
“In a world where your numbers are everything, I just checked my stats, and they are way down, Gabby!” Her anger turned to disappointment, regret, sorrow. “I worked so hard to get my numbers and to keep them.”
A pain as if she’d struck me in the gut started in my stomach. I felt sick. Marie obsessed over her numbers. It was what kept her blogging.
“Years. I’ve lost years of work.”
For some reason, this irked me. “You know, you should be happy I found some guy who wants to kiss me. This is what I have been working for. You should support me because this, this is what I have been searching for, and all you care about is your dumb readership. That’s what roommates are for. To be happy for you when you have a triumph.”
“You promised me you’d be there for me. And you failed.”
“I know,” I said dumbly. I wished she wasn’t mad at me. I wished my first college kiss would’ve been a happier occasion. I wished I would have just told Gable I couldn’t go, that I had a commitment to keep. Where would he and I be in our relationship if I hadn’t gone with him? “I’ll make it up to you.”
Marie shrugged and tossed up her hands and went into her room. “I don’t know if you can.”
Shame consumed me. I vowed never to let her down again.
* * *
I wasn’tsure if Marie was going to wake me up in the morning for Pilates or not. I was surprised when she came in as usual to coax me out of bed. But her stony silence still prevailed on our way to campus and during class.
“I am sorry.” I wiped sweat from my face after class.
Marie’s eyes blazed. “What kind of a guy would keep you from your best friend? A good guy friend would make sure you can keep your commitments.”
I was still fuming when we turned the corner and nearly smacked into Brett again.
He gave a short laugh with his eyes squinting accusingly. “Funny. I keep seeing you both here.”
He must’ve realized for the first time we were sort of stalking him. An amused light emblazoned his eyes.
“We have class right before this,” Marie said, shifting and scratching her neck.
I’d never seen her this uncomfortable.
“Well, at least I didn’t knock you down this time,” he said.
I laughed a good hearty laugh.
He studied Marie with his ice-blue eyes, running a hand through his dark hair. “I know you from somewhere.”
So she didn’t talk to him Thursday night. I held my breath, letting Marie take control of the conversation. This was her mark. She kind of stared at him with a pained look on her face.
I couldn’t very well say that I knew they were in the same Nat Geo class. That would sound too obvious. But I had to say something. The white noise was becoming awkward. “We both are in the service club.”
“That’s where I’ve seen you before.”
This should’ve been where Marie jumped in and said Nat Geo, but she was rolling the hem of her yoga shirt with her forefinger and thumb.
“We’re actually working on our fundraiser if you haven’t already got a group. We’d love for you to join ours. We’ve only had one meeting,” I proffered hoping Marie would take the bone I was throwing her—a nice big meaty one. One big enough to allow her to forgive my earlier indiscretion.
He looked away. “I haven’t been too active in the group. Some other things came up, but I’d love to help anyway I can.”
“Our group is organizing a winter ball and auction.” I kept talking but gave Marie sideways glances through this weird conversation. “We’d love to have your help. We are breaking into smaller groups and talking to businesses about donating goods and services.”
“That sounds fun,” he said, looking enthusiastic and grinning. He glanced at Marie who managed a shy smile.
I had to keep going. “I’ll text you when our meetings will be.”
“Okay.” He gave us his number, and I put it in my phone.
“Great,” I said still mentally stabbing Marie to speak.
He bobbed his head. Then pointed to his class. “I’d better go.”
“I’ll let you know when the next meeting is.” I sounded like a playlist on repeat.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Are you going to the Fall Fling?” I asked, trying to prolong the conversation long enough for Marie to join.
“When is it?” He squinted his eyes.
“This weekend. You’re welcome to hang out with our group.”
He shot a glance toward Marie. “Text me the details.”
My smile faded as soon as he was behind the steel door. “Marie!”
“I know.” She cowered a little into her cute workout shirt.
I slapped her shoulder. “At least we got his number, and we can talk to him about coming to our meetings. And he’s going to meet up with us at the Fall Fling.”
“Thank you.” The sound of relief in her voice gave me hope.
“So am I forgiven for last night?” I elbowed her.
“Almost maybe.” She lifted her chin.
“Come on.” I waved my phone above my head. “Brett’s number has to be worth at least five hundred readers.”
Marie cracked a smile. “All right, I’ll allow you to text him details of the Fall Fling.”
For some reason I dreaded going to the carnival. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but I didn’t want to see Lincoln and McKenna. And for that reason, I texted Gable to see if he wanted to come with us. So our group would be Lisa and Larry, Kat and one of her friends, Marie and possibly Brett. I should be excited to go, but dread grew in my stomach.