Picture Perfect (9 page)

“Hey! Hey! You don’t drown Homer!” he yelled, diving in after the book.

“Y
’all dance really well,” Blake said.

Did he mean me? I wondered. Or did he mean everyone? This “y’all” thing was confusing.

“Oh, well…thanks.” I could tell him how many years of lessons I’d taken, how I’d studied ballet but also modern, interpretive, hip-hop, and jazz dance. But the place was so loud, it was impossible to hear or say much. Besides, I couldn’t help thinking that anything I said might sound like I was bragging, and that would definitely be an annoying quality. “Thanks,” I repeated.

“Thanks for what?” he asked, having already forgotten the subject.

“Oh, um. The dance. The club. You know, what’s funny is that, like, if everyone had access to a place like this, then people would probably dance better.” I wished I hadn’t said that. I was starting to sound like Miss Teen South Carolina.

“What?” Blake asked.

I heaved a sigh of relief that he hadn’t heard me. “Nothing,” I said. “Not important.”

We’d gotten to the club around nine o’clock. We’d all walked there together, traveling in a pack. Me, Blake, Heather, Trevor, and Adam. Spencer refused to show up before ten, because he said it wasn’t cool. As if he’d know.

The minute we walked through the door and got our hands stamped, Adam bumped into a guy he knew from going to a baseball training camp during spring break in Florida. They started talking baseball, and the rest of us moved on to hanging out by the dance floor, then actually dancing to a couple of songs.

When the band went on break, Blake and Trevor took off with a mission to talk to the band about doing a show near their college in the fall.
Before Heather and I could even talk about how things were going, she grabbed my arm.

“Hey, look who’s here!” she cried.

I scanned the club, expecting to see a celebrity from the tone of her voice. “Who?”

“Dean and Chase,” she said. “The lighthouse boys.”

“Formerly known as orange shirt and blue shirt.” I checked them out as they stood at the top of the steps, near the entrance. “They’re taller than I remembered. And cuter!” I said.

“No doubt,” Heather agreed. “I wish I knew which one was which, but oh well, I’ll find out. It’s not like they know our names, either. I’ve got to run. See you—”

“What? You can’t leave me!” I protested. “They live here, which means they probably know tons of people—”

“Maybe, but I invited them to meet
me
. I can’t let them stand over there looking clueless by themselves,” Heather said. “That wouldn’t be nice.”

“They don’t look clueless,” I said. “
I
look clueless.”

Heather swatted my shoulder. “You do not. Just get to know Blake. Get him to talk about himself. That’s all you have to do.” She squeezed my arm before she walked off. “Wish me luck!”

“Wish
you
luck? What about me?” I called after her, but the music drowned out my voice. “Come back! Heather. Heath—Heather—” I was panting when Blake returned from talking to the band.

“Everything okay?” Blake asked.

“Sure…everything’s…cool,” I said, as slowly as possible, stalling for time, wishing I knew how I was supposed to go about this. I didn’t know how to pick up a guy and just have a fling. I wasn’t cut out for this stuff. What made me think that just because I was in another state, I could do it now?

We might have kissed, but we had nothing to talk about.

“You, um, come to this place…like, pretty often?” I said.

“Now and then.” Blake shrugged.

We stood side by side, just sort of nodding to each other and looking around the crowd. I
was watching Heather laugh and enjoy herself with Dean and Chase. I didn’t see Adam anywhere. He’d probably left to play baseball outside or something, I decided. So much for sticking around and protecting me and Heather. I couldn’t imagine he really wanted that job in the first place. Spencer sure didn’t—he wasn’t even here yet.

“Where’s, uh, Trevor?” I asked.

“Ran into someone he knows,” Blake said. “Heather?”

“Same. Pretty much. I mean, she doesn’t know them well, but…” I found myself at a complete loss for words. I was just standing there, twirling my hair, like a complete ditz. It was like I needed a time-out to collect myself. That, or I needed to run out of the place without looking back. “You know what? I’m really thirsty—you want a pop?”

Blake looked confused. “A pop?”

“Something to drink. With fizz? That’s what we call soda in the Midwest,” I explained.

“Oh, a Coke. That’s what we call it here,” Blake said.

“Really? Right, a Coke. I’ve heard that. So, would you like a Coke? Or a Pepsi? Or a root beer?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Mountain Dew?” I offered.

He laughed. “No, it’s just called Coke.”

“What is?”

“Never mind.”

“Right.”

It took me forever just to get across the club, and then there was a long line at the bar, probably because the band was on break. I tried to edge closer and was making progress, until I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, ready to apologize for stepping on someone’s toe.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Spencer said.

“Fancy? Okay, Grandpa,” I replied, staring at his outfit of blue plaid madras shorts and a striped green shirt. It was almost cool.
Almost
. “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying home and reading the
Iliad
or something.”

“It’s the
Odyssey
. Which is kind of the way
I’d describe waiting for this bartender to notice us.”

“I know. I just want a pop—a Coke,” I corrected myself.

“Poppa Coke? Who’s that?” he joked.

I glared at him, then sidled up to the bar a little more, pushing my way between two girls who were both on their phones and didn’t even notice me. Spencer made his way past some guys walking away, beers in hand, and the two of us were suddenly only a body or two away from the actual bar. Finally, I got a chance to order.

When we both had our drinks, we pushed our way back out of the crowd. I was actually hoping to lose Spencer in the crowd, but no such luck—he stepped in front of me as I tried to get past him. “Where’s your partner in crime?” Spencer asked.

“Which one?”

“Heather.”

“Oh, she’s over there.” I gestured vaguely in case Spencer was thinking of heading over and embarrassing her.

“What happened to Adam? Wasn’t he supposed to be watching you?”

“Watching us? No. Hanging around at the same place as us in case we need him? Yeah, I guess. Something like that. Anyway, he’s here somewhere. He ran into some guy he met at a baseball camp this spring. It’s all baseball, all the time.” I took a sip of my cold pop. “What’s a ribbie?”

“RBI,” Spencer said. “Stands for Runs Batted In. Like, if you’re at bat and you get a hit and the runner on third scores. You get credited with a ribbie.”

It was like listening to someone speak Russian. It sounded nice, mysterious, and completely foreign. Maybe I had been living in a ballet bubble for too long.

“You know, if you want to talk to random guys you’re going to have to brush up on your sports,” Spencer commented.

“I don’t want to talk to random guys,” I said.

“Don’t you? Seems like that’s all you and Heather have been trying to do,” he said.

“Oh. Well,
here
, maybe. At home, not so much.”

“Really,” Spencer said.

“Really. At home I just try to talk to guys I already know.” I paused, taking another sip of my pop. “That doesn’t go so well, either.”

Spencer looked at me, and we just started laughing. I was giggling, even. It was like I’d just confessed to a crime. We were laughing the way we did when we were little kids.

Then I straightened up and headed back over to Blake, who was sitting with Trevor at a small table, a level up from the main floor.

Blake smiled up at me and I sat down in the one empty chair. “So. How often do you guys come here?” I asked.

“Here? This place?”

“Well, sure, here, or the Outer Banks, or Kill Devil Hills…”

“Hey, isn’t that guy staying with you?” Trevor pointed to Spencer, who was standing around vaguely near us, without coming over. “Tell him to come sit with us.”

“No, that’s okay,” I said. “I mean, he’s fine.
He wants to be by himself.”

“He does?” asked Blake, looking confused.

“He’s strange. He, uh, reads a lot,” I said, as if that were a crime. “Kind of an outsider, loner-type deal.”

“Really? I talked to him a couple of times. Thought he was really cool,” said Trevor. “Yo!” he called, waving to Spencer. “What’s his name again?” he asked me.

“Spencer,” I said with a sigh.

“Yo, Spencer!” Trevor called.

“Hey, what’s up?” Spencer came over and gave the two guys brief, cool handshakes, the kind guys do that work, unlike their pretend-hugs.

“Pull up a chair,” Blake offered.

“No, it’s all right, he was just leaving. Weren’t you?” I said.

“Thanks.” Spencer ignored me and pulled a chair over from a nearby table. “So. You guys both go to UNC, right? I think Emily said that.”

Blake nodded. “Yeah, it’s our last year. Well, unless I screw up.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked.

“Who wants to graduate? Then you have to get a job and work the rest of your life,” Blake explained.

“Good point.”

“What about you guys?” said Trevor.

“We’re only going to be freshmen next year,” Spencer said. “Technically, I could be a sophomore, so I’m calling it my freshomore year.”

Could you be any freshomore annoying?
I wanted to say.

“Where are you going?” Blake asked.

“Linden College,” I said.

“Never heard of it.”

“No, you wouldn’t—I mean, it’s a small college in Michigan.”

“I thought y’all were from Wisconsin.” Blake looked confused. “You know, cheeseheads.”

“And how do you guys know each other again?” Trevor asked.

“Our dads have been friends since college, so…”

“They set you up!” Trevor nodded. “I get it.”

“No!”
I coughed. “No, we just have these group reunions. In groups. It’s a very big
group
.”

“Emily’s the youngest in the
group
,” Spencer said, seemingly out of nowhere.

“I am not,” I said. “The twins are only four. They’re practically infants. So no, I’m not the youngest.”

Trevor, Blake, and Spencer started laughing at how defensive I was being. “Well, as long as you’re older than
four
,” Spencer said. “Then I guess it’s okay for you to be here.”

I scooted over a little closer to Blake. Then I leaned over and suggested quietly, “Maybe we should go outside.”

“Outside? Why would we go outside?”

“So we could have some privacy. You know.” I gestured toward Spencer and Trevor. “Like last night. On the balcony?”

“Yeah. Well, I can’t go anywhere. I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

“Meeting someone? Like, other friends?”

Suddenly, a tall girl with spiky red hair, wearing a short black dress and tall black boots, came up to our table and dropped herself into Blake’s lap.

“Where have you been? Oh, my God, I thought I wasn’t going to see you again!” She planted a big kiss on his lips. “I missed you so much!”

Blake grinned and kissed her back, nuzzling her neck. “I told you I’d be here tonight, didn’t I? Where have you been? I thought y’all were going to be here at nine.”

Y’all.
Why had I ever thought that was a cute expression? It was annoying, especially when it meant “not you, Emily—
her
.”

“Y
ou know, I was doing fine until
you
came along,” I muttered to Spencer as the band took the stage again. Blake and Mystery Girl had run off to the dance floor together, while I’d moved to a darker, less conspicuous area, so I could feel like an idiot in private. Spencer had followed me, no doubt so I could hear him gloat over the loud music.

“I think you mean until she came along,” Spencer said. “Because I’m not the one who jumped into his lap.”

I sighed and leaned against the railing. I thought that when Blake and I had kissed it actually meant something. Not a lot, maybe, but something. Apparently, I was just one of the
many girls around here he kissed. But I didn’t want to talk about it with Spencer.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and go check on Heather or something?” I asked.

He pointed to Heather, who was dancing with one of the guys from Corolla. “She seems to be doing fine.”

“What are you talking about? She’s all over him! They’re so close they could be arrested in some states,” I said. “Go break them up, why don’t you?”

“Relax. They’re just dancing.”

“You know, I think I know why you agreed to come tonight.”

“I can’t resist the pull of a bad cover band?”

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. “You can’t stand the idea of me, of us, having fun without you. Having fun, period. Being happy. You probably knew about Blake and what’s-her-name.”

“Look, I didn’t want to upset you, but…I never thought you and Blake were on the same page.”

“What are you talking about? We just met,
we still have to get to know each other, and—anyway, I’m sure she’s just an old friend, and there’s nothing wrong with friends.”

“No, unless you have, like, seven of them. And you kiss all of them.”

“What are you saying?”

“Emily, come on. Look. Didn’t you see him and that girl?”

“But he’s nice. He loaned me his sweatshirt.”

“A sweatshirt isn’t a relationship.”

I frowned at him. “Are you thinking of putting that saying on a T-shirt? Because don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Emily, but the guy seems kind of like a player. Come on, I’ll walk you home,” Spencer said.

“Why would I leave just because Blake is dancing with someone…else?” I yanked my arm away from his. The last thing I wanted was his pity. “Just leave me alone, okay?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What are you wearing, anyway? Plaid and stripes should only be worn by rock stars, like Gwen Stefani, or someone on
Project Runway
.”

“I think I’m crushed. Hold on,” he said. He waited a few seconds and checked his pulse. “Nope. Still fine.”

“Well, as much as this night is starting to suck, we’re still not leaving. We can’t just go and leave Heather here on her own.”

“I’ll tell Adam we’re going. He can be in charge of her.”

I laughed. “Do you think anyone can be in charge of Heather? Do you know Heather at all? Besides, has anyone seen Adam? I bet he’s off playing baseball somewhere, some all-night lighted playing…place.”

“Field. Or diamond. Baseball diamond,” Spencer said.

“Whatever.”

“Your dad’s really into sports. How do you not know all these basic things that any six-year-old would know?” Spencer asked, making me sound like the dumbest person on the planet, or at least in the room.

“And how do you not have better manners than a six-year-old? How do you go around just insulting people without even noticing?”

“What? I do not.”

“You constantly do,” I argued.

“Look. If this is about what happened, you know, in the Dells—”

“It isn’t.”

That was the second time he’d brought it up, but we hadn’t actually talked about it. I definitely wasn’t in the mood to now. A person can only take so much rejection in one night.

We sat silently, watching people dance. I sipped my ice, then tipped the cup back and chewed some ice. All I wanted was to get out of there, but at the same time, I wanted to hang around and see how Heather was doing, make sure she was all right—make sure
she
had a better night than I did.

Spencer was apparently watching her, too. “Hey, is that orange shirt or blue shirt with Heather?” he asked. “I thought you had dibs on blue shirt.”

I laughed, despite the fact I sort of wanted to slug him. “Shut up. I don’t have dibs on anyone,” I said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Hey. If we need to kill time, I could always
tell you the girl-next-door story,” Spencer offered.

“For real?”

“Sure.”

“Should I get a tissue?” I asked.

“For me, yeah. A box.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t get your hopes up—it’s not a very long or interesting—”

“Just tell it,” I urged. I was dying for something else to think about.

“Okay. Like I said, it’s not a very long story. There was this girl, next door. Well, three doors down. Her name was Morgan. Still is, actually. I wanted to ask her to prom,” Spencer began. “But we were kind of friends, you know, so it had to be really creative, had to blow her away. I kept plotting how to do it. I had a hundred brilliant ideas. Romantic ones. Thoughtful ones. Funny ones. In the end? Someone else asked her before I even tried
one
of my ideas.”

I started laughing. Harder and harder.

“You think that’s funny?”

“No. No! Yes! See, that kind of sort of happened to me, too.”

“Well, I’m glad I could
amuse
you. Now, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” Spencer said.

I surveyed the dance floor, checking on Heather.

Did Blake have to dance right there? In plain sight? Why didn’t he go somewhere private—say, back to Georgia?

And what was he thinking, anyway? That it was okay to have two girls interested in him at the same time? Maybe I should go over there right now and make out with him, the way she jumped on his lap when I was talking to him. It wasn’t too late. I could fight for him.

Did I want to, though? Did it matter?

“Hey. Spencer got me. Dragged me away, actually,” Heather said, glaring over at him.

“He’s good at that.”

“I told him to wait for us over there so we could talk.” She gave me a little hug. “He told me what happened. Don’t take this thing with Blake personally. He’s an idiot, that’s all. Anyway, you more than accomplished your goal. You had a summer fling!”

“That counts? We only kissed twice. At a Publix.”

“It counts.”

“Right. Then why do I feel so bad that it’s over all of a sudden?”

“Flings are like that. You can’t take them too seriously.”

That was easy for her to say. It meant a lot to me when I kissed someone—or it was supposed to.

“You know what? Maybe that wasn’t the perfect fling. Maybe you need to set your sights on someone else.”

“No thanks.”

“Yes,” Heather insisted. “Because Dean and I—we’re totally hitting it off. He’s very cool. And you know what? Maybe you could go out with his friend, Chase. I’ll set something up!” she said excitedly.

I shook my head. “No, don’t bother—it’s okay.”

“Emily, this vacation is far from over. Do you want to mope around or do you want to show Blake you can find someone else, too?”

I didn’t really care about showing up Blake—I probably wouldn’t ever see him again. “Can’t I just sit here feeling crushed for a little while?”

“Fine, but I think you’re overreacting,” Heather said.

“I’m not,” I said. “I was really into him! And he invited us here, and now he’s making out with another girl!”

Heather gave one last look across the club. “Hmm. I see your point. You want to get out of here?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” I sighed.

“Only…do you think you can wait a second while I go tell Dean good-bye?” she asked.

“Of course! Take your time,” I told her.
Only…not too much, because I really want to bolt and every second of this is killing me
, I thought as I smiled at her, trying to put my best face on a bad situation.

“Emily, get whatever you want,” Heather said when she slid into a booth at an all-night
breakfast place fifteen minutes later. “We’re treating.”

“We are?” Spencer asked.

“Duh. It’s tradition,” Heather said. “The person who has the worst night gets treated to breakfast afterward.”

“That’s not fair. You haven’t asked about
my
night,” Adam said, pouting.

“Or mine, either,” Spencer added, taking a sip of ice water.

“Fine.” Heather set down her menu and faced them. “Do tell.”

“Yeah. And don’t leave anything out, we want all the details,” I said, leaning against the wall.

Adam glanced at Spencer. “You want to go first?”

“Sure. Well, I went to this club. The band was supposed to be great, but it was mostly bad cover songs. I ran into some friends. And there was this one girl who would
not
leave me alone.”

“You don’t mean
me
,” I said.

“If the shoe fits…” Spencer said.

“Shut up! You should be so lucky. You’re the one who wouldn’t leave my side.”

“As if,” Spencer replied. “I tried to leave about a hundred times. You just wanted to stay, for some unknown reason.” He turned to Adam. “What happened to you, anyway? I didn’t see you all night.”

“First I ran into this guy from baseball camp. Then we went to hang out with some guys he knew. We went for pizza, then we hit an arcade, then we ran into more people—”

“Was it fun?” Heather asked.

“Sure. I just felt bad because I ditched you guys,” Adam said.

“We’ve been ditched much worse than that tonight,” I muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Why? What happened?” Adam looked confused.

“Never mind,” I said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay. Do you guys want to hear about Dean?” Heather asked.

“You know, I’m not sure if I should get the
pancakes or the waffles. Can we have a table vote?” asked Spencer, trying to change the subject.

When we got our food, I wasn’t all that hungry, so I started taking pictures instead. I got Spencer checking his reflection in the stainless-steel napkin dispenser, Heather trying to keep her long hair out of the maple syrup, and Adam’s hands shaking as he had his fourth cup of coffee.

For a while I was having so much fun that I almost completely forgot that I’d been blown off in a major way by the first guy I’d really, actually ever kissed.