The Unofficial Zack Warren Fan Club (7 page)

“Do you have any problems, objections?” Mom leaned against the counter.

“We have one small problem.” I said. It was better to be truthful, considering I have a strict no lying policy when it came to my mom. I just couldn’t.

“Really, only one?” she looked skeptical, knowing I didn’t want to come right out with the reason. “I thought you would have a million. New house, town, and family…even though you are both away at school.”

Glenn nodded. “Before I asked your mom to marry me, I had my eye on a condo. This worked out better then we imagined. We just hope uprooting you two won’t lead to your resenting us or hating it here.”

Zack and I shared a look. We had an agreement, and it was to let our parents be happy.

“We don’t hate it and we’re not mad at you.” I said, smiling because this wasn’t super permanent. After college, I’d get a job and move out. No big deal.

“We’d never resent you guys for wanting to be happy.” Zack took a long drink of his iced tea. I felt myself admiring how well he covered his distaste for our situation.

After dinner we went upstairs pretending to talk about a funny movie. Knowing that our parents were watching, waiting for anything to give away our displeasure.

I had confidence in our acting abilities. In no time mom and Glenn would give up thinking we were anything but fine with our new home and each other.

Once we were out of sight we dropped the act and went to our rooms.

I sat on the floor going through boxes and unpacking my clothes, not realizing how much stuff I’d accumulated over the years. I had a big black garbage bag filled with junk—old makeup, holey socks, and obsolete spiral notebooks.

It felt liberating to clean my closet out, again.

I did some reorganizing when I packed, but mostly I dumped the contents into boxes. I figured it would be a lot easier to decide exactly what I wanted to get rid of once I became familiar with my new room. Really, I enjoyed the extra space and found my new room to be a major improvement over the last…if only the walls were a little thicker.

The sounds of a popular band pulsed through the wall separating our rooms. Zack was setting up his computer. Before he turned on the music I’d heard the system booting up.

It was actually kind of lonely knowing Zack, who was a pretty okay person, though I swear on my dog that I wouldn’t admit it, was shut in his room. We could be hanging out, miserable in our new living arrangements together. After all, we had summers, winter breaks, and all the other major holidays here.

Normally I’d go to my mom and we’d invest in a tub of mint ice cream. Share some feelings. Regret eating so much crap. It really worked in the past.

“It’s been two days.” It was good to hear her voice, and it made me want to cry a little. I hadn’t shed a tear yet. I’d been shocked, but now that the reality has fully sunk in, I wanted to be back in my old room, or at least at the dorms. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had a car. But my mom didn’t make a lot being an artist, and I wasn’t a big fan of driving to begin with. So I mostly walked everywhere. In high school I lived three blocks from the school. Now in college, everything I needed was on campus. I borrowed Lana’s car if I really needed to get anything.

“No, no physical violence.” I finished hanging up my clothes and started to make my bed. No longer feeling the need to cry, but still sad. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

She lowered her voice, layering on a thickly, scandalous tone. “Just don’t get in the bed of his truck unless you mean business. I hear he keeps an air mattress in it.”

“Lana, it isn’t nice to spread rumors.”

“Every girl knows it’s true.”

“Do you have proof?” Lana was a little gullible when it came to the rumor mill, and usually went with what the rest of the crowd believed. Her assumptions aside, she was pretty cool. We shared a love of bargain shopping and late night trips to the 7-11 for slurpees.

“No.” She snipped. “Why are you acting so defensive?”

I dropped back onto my bed to stare at the ceiling, which, now that I looked, was also orange. At least I wasn’t living in the great outdoors. I groaned. “I don’t know. Maybe the stories aren’t true. Wouldn’t you feel guilty assuming something so huge about him?”

“Um, no.”

“Why?” I was definitely feeling defensive now.

“He’s Zack Warren, hottest guy on the baseball team. He has one thing on his mind. Sex. And I wouldn’t blame you if you took him up on a round or two.” She giggled, “I can’t wait to tell the girls…so what have you found out about him so far?”

The sadness vanished.

Normally I cared less about her opinions and ignored them. Lana had a big mouth, and though I might be seen as a pushover for hanging out with her, what she said I took in one ear and pushed right out the other.

For the first time that I can remember, her comments and assumptions were getting to me, all because of a guy I theoretically hated.

“I’m not sharing anything with the fan club.” I stated, feeling like I was warding off press. But maybe I was. Her major is journalism.

She clicked her tongue. “You took an oath.”

“I made that up in the third grade, and the maker can unmake it.” I was feeling all of eight now, making and unmaking oaths. Was she ever going to grow up? The other girls saw her as more mature because she was having sex. She even dared to flaunt her devirginized status, not keeping what she and Kyle were doing to herself.

Apparently it was pretty hot, and though curious, I never listened to her. I’d find out what it was about in my own time, with the right guy.

Besides, the Internet was a wealth of information. I satisfied my curiosity, educationally speaking, and scared the crap out of myself by getting bold with Google. I swear, I thought I’d never recover after some of the stuff I saw. Yikes. And mom did her part, having the birds and bees talk. Insert tab A into slot B. Yes, tabs and slots. Mom was shy about using the words penis and vagina around me, but I got the picture and was thoroughly embarrassed. Lana didn’t posses the fear or prude nature I sometimes did, so she kept me up to date, and started experimenting early, like, in the ninth grade.

I hated to think that our friendship would be jeopardized over a boy I didn’t like, a lot. If I ended a friendship over a guy, he’d have to be pretty freaking fantastic.

“We’re dealing with a person, Lana, one I have to live with. Its not like Zack can’t find out what you’re doing.” I had a feeling it wasn’t if he found out, it was when. And when he did, I was screwed.

“No.” I shouted. Then lowered my voice so Zack wouldn’t get curious and knock on my door. “Lana, I’ll handle this problem myself…if there ever is a problem. You just do me a favor and make sure no one finds out about the club. Although I’d prefer if you just ended it.”

“No, really Lana, don’t. I’m going to bed. Thanks for the invite though, and I’ll talk to you soon.” I hung up, wanting to chuck the phone out my window, and maybe my dinner along with it.

I hate Zack Warren.

Period.

There is no love here. That was in the past, long time ago, and it would stay there. There was no need to get over him, because I had never been under him—oh, lord.

But why did I dislike him in the first place?

When did my hatred for him start?

It wasn’t just the bike streamers, and it wasn’t the fact that he pulled a fire alarm in front of me, or all those pranks. I was frustrated with him…yes, very frustrated.

Now I’m getting somewhere.

I’ve been frustrated since that day he pulled the fire alarm.

I’d wanted something from him that day when I ran across him. A promise he would stop acting out, because I knew he was better than that. Acknowledgement, for him to show me he knew of my existence, in a nice way. That I was more than just some silly girl to annoy one minute and ignore the next.

And then frustration morphed into anger. Hating him every time he didn’t look at me when I passed him in the hallway. Hating it when he watched me, and looked away the second I noticed. Hating myself for not having the courage to walk up to him and just say hi.

Lana said I should try flirting with him.

I didn’t have the flirt gene. In fact, I suck at flirting. So how was I supposed to send out that little signal like the other girls, let him know that I was interested?

I tried flipping my hair and batting my eyes once and I ran into a pole.

Flirting wasn’t necessary though, and this I realized a couple years ago.

When I locked eyes with Zack, even if it was for just a second, I felt a connection…like this boy could really see me. He knew I could see him. My breaths were short, my heart hammering; sometimes I forgot what I was doing. The world went silent around me and I couldn’t see anything but him.

He felt it too. I saw it reflected in his eyes, but he ignored it.

So I guess I started the club for fun in the beginning, as a little girl playing a game. Then I distanced myself because of the hurt, knowing there could be something between us, and for whatever reason, Zack wanted nothing to do with me. So hurt turned to hate too. And if I was protecting myself, protecting him, that was okay.

Because Lana was right about one thing.

It is easier to hate than to love.

Chapter 8

Once the last of my things were put in their rightful places my room didn’t look so bad. Except my bedding didn’t match. It was fluffy and white, with blue swirls and flowers. The orange walls had to go if I’d be spending weekends and holidays here. My mom brought a few gallons of white paint with her; first thing in the morning I’d attack the walls with a roller.

I decided to take a nice hot shower and check out my bathroom. The bedrooms each had their own bathroom, something I was grateful for. Privacy when living with a guy is the key to my happiness. I stripped down to my bra and underwear, snagging a towel out of the stash in my closet.

I walked right in the bathroom, not bothering to look at where I was going, and slammed into something warm and hard. My hands went up to steady myself, landing on a very bare chest. Slowly I lifted my head and locked eyes with Zack.

A shirtless Zack.

Who was a boxer guy.

“What are you doing in my bathroom?” He seemed confused, looking into my room. His hair was wet, and he had a towel slung over his shoulder.

I snapped out of my shock, pushing away from him a little too reluctantly. This was my first time anywhere near a guy in blue boxers. Well, boxers of any kind.

Wowzers.

“This is my…” I peered around him to see another door that lead into the camouflaged hell I’d escaped form earlier. “Our bedrooms are connected by a bathroom?”

“Shit.” He sat on the side of a claw foot tub. I couldn’t wait to take a bath in that thing. It was big enough for a million rubber duckies.