Kiss & Sell (17 page)

I’d only gotten a few steps before I heard Ryder clear his throat.

“Hey, Arielle?”

I swung around to face him. He looked so cute, standing there, hands in his pockets, hair hanging messily over his forehead. It took everything in me to keep myself from running back to him and jumping into his arms and acting out that famous scene in
The Notebook
.

“Yeah?”

“So, I was thinking, maybe we could exchange numbers or something?” He said. I couldn’t be sure, but he almost looked…nervous. “I mean, so we could keep in touch. Hear how things are going with the eBay thing and everything.”

Had I entered the “Twilight Zone” or had Ryder just asked for my phone number?

I must’ve looked as startled as I felt, because he added, “If that’s cool.”

“Yeah. Sure. Of course,” I said, giving him my number shakily. Then, I programmed his digits into my phone and saved it under “Future Husband.”

“Awesome. So, talk to you soon?” He said, slipping his cell into his pocket and patting it protectively.

By this point, I could barely talk, so I settled for just nodding. Then, before Ryder could walk away—and before I lost my nerve—I closed the space between us and threw my arms around his waist.

Completely surprised by my sudden display of affection, Ryder tensed up, but then relaxed, before finally squeezing me back. For a second I imagined what it would be like to hug him on a daily basis and not just when we were saying goodbye after having just met.

And it was epic.

I pulled away from Ryder just as suddenly as I’d attacked him, and then walked slowly backward and in the direction of my dressing room as if in a trance. In a moment of sheer nerdiness, I tried to wave goodbye but ended up tripping over a stray cord that was taped to the floor instead. Recovering as gracefully as I could, I turned and rushed out of there. I could hear Ryder chuckling as I left.

When I was sure that he could no longer see me, I took off running down the labyrinth of a hallway, eventually collapsing against a random wall breathlessly. I closed my eyes and replayed the last ten minutes in my head, praying that I hadn’t made it all up.

Catching my breath, I took out my cell and looked through my phonebook.

Future Husband.

Nope. Definitely didn’t make it up.

BY THE TIME
I hit the school hallways on Monday morning the news of my appearances on not one, but
Two
talk shows had gone totally viral. If I’d been a disease, they would’ve had to declare an epidemic.

Girls I’d never met gushed over how cute Ryder was and begged me to spill on what he was like in real life. Of course, there were also those who were downright bitchy about the fact that it had been me, and not them, who’d gotten to spend time with the
Night Light
star. But it’s not like I could blame them. I’d have been just as jealous if I were in their position.

Surprisingly, the guys were just as bad. For some reason they felt the need to fill me in on everything that was wrong with Ryder. Ricky telman claimed he was “A total douche who wasn’t as cool as he thought he was.” Chad Ferguson smirked as he said, “Ryder’s definitely into dudes.” and ted White glared as he said, “That turd is such a chick, he might as well be wearing a tutu.”

I was getting the vibe that my classmates of the male variety were feeling just a tad bit…
Threatened
by my new friend. And the girls? Well, they were somehow under the impression that dating a superstar was
actually
an attainable prospect. Which was
so
not true.

After riding the wave of euphoria that kicked in upon leaving Ryder at the
Snooze
soundstage, I’d tried to stay busy. Subconsciously, though, I was really just waiting for Ryder to call me. Or text me. Either would’ve been fine, I swear.

It started with me just checking my phone when I woke up in the morning, hoping he’d called me after I’d already gone to bed. Then, it escalated. In the past, I’d left my cell in my room when I was at home, only checking for messages if I
needed to call someone. But suddenly I was carrying my phone with me everywhere: when I was in the kitchen making breakfast; as I went out to retrieve the mail; and even into the bathroom with me when I went to take a shower.

In other words, I became a
Tad bit
obsessed. Mom finally had to take my cell away from me and hide it where I couldn’t find it. This was torture, but at the same time, I was grateful to quiet the crazy.

And now, it was Monday morning and still no word from Ryder. I was a little disappointed, but not totally surprised. I’m not sure what I’d been thinking. That this big-time actor was going to trade in his celeb friends and all the bright lights and fame, just to play the role of average Joe and hang out with me? Yeah, not so much.

Still, no one at school knew that Ryder and I weren’t talking, and I wasn’t about to tell them. For now I just tried to ignore the glares, answer people’s questions as honestly as I could (“Yes, Ryder’s as nice in person as he seems on the show” and “No, he wasn’t wearing lifts in his shoes to make him taller”) and enjoy the positive attention I was getting from my brush with fame.

Unfortunately, this did nothing to impress Kristi, who happily continued to rain on my popularity parade. And in KristI’s world, when it rained, it poured.

“Saw you on
Snooze
this weekend,” she said, all perky and peppy.

The tan and toned girl squeezed herself down next to me, nudging out Phin, who just rolled his eyes before moving to the other side of the table. Then Kristi smiled at me as if we were buddies. Like she
hadn’t
been torturing me nonstop since third grade. People passed by, glancing over at us as they attempted to figure out what was going on. It probably even looked like we were having a friendly conversation. But I was close enough to see the evil in KristI’s eyes.

Well, okay, so maybe the purple contacts she was wearing weren’t helping. But still. She was pure evil.

“What do you want, Kristi?” McCartney asked, not falling for her nice act either.

“Now, now, now, McCartney. What’s with all the
anger
? Haven’t you heard that frowning causes major wrinkles and premature aging?” Kristi tisked.

“And haven’t you heard that having a stick up your butt all the time can cause constipation? I bet
That
causes wrinkles, too,” McCartney fired back. “What do you think, Arielle?”

“Yeah, I read that somewhere, too. I’d watch out for that if I were you, Kris, I think I already see a few forming,” I added, seriously.

Kristi looked from McCartney to me, and then frowned as if she were trying to decide whether to keep up her act or not. It didn’t take long before she chose, and we both watched as she went from sweet to satan right before our eyes. It was like watching the wolf change out of its sheep’s clothing. Which is really gross if you think about it, because that wolf is actually wrapped up in a sheep’s carcass.

“Cut the crap, losers,” Kristi spat under her breath. Then she turned back to me. “Couldn’t you have picked a more suitable outfit to meet a totally brilliant guy like Ryder in? now he’s going to think that everyone from our school dresses like they can’t afford a closet in a trailer park. Really, Arielle, can’t you think of anyone other than yourself for like, two seconds, and instead focus on how your actions affect the rest of us?”

Had Kristi gone mental? Or was she just completely devoid of normal human emotions and actions? Like a robot. That would at least explain why she thought it was acceptable to talk to people the way she did. I glanced around the table and saw that, like me, everyone’s jaws were practically grazing the table.

And before I knew what I was doing, I stood up from the table slowly until I was towering over her. I mimicked KristI’s earlier smile, as we locked eyes.

“Huh. That’s funny. Ryder didn’t seem to mind my outfit when he was asking me for my phone number after the show.” as I finished my sentence, there was an audible gasp from nearly everyone around the table. I even caught a look of surprise on KristI’s face, but it was gone just as quickly. “But I’ll be sure to ask him about it the next time we talk.” then, I pulled out my cell and opened it up like I’d just gotten a text. “Whoops, there goes my phone. We’re done here, right?”

Not bothering to wait for an answer, I slung my bag over my shoulder and turned my back on my frenemy, doing my best to confidently walk away. Rustling started up behind me, and knew without looking, that McCartney and Phin would be catching up with me any second.

I could always count on them to have my back.

Once we’d successful left the caf behind us, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. Spotting an opening, we slipped into an empty classroom. Collapsing into the nearest desk, I put my warm face down onto the top of the cool surface, trying to calm my nerves.

“I’ve never heard anyone talk to Kristi like that,” Phin said, looking surprised. “I think I saw the actual moment she shit herself.”

“Wait. Did Ryder
really
ask for your number?” McCartney cut in.

I nodded. “Sorry I didn’t tell you before,” I said, feeling terrible that McCartney had found out the same time as everyone else. “I just sort of wanted to keep it to myself for a while. In case he never called. Which he hasn’t, by the way.”

McCartney stared at me, her face curved downward in an exaggerated frown, and I waited nervously to see how she’d react. I couldn’t handle it if my friends were mad at me, too. Especially after probably having just started a war with the wickedest witch of the west—west of ronald Henry, I mean. And I’m not exaggerating. Kristi made Blair Waldorf look like Barney.

Of course, McCartney could be just as lethal, so staying on her good side was paramount.

Luckily, she broke her silence by sighing loudly. “You’re lucky I’m such an awesome friend, Arielle sawyer,” she scolded lightly. McCartney was officially letting me off the hook. For now. “So, did he ask you for your number or did you go all angelina Jolie and put your sexy mojo out there to reel him in yourself?”

I smiled at her, grateful to finally have someone to talk to about Ryder. After surviving what felt like the longest weekend of my life, I’d come to the conclusion that I wasn’t meant to be a secret keeper. I liked to talk about things to other people too much. How were you supposed to get different perspectives on a situation if you were only listening to your own brain? Yep, secrets are bad.

We sat down on top of the nearby desks, ignoring the fact that we weren’t supposed to be doing so. But when you had to discuss the possibility of starting a secret affair with a big-time celebrity, there were obviously more important things to think about other than where to park your tush.

I promptly began to spill. I told them everything that had happened from the time the cameras stopped rolling, all the way until I reappeared in the dressing room. I could see McCartney’s eyes getting wider as I talked. Phin just kept shaking his head. Both wore the funniest expressions on their faces, though I couldn’t exactly tell what they were thinking.

“And he still hasn’t called,” I said, finishing up with a pout. “I don’t know why I thought he was actually interested. I mean, this is
my
life after all. And in
my
life story, famous hot guys don’t pursue geeky girls like me.”

“Oh,
shut up
!” McCartney exploded, rolling her eyes. “Look what you’ve experienced so far. Maybe it’s not a Blockbuster hit, but face it, A, it’s at least a movie-of-the-week situation that you’ve got going on.”

“Yeah. At least you’re the one
living
all of it. McCartney and I have to just sit back and live vicariously through
you
. So, now who’s the lame one?” Phin added.

“
You
sort of are for wearing that shirt,” McCartney muttered.

“Oh, har, har, McCart,” Phin said loudly as he glared at her. “You’d be the first person killed off in
my
movie.”

“Oh, please, like yours would even be a movie,” she snorted. “More like a 15 second commercial.”

I looked back and forth between my besties as they fought like brother and sister. I debated letting them keep at it, but if they were verbally sparring it meant that they weren’t actively trying to solve my boy problem. And I was desperately in need of their advice.

“Guys? I hate to break up your very amusing WWE smack down, but I really need you to tell me what to do here,” I pleaded.

They stopped mid-fight and both turned to face me. The classroom we were in grew silent and I waited quietly as they brainstormed. I hoped their lack of response was due to the fact that they had so many ideas running through their heads that they didn’t know where to start.

“He gave you his number, right? So why don’t you just call him?” McCartney said finally.

That was her answer? Call the super hot and famous superstar? And say what, exactly? Why haven’t you called? Did you come to your senses and realize that you don’t feel like slumming it right now? Why don’t you like me? Yeah right. Talk about your stalkerific moves.