Lauren's Beach Crush (13 page)

Charlie grinned. “Yup. But my mom'll get over it. She always does.” He noticed Lauren's quizzical expression. “She's always forcing me to read, read, read. Says I don't do enough of it.”

“But I thought you were a big reader,” said Lauren. “We always see you reading a big, thick book.”

“Yeah, that's how I got busted,” he said with a grin. “I made a cut-out inside the book that perfectly fit my MP3 player. So I was actually watching movies when it looked like I was reading. Unfortunately, she found that out this morning when she was cleaning my room.”

“So—you don't really like to read much?”

“Psssh. Hate it. Give me a good video game any time.”

The music changed from jazzy to slow. The song was an oldie, but the tune was familiar to Lauren. Maybe she'd heard her dad, or even her grandfather, playing it. The band was good; there were at least a dozen musicians, playing brass instruments, saxophones, drums, even a big double bass. A couple of them looked young—possibly even her age.

“These guys are amazing,” remarked Frank. Lauren nodded in agreement.

A sob escaped from Chrissy as the slow song played. She put a hand to her mouth and ran from the patio, toward the darkened beach.

Lauren and the boys stared after her.

“What's wrong with Chrissy?” asked Frank, watching
her walk away. “Did I say something to upset her?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.

“No, it's not you. She and her boyfriend broke up,” said Lauren. “He texted her the news . . . can you believe that? She's still pretty upset. I'm guessing that might have been their special song or something.”

Charlie pumped his fist in the air. “Yessssss!” he said.

Lauren glared at him. “You're happy that she's upset?”

“Naw, I'm happy she's available,” he said. “I might have to ask her for her number.”

So Charlie did like Chrissy. And now Lauren was sure she was over him because this news didn't make her feel sad at all. But it did annoy her! Couldn't he see that Chrissy was hurting?

“Um, bro, now might not be the right time. She looked pretty upset,” said Frank. He looked expectantly at Lauren, who continued to glare at Charlie. How could he be so insensitive? Lauren looked away from Charlie and watched helplessly as her friend made her way through the crowd.

“I'm not sure how to help her,” Lauren admitted. “Do you want to try?” she said, turning to Frank.

“Um, I guess I'll go talk to her,” Frank mumbled finally, and he headed toward Chrissy, who had almost reached the beach.

Lauren and Charlie were now alone, awkwardly standing next to each other. Lauren couldn't think of much to say. And Charlie seemed to have nothing to say. She was relieved when the Matts approached Charlie and dragged him off toward the food table. She went over to the bar area and hopped up onto a stool. She could see Frank and Chrissy standing on the beach, alone, the sun setting romantically behind them. They seemed to be talking easily to each another. Frank was gesturing dramatically with both hands as he told Chrissy some sort of story. Then Chrissy doubled over laughing.

Did Chrissy and Frank like each other now? Lauren groaned. She'd been trying for this all summer! If they ended up together, it was all her fault!

LAUREN SWIVELED AWAY FROM WHERE CHRISSY
and Frank were standing, so she wouldn't have to watch how much fun they were having together. She turned toward the band. They were playing another slow, sad sounding song. It perfectly suited her mood.

Her dad and mom passed by and she did her best not to flinch as her gaze flickered over his pink shorts.

“Having fun, honey?” asked her mom.

She managed a smile. “Yeah. The party is awesome.”

“Be home by ten, okay, sweetheart?” said her dad.

She nodded. She watched her mom and dad clasp one another and begin dancing, their bodies swaying in perfect sync to the music, their cheeks close together. Her dad whispered something in her mom's ear, and her mom giggled.

Lauren closed her eyes and shook her head. Even
old people were having a more romantic summer than she was.

“Hey.”

Lauren turned around. Chrissy was sitting on the stool next to her.

Now it was Lauren's turn to have her eyes brimming with tears. “Hey,” she said.

“What's wrong, Laur?” Chrissy put a hand on her arm and leaned toward her, genuine concern on her face. “Is it me? I know I've been really insensitive about all the Charlie stuff, and I'm sorry I blew my stack about Frank. I've just been really stressed out about Justin. I think I knew for a while something was off, and that was probably making me really cranky. I'm totally sorry.”

Lauren couldn't speak. She just shook her head.

“Look, Frank told me about what Charlie said. I swear, Lauren, I don't
like
like him. I never gave him any reason to think I liked him. He's kind of boring and stuck up, and he was so competitive at our volleyball game. No offense. I know you like him. But I swear—”

“I don't like Charlie anymore,” said Lauren flatly. “I realized that I like Frank. And Frank likes you. And who could blame him, because you are so totally amazing! And
I think you like Frank. Which isn't your fault because I've been telling you to like Frank since we got here. And now you do like him, and so now you're probably going to hate me for liking who you like.”

Chrissy's eyes widened. “No! I so don't!”

“I saw the way he was making you laugh and stuff. Just now. On the beach.”

“Yeah, I like him, sure, but I don't
like
like him.”

“You're just saying that. Why wouldn't you
like
like him? He's awesome.” Lauren had never felt more miserable.

“Lauren.” Chrissy put a hand over Lauren's and stared deeply into Lauren's eyes. “You are right that Frank is awesome. But you are wrong about Frank liking me—I guarantee it. You should talk to him. And anyway, the reason I came over to talk to you is that I wanted to point out the saxophonist in the band. After Frank left I walked back here to look for you, and then I spotted him. He had a solo in the last number. Have you ever, ever, in your whole life, seen anyone as cute and amazing as he is?”

Lauren looked. There were three saxophonists, but it was clear which one Chrissy was talking about. He was the youngest by far. Probably just a few years older than they
were. He wore a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He wasn't tall, like Charlie, but he was perfectly proportioned, his arm muscles flexing as he played. And he could play. The song they were playing at the moment was a jazzy dance number, and as the girls looked at him, the boy broke out into a solo, his fingers flying up and down the instrument, his saxophone singing out in a sultry melody.

Lauren blinked. “Ah,” was all she could say.

“And guess what? I think he smiled at me a little while ago when he wasn't playing,” said Chrissy breathlessly. “I think I might go talk to him at their next break.”

“You totally should,” said Lauren.

“You think?” Chrissy asked, her cheeks flushing in a way that made her look even prettier than usual.

“Absolutely! Go for it!” Lauren cheered. “You know . . . we could come up with a plan . . . ” Then she stopped. Chrissy looked at her and rolled her eyes.

Lauren laughed. “And the plan should be that when the song is over you just go over and talk to him and be yourself.”

As if on cue, the band members finished the song. All the people on the dance floor clapped and cheered for them. The main guy announced that they'd be taking
a short break, and then the band members began folding their music, laying their instruments across their chairs, standing, stretching. A DJ put on a contemporary song, but most people left the dance floor and headed toward the food table.

Lauren gave Chrissy a tiny shove, and Chrissy jumped down from the stool. “What should I say? I mean, what kind of icebreaker should I use? Should I tell him I play the piano, or does that sound dorky?” Chrissy asked.

Lauren grinned at her friend and gave her the same advice Chrissy had been giving her all summer. “Just go be yourself! Someone once gave me that very good advice.”

Chrissy grinned back and squeezed Lauren's hand. Then she confidently strode through the crowd toward the band area. Lauren sat, smiling. She was really happy for her.

“Lauren! Lauren! Lauren!” shrieked a pair of little-kid voices.

She looked down. Bobby and Kyle Claussen were standing in front of her. She hopped off the stool and knelt down to give them both a hug.

“When are you going to come back to babysit us?” demanded Kyle. “You are our favortetest babysitter!”

Bobby didn't wait to hear her answer. “Come play with us!” he shouted, jumping up and down.

Lauren allowed the two boys to take her by the hands and drag her away from the patio and over to an area on the sand where kiddy tables were set up. On the tables platters of cheese sandwiches, carrot sticks, grapes, and juice had been laid out.

A few minutes later, Lauren had kicked off her shoes and was deeply immersed in a three-way game of paddle ball with Bobby and Kyle. Chrissy raced up to her, her eyes shining.

“Okay, how'd it go?” asked Lauren, lunging for the ball and returning a lob to Kyle, who let it drop in front of him. “Game!” she said, laughing, and handed her paddle to the boys.

Chrissy clasped her arm. “His name is Kenny,” she said, “and he's thirteen—almost fourteen, actually—and that makes him a prodigy because he is soooo good on the sax! Did you hear him? And guess what.” She didn't wait for Lauren to guess. “He lives like, five miles away from my house. He and Frank are from the same town. They go to the same school and are actually friendly. And he's totally cool, and smart, and we exchanged numbers,
and he's going to call me when we get home and oh, Lauren! He's just amazing!”

Lauren beamed. “That's so great, Chrissy.”

“Do you mind if I go hang out with him? He finishes at nine because after that they're doing the fireworks but who cares about fireworks. I can go hang out with him while he has something to eat and then meet up with you right before we have to leave. Would that be okay?”

“Of course that would be okay!” said Lauren. She was trying hard to be cheerful for her friend. “I'm really happy for you, Chrissy.”

Chrissy gave a little squeal, bounced up and down a few times, and dashed away. Then she ran back and grabbed Lauren's hand. “I know it wasn't part of the Plan, Lauren, but if you like Frank then maybe you should go tell him.”

“Tell him?” Lauren yelped.

Chrissy laughed. “Okay, maybe not
tell
him, but go talk to him. He's really great.”

“Well . . . maybe,” said Lauren. “I'll try to find him.”

“Okay,” said Chrissy. “We'll meet up later. I can't wait to tell you everything!”

Lauren grinned. She couldn't wait to hear it.

Lauren picked up her shoes. The warm sand felt nice on her feet. She walked down the beach, a little bit away from the party. The music faded behind her. The darkness swallowed her up and she stood, staring out at the waves rolling in. The white foam reflected off the moon, making it look as though it were glowing. She swallowed back a huge lump in her throat. Of course she was happy for Chrissy. But she felt like the only girl on Earth not to find true love. She'd spent nearly three whole weeks—well a whole year and three weeks—chasing after a guy who didn't deserve it, and meanwhile, she'd let her real crush, Frank, slip away. Why had she been so dense? How could she not have seen him for the awesome guy that he was? And now they would be leaving in two days. And she'd probably not see him again until next summer. She was totally repeating her pattern from last summer, crushing on a guy who barely knew she was alive.

She didn't feel like staying for the fireworks. She wondered if she could text Chrissy and just ask her to meet her at home.

Her phone vibrated deep in the pocket of her dress. She pulled it out. It was an unknown number.

“Hello?” she said cautiously.

“Were you going to leave without saying good-bye?” said a boy's voice on the other end.

“Who's thi—is this Frank?”

“Turn around and find out!”

Lauren spun around. Frank was standing ten feet behind her, his phone to his ear. With his free hand he gave her a little wave and walked toward her.

She closed her phone. Stared at him. He looked nervous. Uncertain. Not like his usual confident, goofy self.

“How did you get my number?” she asked, suddenly tongue-tied herself.

He shrugged. “You had me call you that day you lost your phone, remember? I saved it. Of course. The phone number of a pretty girl is not the kind of thing a dude lets get away.”

They stood, staring at each other. Lauren had a million things she wanted to say, but she couldn't get her voice to work.

“I just wanted to tell you before you left that it was fun getting to know you this summer,” Frank said, his words tumbling out quickly. His gaze had dropped to the sand. “I just, um, thought, maybe we could keep in touch.”

Say something,
her inner voice said to her fiercely.
Say. Something. Be casual. Be witty.
No, that was the kind of confusing advice
Chic Chick
would give her. Lauren took a breath. What did she
want
to say? “That would be nice,” she said, her voice all trembly. “I'd like that. Should I, um, give you my e-mail address?”

“No,” he said.

She felt crushed. Should she not have said that?

He stepped toward her. He showed her the screen on his phone:

Lauren ♥

“I don't need your e-mail address 'cause I've got your number.”