Puppy Love (5 page)

“Sorry I'm late, gorgeous!” he called out.

When I'd seen him last, he'd been dressed relatively normally in jeans and a Skerrabra concert tee. Now? He was decked out in a tuxedo and wingtips. Very James Bond.

Obviously he'd scored big at one of the local consignment shops and was ready for another installment of our favorite activity, the Disguise Game. That was our thing. We would dress up as different crazy characters, from sixties hippies to medical students to motorcycle gangsters, then go out and see who noticed and what happened. Robert had come up with the idea soon after we became friends. We'd been browsing in a thrift store and found matching neon pants straight out of the eighties. I'd taken a little convincing the first time or two—I wasn't as brave or attention-seeking as he was, to put it mildly. But then he'd asked me:
What's the worst that can happen?

And just like that, I was convinced. Because he was right. What was the worst that could happen? I'd be embarrassed, and maybe the cool kids at County Day would make fun of me. Big
whoop. Most of them were jerks anyway. Why live my life for them?

And you know what? It had turned out to be fun. It felt strangely exhilarating to walk around disguised as someone else, a different kind of person, one who didn't care what anyone thought. One who lived a whole different kind of life from the real me. The boring, everyday, nondisguised me.

Jamal seemed startled by Robert's sudden arrival. “Who's that?” he asked me.

“My ride.” I smiled as Robert strode over and grabbed me by the elbow. Muckle jumped up around his legs, barking like crazy, but Robert ignored him.

“Come,” he said, his voice deeper and more manly than usual. “We have to go. I can't live another moment without you by my side, my raven-haired beauty.”

I rolled my eyes. Even Robert's vivid imagination had to stretch to refer to me, with my frizzed-out medium-dishwater locks, as a “raven-haired beauty.” Still, he'd rescued me from Jamal's awkward boyfriend question, so I was willing to play along.

“I'm coming,” I said, allowing him to drag me over to the car with Muckle still leaping around our legs. I waved at Jamal as Robert hurried around to the driver's seat. “See you on Tuesday!”

I barely had time to see Jamal raise his hand to wave back before Robert threw the car into gear and peeled out across the parking lot. Muckle was so excited by all the action that he jumped right into Robert's lap, still barking like a crazy dog.

“Down, foul beast,” Robert told him, but he didn't sound that annoyed. I could tell he was in a good mood. He usually was after a successful shopping spree.

“So where'd you get the monkey suit?” I asked, dragging Muckle over onto my lap.

“Second Chance Threads,” Robert replied. “Scored some excellent finds. I'll show you the rest later.” He glanced over at Muckle, who'd gone quiet and was only wiggling a little bit as he looked out the window. “How was puppy reform school?”

“Great.” I settled back in my seat with a smile. “Muckle did okay. Oh yeah, and I just met the love of my life.”

Chapter
Five

C
ome on, don't be a
wuss,” Robert said. “At least try it on.”

“I'm afraid to,” I retorted. “I might get polyester poisoning.”

We were in my room, where Robert had just spread all of the previous day's purchases out on my bed, including the one he was currently trying to convince me to put on. It was a hideously slinky teal-blue polyester dress that looked like it should have come with a disco ball. Even Muckle had taken one look at the thing and dashed out of the room.

Robert had arrived at my house wearing the dress's companion outfit—a shiny, geometric-patterned vintage leisure suit. He'd matched it with his favorite pair of purple Converse high-tops and a pair of designer sunglasses he'd probably swiped from his dad.

“Just do it,” he urged me. “I want to see if it fits.”

“Seriously, I'm not in the mood.” I grabbed the slimy half-chewed bone Muckle had left in the middle of the floor, depositing it in his toy basket. “Right after we got home from puppy class yesterday, Muckle got up on the counter and ate the pork chops that were supposed to be thawing for dinner, and Mom totally freaked out. What if the classes don't work? Mom and Dad said if Muckle doesn't start behaving better soon, he's out of here.”

“You've only had one class so far,” Robert reminded me, fingering his wide lapels lovingly. “Even Mr. and Mrs. Uptight can't be that impatient. Give it a chance.”

I sighed. “I guess you're right. But seriously, what if the class doesn't work?”

“What if, what if?” Robert mocked me. “What, are you turning into your sister, Ms. Type A?”

I rolled my eyes. I was so not like Britt, not even a little bit. Still, the insult snapped me out of my pity party. Just the way Robert had known it would.

“Fine,” I said, reaching for the disco dress. “I'll try it on. But I'm definitely not leaving the house in this thing.”

The dress was so slippery I dropped it the first two times I tried to put it on. By the time I'd gotten it on and adjusted, Robert had picked out a pair of shoes to go with it—some goofy white platforms he'd bought for me at a yard sale over the summer. They weren't easy to walk in, but I managed to toddle over to the full-length mirror on the back of my door.

“Wow,” I said, turning this way and that. “This thing actually looks pretty cool. Disco forever!”

I struck a pose, and Robert wolf-whistled. We were debating whether some sparkly purple eye shadow would be overkill (me: yes; Robert: overkill? What's that?) when I heard my mother shouting my name. Uh-oh. That couldn't be good.

She burst into my room a few seconds later. “Lauren!” she snapped. “I thought you promised to keep an eye on that dog. I just found him in the mud room closet, chewing up my Babolat!”

That was one of her tennis rackets. Mom had been a top player in college, and apparently had big plans to go pro before she slipped on an icy sidewalk and messed up her knee. After the surgery she was never the same, though she had taught lessons on the side to help support herself back in her single days. In fact, that was how she'd met my dad—his sister had been one of her regular students.

Muckle himself appeared at that moment, looking very pleased with himself as he slipped between Mom's legs and trotted over to me with his tail wagging. The taste of catgut and graphite must have agreed with him.

“Sorry,” I said, snatching him up and hugging him to me. “He's probably just bored. Totally my fault. I'll take him for a nice, long walk right now, and he'll be fine.”

I kicked off the platforms, slipped on a pair of flats, and hurried past Mom, who was muttering something about how her beloved racquet wasn't fine. Robert followed me down the stairs.
I paused only long enough to grab Muckle's leash off the hook before continuing out the front door.

“So I can't get you to leave the house, but you'll do it for that stupid mutt?” Robert said.

That reminded me what I was wearing. “Oh, man.” I glanced down at myself. The dress looked even shinier in the sunlight. “If anyone recognizes me in this, I'll never be able to show my face in the this town again.”

“Here. These will help.” Robert grabbed his dad's sunglasses, which he'd tucked into his shirt while I was primping. He stuck them on my face and stepped back. “Perfect. Totally incognito.”

“Aren't these men's sunglasses?” I tilted my head, and the glasses slid halfway down my nose.

“Gender is merely a construct.” Robert eyed Muckle, who was sniffing at a nearby flowerbed. “I have an idea. Get in the car.”

“What? Didn't you hear my mom? I need to tire out this puppy before he eats the rest of the house.” I tugged on Muckle's leash to keep him from chewing on Dad's prize rosebush.

“I know. And I have an idea for a way to do that.”

“The dog park?” I guessed. “I heard there's one over in Springdale, but I've never been there.”

“No, this is way better. Just trust me, okay?”

I shrugged. Maybe it would be better to get Muckle farther away from Mom than a mere walk could take us. “Okay. Come on, Muck.”

A few minutes later Robert made the turn into the shopping
center where PetzBiz was located. “Ta-da!” he said. “I'm dying to check out Mr. Hottie McIrish. Since we're in disguise already, I figured we could sneak in and spy on him. You said he's teaching classes here this afternoon, right?”

Drat. Why had I told him that? I'd spent half an hour the night before online-stalking Adam's teaching schedule, but that didn't mean I had to tell anyone.

“We can't,” I blurted out. “What if Adam sees me?”

“What if he does?” Robert countered. “You look hot in that dress. And this Adam guy sounds just plain hot.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing,” he cut me off. “How often does a guy like this drop into your lap? You need to go for it, Lauren. Seriously. It could be the next best thing to actually dating Corc himself.” He smirked. “Besides, if I can pair you off with this guy, that leaves Corc all for me.”

“Yeah, dream on. You're not exactly his type, if you know what I mean.” I glanced at the store, a flicker of nerves making me shiver. Maybe Robert was right. Maybe I needed to be brave, grab life by the throat, go for it.

Or maybe not. Either way, Robert wasn't waiting for me to make up my mind. He was already getting out of the car.

I did the same. Part of me was terrified by this whole plan, but the rest of me was eager to catch another glimpse of Adam. He was so perfect, I was half-afraid I'd imagined him the day before. I figured it was possible. Muckle might have gotten a little too
excited on our way into the store, yanking me into a tall display of canned cat food. One of the cans could have bounced off my head, rendering me unconscious and hallucinatory.

It could happen, right? So maybe it was better to go in there and confirm that Adam was real. I'd even have Robert as a witness this time.

There wasn't much to do on a Sunday afternoon in our boring little suburb, which meant a lot of people were browsing the dog toys and hamster pellets. A few of them glanced curiously at our outfits, but mostly everyone ignored us. That was the fate of being a teenager in suburban America. You were mostly irrelevant, incidental, invisible.

“Wait. We need a plan,” I hissed, grabbing Robert's polyester sleeve. “I don't want Adam to see me dressed like this.”

“You should. That dress is very eye-catching.” He looked me up and down critically. “Although I don't know why you ditched the platforms. And we should have done your hair.”

Muckle had been trailing along more or less obediently at the end of his leash. But just then he spotted a greyhound walking by. His ears pricked and he let out a series of piercing yips, dancing around, trying to pull me toward the other dog.

“Quit it, Muckle,” I said, distracted by the idea that Adam was so close. “We're supposed to be undercover. No barking.”

Luckily, the greyhound completely ignored Muckle and soon disappeared around the corner with its owner. Muckle settled down and started sniffing at the nearest shelf display, which happened
to be a stack of puppy piddle pads. I pushed my oversize sunglasses farther up my nose and gave a tug on his leash, then followed Robert toward the back of the store.

We stopped at the end of the aisle closest to the training ring. Peering around a display of toenail clippers, I felt my heart skip a beat.

“There he is,” I whispered in Robert's ear.

“Nice!” he hissed back, leaning out a little farther for a better view.

Adam was teaching a class of four adults. The dogs looked like adults too. There were a couple of shepherdy-looking mutts, a golden retriever, and a big poodle with a close-cropped black coat. All of them were walking briskly in a circle at their owners' sides, stopping when they stopped and turning when they turned.

“Wow,” I whispered. “They're pretty good. Guess Adam must know what he's doing, huh?”

“Who cares? Just look at him,” Robert whispered back, his eyes gleaming with interest. “You have impeccable taste, Parker.”

“I know, right? He's super dreamy.” I smiled as Adam called for his students to stop. All of them—dogs and humans alike—halted promptly and turned to face him.

Adam started talking to them, but his back was to us now, and I couldn't hear what he was saying. But the dogs' handlers were nodding and smiling.

I was smiling too. Adam was everything I'd thought he was and more. If anything, he looked even better today than he had
yesterday. Probably because his gorgeousness had taken me by surprise then.

“He's so your type, Lauren,” Robert murmured. “It's hard to hear the accent from here, though. Let's try to get closer.”