Spin Control (11 page)

And speaking of the movie … yeah, it’s
Heath Ledger. And it’s one of those historical dramas. Christie KNOWS I get all hot and bothered by Heath wearing a fancy costume, so this is totally intentional. To top it off, David bought me a large Diet Coke and a medium popcorn, no butter, which is exactly what I like to have. He bought himself Reese’s Pieces (which I love but never buy, because everyone will think I’m an oinker) and made a point of offering me some.

I feel like there’s a massive conspiracy going on around me. Massive. It’s not normal to have everything fall into place so perfectly. We laughed our asses off at dinner, talking about all kinds of things over TGI Friday’s buffalo wings and Caesar salad—fun topics without a mention of Schwerinborg, my mother (I still assume that Jeremy and David do
not
know), or David’s father’s waaay conservative politics.

David brushed my hand a couple times under the table, and he even made the same jokes about the ketchup I always make. He kept grinning at me with his perfect mouth and his perfect eyes, both of which sparkled. (Okay, that might have been the
TGI Friday’s lighting, but they sure seemed to have a sparkly kind of shine whenever he looked at me.)

It was
all
perfectly perfect, and anything that perfect makes me suspicious.

Especially since I am feeling WAY guilty now. To take my mind off the fact my evening—let alone my
life
—had been planned without my consent, I spent this afternoon going through all my e-mail from Vienna West, since I discovered that the high school didn’t close my account like they were supposed to when I transferred to Schwerinborg.

And there it was. It almost made me call Christie and back out of the date-that’s-not-officially-a-date.

COMMUNICATION. Actual communication from Georg.

His e-mail was dated yesterday, the day he got to Zermatt, and it said everything IVe wanted to hear from him ever since the whole tabloid-newspaper-spin-control mess started.

He wants me. For real.

I know because that s what he told me the night of the dinner. We had that same
aura of everything-tonight-is-perfect around us that’s now being created between me and David in the movie theater. But that time, it didn’t feel like a conspiracy. It just
happened
.

I shouldn’t have come. Even before Mrs. Toleski showed up in her minivan to drive me (well, all of us) to TGI Friday’s, I knew things would be okay with me and Georg. But then I figured nothing bad could happen if I just went along with Christie’s plan and played it cool. David couldn’t really be
that
interested in me. Half the girls in school would kill to go out with him, and I’m headed back to Schwerinborg in a week. And by not canceling, I keep Jules, Natalie, and especially Christie from giving me any more crap about it.

But now I’m feeling the vibe. The aura. The psychic whatever-it-is that makes me think this thing between me and David actually might be a
thing
.

Just like I felt with Georg.

I think.

They can’t BOTH be true, can they? I can’t possibly have feelings like this—that a relationship is cosmically ordained—for
two completely different guys at the same time. It s just wrong, at least with one relationship, and maybe with both.

“You know that’s completely inaccurate historically,” David leans over and whispers in my ear as Heath strolls down a street that looks vaguely European and knocks on a weathered door.

I glance at David and smile, because I like that he’s so smart and that he assumes I’m smart, too, since he’s not bothering to point out what the on-screen inaccuracy is. “They didn’t wear those until the late eighteen hundreds, at least,” I whisper back, trying not to think about how solid David’s shoulder feels where he’s leaning it against mine. Must be all that rugby he plays. “No way would they have ’em in the Middle Ages, anyway.”

“Bet Mrs. Bennett wouldn’t have caught it,” he says, close to my ear, and I try not to laugh aloud since we’re smack in the middle of the movie and everyone in the theater’s hush-hush.

We both turn our attention back to the screen, because the movie’s really good (despite the costume inaccuracy), and a few
seconds later he reaches across the armrest and puts his hand over mine. He’s a little tentative (can he tell I’m totally freaking out?), but after a few seconds he laces his fingers through mine. He does it loosely so I can still pull away without being obvious.

But I don’t. His fingers are long and warm and strong, and feel fabulous in between mine.

Most of my friends look at a guy’s eyes, or at his shoulders and arms. With Jules, it’s the way a guy’s rear fits just so in his jeans. Me? I like a guy’s hands, and I’ve always thought David’s were the best. Well, except for Georg’s. Maybe.

David doesn’t look at me, but when I glance over at him he seems totally comfortable, like this is the normal course of events. I try to focus on Heath and the guy he’s arguing with in the movie, but I’ve lost track of what’s going on.

All I can think about is David. And Georg. I mean, doesn’t David know there might be a thing between me and Georg? Is he kidding himself by holding my hand? Everyone else saw the newspaper, so I
know
he must’ve. He reads it every single day,
first, because he’s a natural news junkie, and second, because his dad s in it all the time. (All part of being a powerful Republican lobbyist, Dad once told me when I showed him an article about David’s dad.)

And who am I kidding? There IS a thing between me and Georg, and if I hadn’t been so crazy about the whole “cool it” phone call and had just freaking
asked
him to clarify things (even though, at the time, given the way our conversation went, I thought it would have sounded bizarre to ask him twice), I wouldn’t be here. Feeling guilty.

Oh. My. God.

I am
cheating
.

Is this how Mom felt? Totally ripped up inside? Guilty? Or did she even care?

Because even though I know I love Georg, I’m feeling a total pull toward David. A
normal
girl wouldn’t drool over a guy like I’ve drooled over David, then decide to yank her hand away when he finally holds it, would she?

Or when he tightens his fingers around hers, the way David’s doing now? Because it feels really, REALLY good.

Maybe it’s just that I’m not a normal girl.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he leans over and whispers. “I missed you, Winslow.”

“Thanks—”

And then I feel it. Just the softest, most romantic kiss, right next to my ear. And I have no idea if this is a good thing—the thing I’ve wanted forever and can now get—or if it’s the worst thing possible.

Seven

I am
so
glad we’re in the back row of the theater and no one can see us without turning around and being obvious. With my luck, a reporter flew over from Schwerinborg and followed me into the Heath flick so he could snap a few more pictures. Or worse, maybe there’s a private eye lurking in here. Someone hired by Steffi, because that’s just the sort of thing nasty girls on soap operas always do when they want to get back at the nice girls. They make it their life’s mission to prove the nice girls aren’t so nice.

Steffi watches soaps. Lots of them. I think imitating soap opera bitches is how
she became the evil demon spawn that she is.

Okay, I know my mind is going from highly unlikely possibilities (reporter) to downright whacked possibilities (Steffi), but given what’s happened to me in the last few months, and what’s happening
right now
…

I turn to give David a friendly warning look to discourage further kissing, since even though I like it, it’s WRONG, but before I can get a word out, he leans in, his lips meet mine, and he’s kissing me. This time, for real.

So I kiss him back.

Really, what can I do? I mean, he’s RIGHT THERE. And the kissing’s not bad.

In fact, it’s actually pretty good. Deliberate and kind of daring, since Christie and Jeremy are sitting on my other side, plus who knows who else might get up to go pee and see us, since this theater’s the closest one to Vienna West High School. But it’s obvious from the way David’s kissing me that he doesn’t intend to have one of those grope-heavy sessions you always see other teenagers engaging in
during the movies. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, David has more taste and class than that.

I guess, since his father’s a semi-public figure, he’s learned the tabloid lesson too.

But as his hand squeezes mine tighter for a split second (making me all warm and gooey inside), I can’t help but wonder,
is this really okay?

Of course, I’ve dreamed of kissing him FOREVER. I’ve had it so bad for him, I’ve even pretended that my pillow was David. (I did NOT kiss my pillow—
puh-leeze
—but I did go to sleep at night many, many times imagining I was putting my head on David’s shoulder instead of a bunch of Poly-fil with a flannel cover.)

So I know if I could turn off my brain and forget that I theoretically have a boyfriend waiting for me a few thousand miles away, I would enjoy this immensely. David definitely knows what he’s doing, though it’s not as if I have much basis for comparison. Not even Christie suspects that Georg is the only guy I’ve ever kissed (well, besides Jason Barrows, which DOES NOT count).

It’s totally pathetic, since I know people who are sleeping together, but there you go. I fake experience well, I guess.

David eases back and says in a voice barely loud enough for me to hear, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Not nearly as long as I have, but whatever. Hearing him say it makes all those years of lusting after him soooo worth it.

If
he really means it.

Careful to play it cool, I just give him a little smile before turning my focus back to Heath (and trying to figure out what’s going on in the movie, since now I’m completely lost).

A little over an hour later, we’re in the back of Christie’s mom s minivan. (I cannot WAIT until one of us can drive and Mrs. Toleski doesn’t have to accompany us on every single evening out.) David and I are in the back seat, while Christie and Jeremy are in the middle, behind Christie’s mom.

David let go of my hand right at the end of the movie so it wouldn’t be obvious to Christie and Jeremy what was going on (even though I think Christie was probably trying to watch me out the corner of
her eye as much as she was trying to watch the movie). But now, while Christie is telling her mom about what we had for dinner and Jeremy is picking something off the bottom of his shoe, David’s making it clear he really is serious about this. He reaches his foot under the seat in front of us and hooks mine, where no one else can see, then gives me this very cute, slightly devious smile that makes my insides do a little dance of joy.

“You like the movie, Val?” he asks loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Sure—what wasn’t to like?”

He shifts so he’s slightly closer to me on the seat, and I realize what he was
really
asking me with that question. Geez, but I’m a dork.

“Which way is it again, Valerie?” Christie’s mom asks, looking at me over her shoulder just before turning into the apartment complex where my mom and Gabby have their place. “I think I came in from the other direction when I picked you up.”

“Take your first right—by the stop sign—then its the second building on your right. Middle stairwell.”

As she pulls into an empty parking spot along the curb in front of Moms building, David asks, “Want me to walk you to the door?”

The sidewalk from the street to the stairwell door is about a hundred feet long, but I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself, even though it’s midnight. I mean, we’re in a nice part of town, and Mrs. Toleski can see all the way from the van to the front door—it’s no dark alley or anything.

“I’m fine,” I say as Christie and Jeremy scoot over so I can climb past the middle row of seats and out the sliding door.

“I’d feel better if David walked you up,” Mrs. Toleski says, which I suspected she would (she’s cautious—probably comes from having been a nun), so David hops out of the van behind me before I can argue.

Secretly, though, I’m kind of glad he’s with me. Not because I think there’s a wacko lurking in the bushes, though. Just because.

I thank Mrs. Toleski, say bye to Jeremy and Christie (while trying to ignore the
self-satisfied grin on Christie’s face), and turn toward the apartment, with David right off my elbow. I can tell from the way he’s walking, close to me but with his hands very carefully tucked into his front pockets, that he’s hyper-aware of our proximity and the fact we’re on a mostly dark sidewalk with all the stars out overhead. The clear skies and the soft breeze around us make the atmosphere totally romantic in a way you usually only see on sappy TV movies.

I’ve always known when David was within a shouting distance of me—I’ve developed a well-honed radar regarding the guy—but this is the first time I’ve been positive
he’s
really noticing
me
.

And it’s pretty cool.

We step up onto the wide stair outside the heavy glass door leading to my mom’s new apartment and I fish around in my purse for the key Mom gave me—mostly so I don’t have to stand there feeling awkward, wondering if he’s going to kiss me good night.

“Must be hard seeing your mom living in an apartment all by herself,” he says. “I
couldn’t imagine having to deal with a divorce or trying to choose between parents.”

“Yeah,” I say. He clearly doesn’t know the whole story, which means Christie has kept her word—so far. I’m tempted to tell David the truth about my parents, even though we only have a minute. First, I want to be certain he hears it from me instead of from gossip central, and second, I’m curious about how he’ll react. But I keep my mouth shut. Just for tonight, I don’t want to know.

He bites his bottom lip, which I’ve never seen him do. David Anderson isn’t the nervous type.

“What’s wrong?”

He shrugs. “I just wish you weren’t going back to Europe, I guess. That you’d consider staying here with your mom. I know living in the apartment means you’d have to go to school at Lake Braddock instead of Vienna West, but it’d make Christie real happy. She’s been moping around like you wouldn’t believe since you left.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “It’d make me happy too.”