The Perfect Guy (Books We Love Young Adult Romance) (14 page)

I’d have to try to make a joke out of it, not let him realize I’d been swept away by that kiss
, even for a moment.

"Well." I forced a small laugh. "That will help explain why we’re late for the cast party."

"Then you’ll go with me now?"

"Sure." I tried to sound casual. "We’ll both freeze if we stay here much longer."

On the way home I tried to force myself not to think of what was waiting there, tried not to think how difficult it was going to be to face Pres and Celeste and pretend that nothing was wrong. I concentrated instead on Josh’s arm around me, the touch of his fingers pressing gently on my shoulder. Even though he probably wasn’t even aware of what he was doing, I appreciated the distraction and the sense of security that his tender touch provided.

Once home I braced myself at the front door. I would never have been able to walk in there alone, but Josh made things easy for me. As soon as the door opened and the bright lights and sounds of music and laughter washed over us, he took over, leading me through the crowd, greeting everyone with a loud hello.

To those who asked, Josh gave his prepared explanation of why we were late, winking and smiling at me to give credence to the story. His abbreviated explanation, minus a couple details and the winking, caused Bill to raise an eyebrow, Mom to look a bit surprised, and Gramma to look downright pleased. Gramma’s look left me feeling bewildered and all the more anxious to somehow escape to my room.

Josh kept a firm grip on my arm as he led me to the punch bowl.

"You’re doing great," he said. "How about some punch?"

I nodded. I could hold out a while longer, especially since I hadn’t seen Pres and Celeste yet. I wondered if they weren’t there, or if I’d just managed to avoid catching a glimpse of them by looking at the floor most of the time. As I wrapped my fingers around the cold cup of punch Josh handed me, a pair of mauve sandals danced into view.

"Hi." Alicia waved her fingers under my nose. "It’s me. Didn’t the play go beautifully? The applause was fantastic. Who would have guessed about Pres and Celeste? No wonder they played the love scene so convincingly." She clasped her hands to her heart. "Of course, the way you wrote the scene certainly helped too!"

"Alicia." Josh practically shouted, making her jump. "Wouldn’t you like some punch?"

"Oh, how nice of you to offer, but no thanks," Alicia said, her eyes glowed. "What I would like is a dance with you."

"Well, I
...." Josh put his arm around me. "You see—"

"Oh, go ahead, Josh." I flashed a reassuring smile.

"You sure you don’t mind?"

"Not at all. You dance while I drink my punch."

With that, Alicia whirled Josh out to the center of the room.

I set my cup down on the table. Now was my chance to escape. I’d managed to avoid Pres and Celeste so far, but my luck couldn’t hold forever. I wanted to slip away to my room before I ran into them.

Turning to leave I bumped smack into Pres.

"Hi. I finally found you," he said.

"Hi," I said in a small voice.

Celeste wasn’t with him, but still, I wanted to get away. I didn’t want to hear him tell me about his relationship with her. That must have been what he’d meant when he said he wanted to tell me something. What a fool I’d been to think otherwise.

"I’ve been looking all over for you. I just had to tell you how great the play was and how I appreciate you tailoring the part for me, and, well, what a fantastic sister you are." With that, Pres kissed me. On the cheek.

"Thanks," I said, swallowing my hurt. "I-I always thought you were pretty special." That was true, as far as it went. "Excuse me. I, uh, I have a headache. I’m going upstairs."

Without waiting for a reply, I threaded my way through the crowd. Just as I entered the dimly lit hallway I bumped into someone.

"Excuse me," I murmured as I tried to slip by.

"Rebecca." It was Celeste. "I’ve got to talk to you."

"Well, I don’t want to talk to you." I glared at Celeste, hoping my stare would turn her to stone.

She touched my arm. "Look. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen. Honest, I couldn’t help—"

"Spare me." I batted her hand away. "
I see now why you were always discouraging me about Pres. You wanted him for yourself all along."

"No. It just happened. I didn’t want it to. Please, let me explain."

"Forget it." I turned and ran up the stairs. Even though Celeste had the decency not to follow me, I played it safe and went to the attic. Maybe there I could be alone for a while.

I didn’t turn on the light. Moonlight filtered in the windows. After a few minutes I could see almost as well as if it were daytime. I sat on a trunk in the corner and pretended that the shadows and shapes we
re a castle at twilight and I was a princess in some faraway land where no one ever heard of Pres or Celeste. I sat in my turret and waited for my prince to come. It was silly pretending, but it was better than allowing myself to think about how hurt I felt, and how betrayed.

It wasn’t easy trying to pretend there was a prince out there, especially a prince who loved me. It was easy to think no one loved me, least of all Pres.

Pres. I wanted to get him out of my mind. I got up and paced around the attic. My foot kicked a carton and something tumbled out of it. I knelt to pick it up. It was the heart-shaped candy box.

I rubbed the smooth edge of the pink bow on the lid. Someone had left the box of candy on my back steps on Valentine’s Day. It came with a card addressed to me, but the only signature had been a question mark. Someone had cared enough to send me that big pink satiny box of candy. At first I’d even thought by some miracle it might have been from Pres. But since the sender hadn’t been bold enough to include his name, I’d decided he couldn’t have been the perfect guy I was waiting for.

As I fingered the pink bow, the door to the attic opened. The light clicked on. So … Celeste had decided to follow me after all. I set the candy box down on the trunk and braced myself for the confrontation.

This time I planned to tell Celeste in no uncertain terms that I would never speak to her again. With each sound of shoes scraping the steps my anger mounted.

"Rebecca, dear, are you up here?"

"Gramma?" I tried to replace my anger with a smile.

"I’ve been looking all over for you. Why are you up here? Aren’t you feeling well?"

"I, um, yes, I have a headache and
… I just don’t feel good." I coughed to demonstrate my infirmity. "I, er, walked home without my sweater."

"Oh, but you’re missing all the fun. You should be down there. After all, you’re the author of the most successful play in town."

"That’s over and done with." I hoped I didn’t sound too bitter.

"Is that what’s bothering you?" Gramma picked her way over to me. "You know, the play may be over, but it won’t be forgotten. You’ll always have memories of it."

"I know, I know." I picked up the candy box so Gramma and I could sit down. "Josh said the same thing."

"Well, Josh is a smart young—" Gramma whisked the candy box out of my hands. "Well, speak of the devil." She tapped her finger on the lid of the box. "I helped Josh pick this out for you. Oh, my. I guess I let the cat out of the bag. But then, I don’t suppose it’s a big secret any more."

I was speechless. I felt a though I’d need battery cables to get my heart started again.

"Rebecca, you do look pale." Gramma pressed her hand on my forehead. "Maybe you should go down to your room and get into bed."

I licked my lips. There was enough feeling in them now for me to be able to form a few words. "I think I will."

I followed Gramma down the attic stairs, then said goodnight to her. As I watched her go back to the party, a pair of shadowy figures caught my eye in the corner of the hallway below. It was Pres and Celeste kissing. Somehow it didn’t hurt so much this time. Maybe that was because I was still in a state of shock about what Gramma said.

On automatic pilot I undressed and crawled into bed. I lay awake for a long time, thinking and rethinking my relationships with Pres and Celeste and Josh. I had to sort out my feelings.

I’d thought if I’d known anyone, I’d certainly known Celeste. I’d thought she was a true friend
, one I could count on, no matter what. I never would have thought she’d try to steal the boy I loved right out from under my nose. Somewhere along the line she’d fallen for Pres herself. When? How long had Celeste cared for Pres, cared for him so much that she would chance ruining our friendship for him?

What about Pres? How had I so badly misread his feelings? Had I just wanted so much for him to love me that I’d misinterpreted his every action?

I pulled my pillow over my head, trying to block out Celeste’s warnings echoing in my ears. How many times had she said to stop daydreaming and be realistic?

I’d always dreamed of finding my white knight. When Pres came along
—so smart, so good looking, so talented—had I just dressed him in a suit of armor and proclaimed him my Prince Charming without ever taking the time to think about how I really felt about him? All the plans and schemes and wishful thinking had been fun and exciting. But was that love? Had I ever actually experienced that sensation when I was with Pres, or had it merely been the excitement of trying to capture that preconceived image I’d cast him into?

I liked Pres. I appreciated all his good qualities.
But I now realized he didn’t make me feel the way ... the way Josh did. When Pres kissed me it wasn’t like when Josh kissed me tonight. Just thinking about it, I could still feel Josh’s lips on mine, and that hot, tingly sensation.

Come to think of it, the night Josh and I had devoured cookies while watching TV I’d felt something for him then, too, when he’d kissed me. Only I’d tried to deny it. I’d tried to convince myself that I’d been thinking about Pres, and that Josh had only been kidding around.

Now I wondered how Josh
did
feel about me. I was, at long last, beginning to see I had strong feelings for him. But Josh had tons of girlfriends and he was always flirting. He had helped me with the play, but maybe that was because, as he’d said, he just wanted to get involved with something besides sports before he graduated. Of course, there was that kiss at the baseball game. But what if that was just to amuse the crowd?

What confused me the most was the Valentine candy box. Why had he given it to me? Had Celeste known about it all along? I doubted it, because Josh had asked Gramma to help him pick it out. Maybe he gave it to me to boost my fragile ego.

One thing I knew for sure. As I fell into an uneasy sleep, I made up my mind to talk to Pres and Josh. And even, though probably for the last time, Celeste.

Chapter Fifteen

I awoke the next morning to a clamor coming from the kitchen. Voices competed with the clatter of dishes and the banging of pots and pans. I figured everyone was cleaning from the cast party.

I decided I ought to pitch in and help. It would be a good time to start facing Pres, with everyone there at once. That way I wouldn’t do anything foolish, like burst into tears. I had to live with Pres, so I figured I had to get used to dealing with him in a normal manner.

The smell of waffles and bacon met me at the kitchen door.

"Good morning," I said, trying to keep a composed look on my face.

Everyone looked up from what they were doing and rushed over to greet me. I noticed that Gramma was there.

Pres grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the breakfast table. It was set with the good china, decorated with flowers from the yard, and had three newspapers stacked near my plate.

"Sit," Pres commanded as he pulled out the chair for me.

"What is all this?" I asked.

"Let me get you some fresh-squeezed orange juice," Bill said.

"I’ll get the bacon and waffles," said Mom

In an instant food was on the table and everyone was sitting at their places looking expectantly at me.

"What did I do?" I said finally, as all eyes continued to bore in on me. "Sleep through to my birthday?"

"I can’t stand it," Pres said. "Would you look at the newspapers?"

I picked up one of the papers and saw that it was folded open to a particular article. "It’s a review of the play."

"There are three reviews," Mom said. "Bill was so proud of you for writing the play that he called all the area newspapers and urged them to review it."

Bill didn’t say anything. He just smiled and nodded toward the newspaper. So I read the first article, then the next, and the next. They
were unanimous in their praise! While I was thrilled that all the reviews lauded the acting, the directing, and even the sets, what especially pleased me was seeing the phrases, "well-written," "fresh," and "thoroughly researched," scattered through each article.

When I finished reading them all twice I finally stammered, "Th-thanks. I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," said Gramma. "Last night’s party was for everyone. This is for you." She raised her glass of juice. "To Rebecca!"