The Perfect Guy (Books We Love Young Adult Romance) (15 page)

I drank in the congratulations. I knew Mom and Gramma would think anything I did was great. But I always thought Bill and Pres were too reserved to praise people—even family—and at that moment I really started to feel like we were a family. While time alone had not magically solved all my problems of fitting into my new family, it had gotten me to the point where I had a better feel for what Pres and Bill were really like. It would take more time, and more effort on my part, to develop a full relationship with them.

It was just as well that I hadn’t tried to get Mom to side with me against Bill and his rules. We needed to solve our problems as a family. I would definitely work on it, but I would talk to Bill calmly, not charge at him waving a list of demands. I’d have to tear up that awful picture I’d drawn of him too.

For a while the celebration took my mind off the events of last night, but after breakfast I was glad when Mom and Bill and Gramma insisted on cleaning up so the "author and star" could take it easy. I needed to talk to Pres alone. I had to find out just how much he knew about what my feelings for him had been. Celeste could have told him everything, if he hadn’t already guessed. I shuddered at the thought. Talking about it could be embarrassing, but it would be better than wondering about it for the rest of my life.

I drew Pres aside and asked if I could speak to him privately.

"Sure," he said. "Let’s go to my room."

It occurred to me that this would be the first time I’d ever seen his room. He always kept the door closed. Of course, a day ago I would have been thrilled out of my mind at Pres’s suggestion. Now it just seemed like a practical idea.

Pres ushered me in and cleared off a pile of clothes from his bed so I could sit down. Somehow I’d expected the place to be neat and tidy. Instead, clothes littered the floor and desk and spilled out of the dresser. Books and papers were scattered everywhere. Maybe if I’d gotten a good look at his room earlier, my illusions would have been shattered sooner. Maybe I would have realized I was more in love with the product of my imagination than a real person.

"I think I know what you want to talk about." Pres sat next to me and took my hands in his.

I nodded, hoping I could survive the talk without making a fool of myself.

"I don’t want you to worry about Alicia." Pres paused, then continued. "I noticed you looked upset when Josh danced with her last night, but I’m sure he was just being polite. As for Alicia, I don’t think she’s really after Josh. She just likes to flirt and have fun."

I was speechless. Pres didn’t have a clue what my feelings for him had been. Thank goodness. I guess Celeste never said anything. At least they hadn’t laughed about me. He seemed to assume I had something going with Josh. I wondered if I did.

"You ... I thought .... So. I don’t have to worry about Alicia. Um, that’s a relief." I couldn’t really say any more than that, because I wasn’t sure if I’d laugh or cry, and I didn’t want Pres to get the impression that I was hysterical.

"Josh has dated all sorts of girls," Pres said. "Tall, short, thin, plump, pretty, and plain. He’s liked them all, but I don’t think he’s ever been in love. Personally, I think he’s just been marking time, waiting for the right girl. But he has always appreciated
… friendships with girls. Probably because he’s always had such a good relationship with Celeste."

I nodded. I didn’t want to talk about Celeste. Thinking about her was painful enough.

"Speaking of Celeste." Pres grinned. "I guess you’ve figured out by now how we feel about each other. We have you to thank for bringing us together."

"Me?" I took a shaky breath and tried not to faint.

"Sure. Celeste and I had been just friends. In fact, I only thought of her as Josh’s sister. Then we started the play." Pres blushed. "We began seeing each other in a new light. The love scene you wrote for us clinched it. When I was kissing Alicia the first time we rehearsed the scene and I found myself wishing she were Celeste, well, that's when I knew Celeste was the one for me. You’re a regular matchmaker, Rebecca."

"Me?" I knew I was repeating myself, but it was all I could do as the force of thirty-two shades of red washed over me from head to toe.

"Yes." Pres exclaimed. "Not only do I have a wonderful girlfriend, but I have a great sister too. I don’t think I realized, until I had you here, just how great it would be to have a sister, especially one who’d also lost a parent. I think you understand my feelings. I’m lucky. Probably too lucky."

I wasn’t sure how many more surprises I could absorb, but I couldn’t let Pres’s remark go by. "What do
you mean, ‘too lucky’?"

"Well, I have a lot going for me, a lot of skills. But not as many as people credit me with. Everyone assumes I’m a leader. I get elected student body president without even trying because everyone thinks I’d be good at it. The other officers and members are the ones who get things done. I just pound my gavel from time to time. I guess you could say I’ve played the role of a leader."

Pres paused before continuing. "One of the nice things about Celeste is that she accepts me as I am, less than perfect. It’s the same with you. Nothing like living with a kid sister to keep a guy honest."

"M-me?" I stuttered again. I wished I could think of a more original response.

"Sure. You see me at less than my best. Looking a wreck in the morning or in a towel with water dripping down my face. Shutting out your mother … I’m sure you have no illusions about me."

"Well." I gulped. "Maybe I had one or two."

Pres laughed. "See? Even now you don’t take me too seriously."

"Just serious enough to tell you how much I appreciate having you for a brother." I breathed a sigh of relief. I could see him as a brother now. I could love him as one as well.

"It’ll be nice knowing you and Celeste like me as I really am, when I’m away at college, where I’ll be starting over with new friends. I won’t have my high school image to live up to. Once I’m there maybe I can say out loud that what I really want to be is an actor."

"An actor?" Funny, nothing surprised me at this point. "So why not say it here and now, if that’s what you really want?"

"I don’t know. I think Dad will be disappointed."

"I know it will be difficult for you, but I think you should talk to him about it." Listen to me, the voice of experience. "I bet he’d be proud. Look how he reacted to me and the play."

"Well, maybe. I might say something. After a few semesters."

"I guess you’ll know when the time is right for you," I said. "
But don’t take too long."

"I’ll try not to," Pres said. Then he hugged me. "I’m glad you’re my sister."

I clung to him for a moment. I liked being in his arms. It made me feel safe and warm and loved. It was a comfortable feeling, and I cherished it. But I realized that the feeling was definitely brotherly. He didn’t make me feel the way Josh did lately. I gave Pres one last squeeze. "I’m glad we had this talk. But I’ve got to run now. I have, uh, a couple of things I have to do."

"That’s okay. I’ve got to shower and shave." Pres rubbed his chin. "I’m seeing Celeste this afternoon."

"Oh. Well. I’d better get going." I gave Pres a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried to my room where I slumped down on my bed. A blade of pain pricked at my heart at the mention of Celeste’s name. Though I knew we’d never be friends again, I’d have to attempt some sort of reconciliation with her. She was not only Pres’s girlfriend; she was Josh’s sister too. We’d be seeing a lot of each other, like it or not, especially if there was indeed something between Josh and me.

I dressed quickly and slipped quietly down the stairs and out the back door. I didn’t want Pres to know I was going to see Celeste. He’d only wonder why I didn’t just say so, and I
certainly didn’t want to explain how painful it was going to be.

Chapter Sixteen

The sun streaming through the maple trees lining the street failed to make the thought of my task any easier. As I approached Gramma’s driveway, I hesitated. Celeste was in her driveway, washing the family van. Seeing her, I was not so sure I had the nerve to talk to her. It would be easy enough to walk up to Gramma’s house instead.

Before I could decide what to do, Celeste looked up and spotted me. I could still walk up Gramma’s driveway. But what would that solve? I had to talk to Celeste sometime.
In person. I took a deep breath and headed toward the Sullivan’s house.

"Hi," I said. I stuffed my hands in my pockets. It was weird feeling awkward with Celeste.

"Hello." Celeste did not look up as she rubbed a soapy sponge across the hood of the van.

I glanced toward the house, wondering if Josh was inside, wondering if he had any idea what I was going to discuss with his sister. "Do you mind ... do you mind if we talk?"

"No." Celeste still didn’t look at me. "If you recall, last night I wanted to talk to you."

So,
Celeste wasn’t going to make it easy for me. I guess I didn’t blame her. I fumbled for words, trying to figure out how to begin, what to say. "Look, I, uh, it’s obvious you and Pres … care a great deal for each other."

"Yes, we do." There was a softer tone to Celeste’s voice. She stole a peek at me as she tossed the sponge into a bucket of water. "I didn’t plan it." She picked up the hose, adjusted the spray nozzle, and started rinsing off the van. "It just happened."

"I see." I decided not to press Celeste for exactly when it just happened for her. If I was going to maintain any sort of relationship with her, no matter how difficult, it would be best to assume she fell for Pres the same time he fell for her. It would seem like less of a betrayal that way.

"It happened over a long period of time." Celeste turned off the hose and faced me. "Pres was always around, playing basketball in the driveway or having a catch out back with Josh. At first I just thought of him as a nice guy, one of Josh’s friends. And, of course, you’d selected him for your Prince Charming, so, naturally, I had no intention of thinking of him romantically."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Then why were you always trying to convince me that things wouldn’t work out the way I’d hoped for me and Pres?"

"Because I knew that no one, not even Pres, could ever live up to that ideal you’d created. It wasn’t fair to him and it wasn’t fair to you. You were closing yourself off from any other guy who might want to go out with you."

"Oh, right," I snapped. "Get real. Guys were not exactly lining up to ask me out. I’m not you. I haven’t had hordes of boys flocking around me ever since junior high."

"That’s it, isn’t it? You were shy and confused when it came to
guys way back in seventh grade and you were afraid no one would ever ask you out. So you dreamed up your Mr. Perfect and convinced yourself you couldn’t possibly settle for anyone less."

"No." I spun around, turning my back to Celeste. "That’s not true."

"Don’t get me wrong," she said. "I don’t think you consciously realized what you were doing. You worried that no one would ask you out, so you set your standards so high nobody dared ask you out. You scared them away. You were afraid of a real relationship, so you settled for a fantasy one."

"No!" I put my hands over my ears.

I wanted to run away. Something stopped me. As the cliché so succinctly puts it, the truth hurt. No one is perfect. I had set up impossible standards and I had kept guys at arm’s length. Why? Because I’d matured a little more slowly than the other girls? Because I hadn’t automatically learned to flirt by the first day of junior high? Because I’d discovered that the boys who’d been pals the year before suddenly made me nervous and tongue-tied?

I dropped my hands to my sides and turned to look at Celeste. Tears pricked at my eyes. "You’re right," I said softly. "Forgive me?"

"I think we need to forgive each other." Celeste bit her lip. "I should have leveled with you as soon as I realized I was attracted to Pres. It would have saved us a lot of grief."

"Oh, Celeste." I reached out my hands to her. "Do you think we can still be friends?"

Celeste nodded, and next thing we were hugging and the tears I’d been holding back rolled down my face. Then I stood back and brushed away the tears. I couldn’t afford to lose any more time.

"Now that all that’s settled, I have to ask you about Josh." I smiled tentatively, hoping to disguise my nervousness. "Did you
… does he know about my, uh, infatuation with Pres?"

"I think he figured everything out. Not because I discussed any of it with him, your feelings or mine, but because he’s an observant person."

"Unlike yours truly."

"
Hey, don’t be down on yourself."

"I’m not." I squared my shoulders. "Where is Josh? I’d like to talk to him. I have a lot to explain. I sort of ran out on him last night."

I hoped I wouldn’t be too late. He’d be graduating soon and then maybe flying off to Oregon to play baseball, for all I knew.

"Let’s see." Celeste tapped her temple. "He went out. Didn’t say where, just that he needed to think. He left about a half an hour ago."

"Half an hour," I exclaimed. "He could be anywhere by—wait. He said he needed to think?"