The Perfect Guy (Books We Love Young Adult Romance) (2 page)

***

While I was waiting for the ceremony to begin in the claustrophobic cubicle off the Rose Room, my hands sweated so much I could hardly hold onto the bouquet of white and purple violets. I glanced at Mom. In a few minutes she would become Martha Nelsen. How could she look so serene? Standing there calmly, casually adjusting one of the tiny white rosebuds entwined in her wavy brown hair, you’d think she was in line at the bank instead of waiting to get married.

Suddenly there was a knock, and I was being ushered out the door and into the hallway with a clear view of Reverend Finney. The music began. Mom winked at me as she headed down the aisle. I must have put myself on automatic pilot, because the next thing I knew we were standing in the reception line. The ceremony was a blur—holding Mom’s bouquet, taking Pres’s arm, and somehow forgetting to smile lovingly at him, even though I’d plotted for weeks how I would instantly win his
love with a warm, meaningful smile.

It wasn’t until after the cake-cutting ceremony that I snapped out of my trance. I looked around for Pres before realizing that he was standing next to me. I was about to launch into a heart-to-heart conversation with him when Josh bounded over, carelessly brandishing his fork over his plate of cake.

"Great wedding. Delicious cake. Beautiful maid of honor." Josh kissed my cheek. His dimples and cleft chin nicely framed his generous smile.

Now, if it were Pres calling me beautiful, I’m sure I’d have blushed like crazy. But it was only Josh, kidding around as always, so I laughed and reached up to ruffle his curly black hair. "You must have some respect for weddings," I teased. "You wore a tie and jacket." Josh’s idea of dressing up was a clean sweatshirt.

"I love weddings," Josh replied. "As long as I’m not one of the major participants." He elbowed Pres in the ribs. "Hey, Pres, how does it feel to have a kid sister?"

I cringed. Of course Josh thought of me as another "kid sister," as he so delicately put it, but that wasn’t how I wanted Pres to think of me.

Pres put a hand on my shoulder. "If we can have a relationship that’s as good as yours and Celeste’s, we’ll do fine."

"Did I hear my name?" Celeste swirled over and curtsied, batting her eyes at Pres. I was still amazed at how Celeste could flirt outrageously with anyone. Even with Pres, who was like a second brother to her, since he spent half his life
at her house hanging out with Josh.

Before Pres could answer, Celeste hugged me. "You were great today. How did you manage to look so cool? I would have fainted halfway down the aisle." She fanned herself with her hand.

I laughed. "Celeste, you never lose your cool. Anyway, I just put myself in a trance and the next thing I knew I was standing here eating wedding cake with Pres." I turned and smiled at Pres, hoping to convey my innermost feelings. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips parted in a shy smile.

"Let’s finish our cake," Josh said, scraping his plate with his fork. "I think some serious dancing is about to start."

Mrs. Gluck struck a few chords on the piano, trying to quiet the room. For the first time I noticed that the Historical Society women were all dressed in the colonial costumes they would wear for Sandy Cove’s 350th Celebration.

A hush filled the room.

"All right," said Mrs. Gluck. "Clear a space for Mr. and Mrs. Nelsen."

Mr. and Mrs. Nelsen.
It dawned on me that I’d be the only one in the family whose last name was not Nelsen. Of course, I expected to fix that in a few years.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Gramma beaming. She looked so nice in her beige suit instead of the usual plaid flannel shirt and jeans. Small gray curls spilled out from under her wide-brimmed hat.

The newly married couple glided around the floor for a few minutes, and then it was my turn to dance with Mr.—I mean
Bill
. He was a slightly taller, mustached version of Pres. For weeks I’d practiced with Josh, who’d been sworn to secrecy, so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself on the dance floor. Though I’d had to put up with a lot of teasing and fooling around from Josh, the practice sessions had been worth it.

"Stand up straight, Rebecca," Bill whispered in my ear. "You must maintain good posture at all times."

Startled, I stifled a protest. I was sure my posture was fine. Bill was probably just nervous.

"Now," said Bill. "It’s time to switch partners again. When I count to three …." On the exact count of "three" he dashed off to dance with my grandmother.

At last it was my turn to dance with Pres. He was smiling nervously as I stepped into his arms. I wondered if I should rest my head on his shoulder. I figured it was a little too soon for that, and instead I savored the feel of his arm around my waist, my hand in his.

I struggled to think of a brilliant conversation starter, but all I came up with was, "Lovely reception, isn’t it?"

"Yes," said Pres. "You’re a good dancer, Rebecca. You make it easy for me."

"Thanks." I glowed. "I have to confess that I practiced."

"Really? Me too. I was afraid of looking like a jerk on the dance floor."

Woo
! We had something in common. "That’s just how
I
felt too …."

"Excuse me." Josh tapped Pres’s shoulder
, and with exaggerated politeness said, "May I take this lovely lady off your hands for a while?"

"Sure," said Pres. "And to make sure your sister doesn’t become a wallflower, I’ll dance with her."

I could have kicked Josh for cutting in.

"Did my dancing lessons help?" he asked.

He looked so concerned that I decided to forgive him. "What do
you
think?" I asked.

Josh pulled me close, resting his chin on my head
, as if he was testing my movements. "Pretty good, I’d say."

"The best dancer at Sandy Cove High is responsible."

"Whoa!" Josh grinned. "A compliment from one of the cutest sophomores in school."

I shook my head and sighed. Josh was always teasing me. With his good looks and friendly personality he attracted almost every girl at school. So I knew better than to take him seriously when he showered me with exaggerated compliments.

The music stopped. "What now?" Josh asked.

"Well, the dancing will start again in a minute."
I spotted Celeste and Pres at the punch bowl "But I’m dying of thirst. Let’s get some punch."

We worked our way through the crowd.

"Look who’s here." Celeste raised her cup of punch as if she was giving a toast. "Don’t our brothers look handsome in their wedding-day gear?"

I flashed a frozen smile at Celeste and whispered through gritted teeth, "I wish you’d stop promoting the one-big-happy-family image." Then I looked at Pres and said, "They look terrific."

"Thank you, fans." Josh bowed repeatedly. "Thank you."

Pres blushed.

"Attention, everyone. Attention," Mrs. Gluck shouted. "The bride and groom are about to depart on their honeymoon."

Pres and I rushed to say our goodbye to our parents.

"You were a beautiful bride," I said as I hugged Mom.

"Almost as gorgeous as my maid of honor," Mom said.

"Have fun on Cape Cod."

"I’ll certainly try."

We laughed, and hugged again.

"Congratulations, Dad." Pres shook hands with Bill.

"Thanks, Pres. Take care of things at home."

The next thing I knew, we were all standing on the steps of the Town Hall waving goodbye as Mom and Bill climbed into Bill’s
SUV. Pres and Josh had decorated it with balloons, streamers, and a hand-painted "Just Married" sign.

"Drive carefully!" Josh yelled.

As the car pulled out of the circular driveway I called out, "Have a good trip."

It felt kind of strange to see my mother going off on her honeymoon.

"Well, you two," Gramma said to me and Pres. "It’s time we all went home and changed our clothes, so Rebecca can load her things into the rental truck and start taking them over to the to the other house."

"I’m going to help." Josh loosened his tie.

"Me too," Celeste said.

"Great," said Gramma. "We should get her all settled in before dark."

I lifted the hem of my skirt so I wouldn’t trip going down the stairs. My heart fluttered. I was on my way to a new home, a new father ... and a new relationship with Pres.

Chapter Three

Shortly after I traded my bridesmaid's dress for jeans and a T-shirt, Josh and Celeste arrived at my house.

"Perfect timing," I said.
"I just finished changing."

"Changing?" Josh clutched his chest and stumbled back. "But I liked you just the way you were."

"You’re impossible."

"You must be referring to Josh," said Pres, who’d just stepped up on the front porch.

"Who else?" Celeste and I chimed.

When everything was loaded into the truck, I went back upstairs for one
final look. I stood in the middle of my empty bedroom—I’d really miss this place. But I was sure living with Pres and having a new father would make my new home as happy—if not happier—than the old one.

When we pulled into the driveway of Pres’s house, I hesitated a moment before getting out. The yellow 175-year-old house, with a pot of ivy hanging by the front door and daffodils flanking the stone steps, welcomed me.

It didn’t take long for us to unload the truck, reassemble my bed, and unroll the braided rugs, which Gramma had made, onto the smooth wide-plank floor.

Josh sat down in my cane rocker, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Whew. I’m
beat." He patted his stomach. "Starving, too."

"Ah, you must have smelled my grandmother’s spaghetti," I said.

"Spaghetti?" Josh asked innocently. "Someone had better check to see if she needs any help. Come on, Pres. Let’s go."

"Anything to get out of unpacking,"
Pres said. He and Josh hurried downstairs.

"Your room is as
nice as you said it was." Celeste spun around, her head tilted up to see the high ceiling, the peach blossoms on the freshly papered walls, the fancy woodwork around the windows. "And over there." She pointed to the corner alcove with three large windows that looked out on a magnolia tree. "That is the perfect spot to write the great American novel."

"Plays. I want to write plays."

"Whatever," said Celeste. "It’s still a great spot to write."

"Okay, okay." I laughed.

"When I become an architect I’ll design special theaters for your plays." Celeste flopped down on my bed.

"Don’t
relax yet." I grabbed her foot and shook it. "I’ve got all these boxes to unpack."

"Oh, all right. Rebecca, this is marked, ‘Important.’ What do you want me to do with it?" Celeste show
ed me a manila folder.

"Oh, that. Thanks, I’ll take it. This is a
printout of a play I’ve written for a magazine for elementary school kids. When they bought my one-act play for second graders they asked if I had something longer for fourth graders. I just have to proofread it again and it’ll be ready to send."

"Wow. That’s great. You didn’t tell me you were working on another play."

"I know. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just superstitious. I don’t like to talk about a project until it’s done."

By the time Celeste and I had put most of my stuff away, Josh appeared in the doorway. "Dinner is served," he announced.

"Great. I’m starving," I said.

In the kitchen Pres and Gramma scurried around setting the table.

I sniffed. "Smells delicious, Gramma. But something’s different."

"That’s Pres’s doing," Gramma
said. "He added a few spices of his own, wouldn’t tell me what, and fixed garlic bread. You know, I was wondering if I wouldn’t get bored cooking for a whole week while your folks are honeymooning, but Pres here is good in the kitchen. He said he’d be glad to take over. So all I have to do is make sure you two don’t burn the house done or something."

"Really,
Gramma?" I whispered so Pres couldn’t hear. "Pres likes to cook? You know I feel the same way about cooking as you do."

Except for her spaghetti and an occasional cookie-baking spree, we both considered cooking a necessary evil. Enjoying cooking would give Pres something in common with Mom. She loved to cook. It wouldn’t hurt for me to find my way around the kitchen either, not with Pres there to lead the way. I guess I could even learn to like garlic bread if Pres was the chef.

After dinner, Josh yawned and stretched. "Well, guys, I know it’s not polite to eat and run, but I need my beauty sleep."

"The way you look in the morning, you can’t call it beauty sleep," Celeste
said.

"I’m calling it a night too," Gramma
said. She blew a kiss as she went upstairs.