Better Than the Movies Page 9

  “ ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ by Stevie Wonder?” he suggested.

  “Ooh—I like that.” I hummed the first bar before saying, “Or. The Rose Pigeons have a song called ‘He’s So Pretty, It Hurts My Eyes’ and it catalogues how sweet and amazing some dude is. So that’s totally the juxtaposition of you in the parking war, right?”

  “I did what I had to. All is fair in love and parking.”

  When he pulled up in front of the bookstore so I could get my car, I thanked him and grabbed my bags. He said he was going to text Michael and mention I was coming, and he also said he would throw in some good words about me. I wanted to help him craft the perfect adjectives, but I bit my tongue. I stepped out of his car, and just when I was about to slam the door, he said, “You should maybe straighten your hair for tonight.”

  “I’m sorry—it sounded like you just told me how I should wear my hair.” I knew that he was trying to help me win Michael, but did he realize that it made me feel like total shit when he acted like my style was a joke? I was 100 percent good with my fashion choices—I dressed for me and me only—but it still didn’t feel good to know that he didn’t like the way I looked.

  My hair was in a braid at that moment, and though it wasn’t particularly cool, it also wasn’t like I had hair down to my ankles that had never seen a brush, either. “Since that can’t be right, what did you actually say?”

  He held up a hand. “That came out wrong. All I meant was that instead of just changing up your clothes, you should give Michael the full-on hot-girl treatment. He still thinks of you as Little Liz, but if you show up looking like the kind of girl he’s dated since moving away, it might be a good start.”

  I still didn’t like it, but he had a point. “So what’s the plan for later?”

  “I’ll pick you up at fiveish.”

  “Okay.”

  “Wear the Chucks.”

  “You’re not the boss of me.” I said it with a teasing childish pout, but I was still confused as to why he’d bought me the shoes. Everything else that he’d hand-selected for my “new Liz” wardrobe, I’d paid for. So why had he gone to the trouble of paying for them while I’d been changing? Why had he paid for them at all?

  He put his big hands together as if praying. “Can you pretty please wear the Chucks?”

  “We’ll see.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “When I’m around you, I kind of feel like I’m on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case, I do them all the time. All of them.”

  —Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

  At four forty-five, I tied my Chucks—which, I had to admit, looked pretty cute with my whole sporty ensemble—and went downstairs. They were comfortable, and something about them made me kind of soft, but I wasn’t going to waste a minute trying to figure that out.

  My dad had taken my grandpa to the driving range, so it was quiet in the house. Helena was around somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where.

  The doorbell rang, and I couldn’t believe it. Wes was early?

  I walked over to the door, but when I pulled it open, it was Jocelyn, not Wes.

  “Oh. Hey.” I’m sure my face totally showed my shock at seeing her instead of Wes, and I tried hard not to look shook. “What’re you doing here?”

  Her mouth dropped open for a sec, and she looked me up and down. “Oh my God, who did this to you?”

  I glanced down at my clothes. “Um—”

  “I want to tongue-kiss them—you look incredible!”

  She walked through the front door, and my mind was racing as I shut the door behind her. I still hadn’t told her about the party, or the game, or Michael or Wes or any of the questionable things I was doing with my personal life. And Wes was going to be there any minute now.

  Shit.

  “Did you buy this when you were with Wes?” She was still smiling, so she wasn’t pissed at me.

  Yet.

  “Yeah—that jag actually found a couple of nice things.” My cheeks were hot and I felt like the guilt was all over my face. I was a garbage friend. “Go figure.”

  “Oh, hey, Joss.” Helena came out of the kitchen looking way cooler than me in jeans and a hockey jersey. “I thought I heard the door. Do you want a pop or something?”

  God, Wes would be there any second with his big mouth. No pop!

  “No, thanks—I only have a second. I’m on my way to get my little sister from soccer, but Liz won’t respond to my texts, so I had to stop by.”

  Crap.

  Helena smiled and said, “She’s the worst, right?”

  Jocelyn smiled at Helena but also leveled me with a look. “Right.”

  “I, um, I’m about to leave too.” I swallowed and hoped I could get her out of there quickly. “In five minutes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Helena had asked the question, but they both stood there, staring at me as I tried to come up with something.

  “Um, Wes from next door is going to the basketball game and he, um, asked if I want to go. I mean, it’s a casual, no-big-deal thing—I was just bored and it sounded less boring, y’know? I totally don’t want to go but I said I would. So.”

  Jocelyn’s eyebrows shot up. “You are going to a basketball game.” She said it like I’d just professed myself a triceratops. “With Wes. Bennett.”

  Helena crossed her arms over her chest. “Didn’t you call the parking police on him a few days ago?”

  “No, I, um, I said I almost did.” I spit out an awful fake laugh and shrugged. “Yeah, honestly, I have no idea why I said I’d go with him.”

  I knew exactly why.

  “Did Bennett make you buy those Chucks, too?” Jocelyn was staring at my shoes. “Because you hate those shoes.”

  It was true. I’d always thought Converse high-tops were ugly and utterly lacking in arch support. Now I had a weird affinity for them that made me question my own mental fortitude.

  “They were on clearance, so I said, ‘What the hell.’ ” Again with the terrible laugh. “Why not buy some Chucks, right?”

  Jocelyn did a little head shake, like she had no idea what she was witnessing.

  Same, girl. Same.

  “Well, person I used to know, I only swung by because my mom needs to know which day we’re going dress shopping next week.”

  Ironically, after I’d finally agreed earlier to go shopping with her, her mom had had to reschedule for a different day. Initially I was relieved to put it off longer, but now it felt like the universe just wanted to torture me. At this point, I kind of just hoped for a dress to be stuffed into my closet so I could stop hearing the phrase “dress shopping.”

  “Ooh—I love dress shopping.” Helena tilted her head and added, “I rarely wear them because sitting like a lady sucks, but every spring I want racks and racks of floral dresses.”

  “This is prom dress shopping.” Jocelyn was still looking at my clothes as she said, “Liz and I are going together, and my mom said she can take us dress hunting.”

  “Oh.” Helena blinked and glanced at me for a second, and I felt like a monster. She’d mentioned multiple times that she thought I should go to prom because I’d regret it if I didn’t, and she’d also mentioned multiple times that she could take me dress shopping and we could “make a whole day of it.”

  She’d thought it would be so fun.

  But that had been, like, a month ago, and I’d kind of forgotten.

  Kind of.

  My feelings about Helena doing the things my mom should’ve been there to do with me were tricky, and most of the time I just avoided them until they went away.

  Or until this happened.

  “Well, I’m sure that will be a blast.” Her eyes were sad, but she said, “Just don’t get anything too revealing, okay, guys?”

  Jocelyn grinned. “We’ll do our best, but no promises.”

  The doorbell rang—it had to be Wes this time, right?—and I felt nauseous as both of their eyes landed on me.


  I squeezed in between them and stepped toward the door. “That’s probably Wes.”

  I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and braced myself. What were the odds that Wes would keep his mouth shut and not sic Jocelyn and Helena on me with talk of our collusion?

  I pulled the door open. And tried to communicate the situation with only my eyes. I hoped they were saying Don’t make this worse, but it’s likely that I just looked twitchy. “Hey,” I said.

  Wes was smiling, but as he looked at me, his smile changed into a weird thing, like the smile of someone who’d just discovered something. It slid up into a wide grin, and he said, “You’re a good listener.”

  I slammed the door.

  “Um?” Joss pursed her lips and Helena furrowed her brows. “What’s the plan here?”

  Sighing, I opened the door again and held up a hand. “Don’t talk. Seriously. Can you just not say a word until we’re in your car? Or maybe, like, ever?”

  “Hi, Wes.” Helena gave him a little wave. “I take it you found Liz this morning?”

  He gave me a look that was the equivalent of a tongue stick-out and beamed at Helena. “I did—thank you. I don’t think Liz appreciated my presence at her workplace, but I got there just the same.”

  Jocelyn tilted her head. “So you went to her work to ask her to go with you to the game tonight?”

  “I did.”

  A casual observation: Wes had grown into a pretty attractive guy. I mean, I wasn’t personally attracted to him, but the faded T-shirt he was wearing showcased some well-defined biceps. Combine the muscles with his mischievous smile and heavy-lidded dark eyes, and he was pretty fine.

  Just not my type at all.

  “Liz?” Joss gave me a loaded look. “Can I see you in the bathroom for a minute?”

  Not a chance. “We really have to go, actually, but I’m sure—”

  “I’ll wait.” Wes came fully inside the foyer and swung his keys around his finger. “Take your time.”

  Jocelyn grabbed my elbow and pulled me all the way to the tiny bathroom that sat just past the kitchen. As soon as the door closed behind us, she said, “I thought Wes’s car was dead this morning.”

  “What?”

  She sighed. “You told me that he needed a ride to the mall because his car was dead. But Helena just said that he drove to Dick’s to find you.”

  Holy crap—Helena said that? Was I so distracted by Wes that I’d totally tuned them out? Craaaaap. I cleared my throat and said, “No, his car died at Dick’s.”

  “That’s not what you told me at the mall.”

  How was I supposed to remember what I told anyone anymore? Not only was lying an uncool thing to do, but it was also hard to keep on top of. “Yes, it is.”

  She sighed. “Whatever. The bottom line is that you are about to go on a date with Wes Bennett, girl.”

  “It’s really more—”

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “For someone super into love and shit, you’re kind of clueless. Now listen to me. Wes came to your house this morning, and when you weren’t here, he drove all the way to your work to ask you to go to the game with him when he knows you are clueless about sports.”

  Oh no—no, no, no. She was getting the wrong idea, and if she heard the rumor that I actually, you know, started at the party and hadn’t had the guts to tell her about yet, I was screwed. “Hey—”

  “You know it’s the truth. And then he pretended to need your shopping help. This is a date, Liz. A date.”

  I wanted to tell her what was really going on, but I was a coward. I knew she’d act like I was Michael’s obsessed stalker, and I just couldn’t hear it. I liked Wes’s description better, anyway; Michael was my long-lost love. I said, “It isn’t a date, but I agree that it has date potential.”

  Finally, something that wasn’t a lie. It did have date potential. Just not regarding Wes.

  “So do you want that?”

  If I’d referenced a certain boy in a way that was easily misconstrued, well, that wasn’t my fault, was it? I gave a shrug and said, “I don’t know. I mean, he’s gorgeous and fun sometimes, y’know?”

  “Well, yeah, of course I know—everyone loves Wes. I just thought you hated him.”

  Was that a thing? Did everyone love Wes? I mean, it’d seemed like the attendees of the keg party adored him, but it hadn’t occurred to me that it went beyond his social circle. I lived next door to him and we went to the same school. Was it possible he was loved universally without my ever knowing?

  I said, “Oh, I do. But hating him is fun sometimes. So.”

  That made her laugh and open the door. “I don’t get it, and we’re going to have to talk tomorrow about this new look of yours, but I just wanted to make sure you weren’t misleading our boy Wesley.”

  When we got back to the front door, Helena was making Wes laugh as she shared her take on the dating reality show that had had its finale the night before.

  “I mean, the woman actually said the words ‘I want a man who will put flower petals on my bed every single night if he thinks it makes me happy.’ If that isn’t a red flag, I don’t know what is.”

  “Because who would ever want that, right?” Wes gave Helena one of his best smiles. “Someone has to clean that stuff up.”

  “Thank you, Wes.” Helena threw up her arm in appreciation of his commiseration. “And wouldn’t you have to dust the petals off the bed before boarding, anyway? I mean, nobody needs flower petals sticking to their parts, am I right?”

  Wes said, “I know I don’t.”

  Joss lost it, and Wes was laughing; I mean, it was pretty funny. But Helena was purposely missing the point of the romantic statement. Yeah, it maybe was a little cheesy, but there was something to be said for making the grand gesture.

  My mom would have understood.

  “You ready to go, Buxbaum?” Wes turned his attention to me, and my face grew hot as his eyes did a trail over my hair and outfit. I hated the way my complexion always showed the world what I was feeling, and I desperately wished there was a way to turn down the heat on my cheeks.

  Alas, no such luck.

  “You definitely look ready for some hoops,” he said with an eyebrow raised, “but I’m still not sure you can pull it off.”

  “My vote is no.” Jocelyn leaned in and lowered her voice. “Care to make a wager, Bennett?”

  “You guys are hilarious. Ha, ha, ha—Liz knows nothing about sports.” I opened the front door. “Now, I’m going to go watch the team sprain some ankles. You coming or not, Wes?”

  “It’s break some ankles.” He gave Jocelyn and Helena a skeptical look that made them both chuckle as he said, “And I’m right behind you.”

  Helena said, “Don’t forget that your dad and I are going to the movies tonight and won’t be back until late.”

  “Okay.” I pulled the door closed behind us, stressing about whatever the hell Joss was thinking now, and said to Wes, “God, you need to chill with the charm, okay?”

  His eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

  “I had to let Joss think I might like you, so cool it. Those two are your target audience; they totally go for your boy-of-mischief vibe.” I gave him knock-it-off eyes and pointed at him as we approached his car. “So for the love of God turn it down, or they are going to be all over me to actually date you.”

  He opened the door for me and leaned his arms on the top of the window while I got in. “That would be the worst, right?”

  “The absolute worst.” He slammed the door, and I buckled my seat belt as he walked around the car. He got in and started the engine, and I couldn’t help but notice that he smelled really, really good. I couldn’t stop inhaling.

  “Is that soap or deodorant?”

  His big hand landed on the shifter, and his eyebrows crinkled when he looked over at me. “Pardon?”

  “You smell really good, but it isn’t your usual scent.”

  He didn’t put the car in drive but instead just looked at me. �
�My usual scent?”

  “Don’t act like I’m weird. Your normal cologne is kind of, like, piney, but tonight you smell more… I don’t know… spicy.” The image of him shirtless and putting on deodorant popped into my head, and I cleared my throat, sending it away.

  His voice was deep and kind of rumbly as he gave a throaty chuckle. “Holy shit, Liz Buxbaum knows my scent.”

  “Y’know what? Forget it.” I was glad he’d just put the car in gear and was pulling away from the curb, because if he looked at me, I was certain my cheeks were crimson. “You smell like ass.”

  That made him slide into a full-on laugh. “Spicy, piney ass, you mean.”

  “Hilarious.” I turned on his radio in hopes of a subject change.

  It seemed to work because he said, “I can’t believe you’re actually wearing the clothes.” He turned on his blinker and slowed for the corner. “I fully expected to see you in a grandma dress when I showed up.”

  “I spent money on them—of course I’m going to wear them.”

  He glanced over and looked directly at my outfit before returning his gaze to the road.

  What the hell? I toyed with one of the threads on my shredded jeans and wondered what he thought. Not that I was thirsty for a compliment from Wes Bennett—because I so wasn’t—but you couldn’t look directly at someone’s outfit and not comment on said outfit, right?

  It was totally disconcerting. Did it not look good?

  I scratched at the crisscrossing shreds and said, “I suppose I owe you a thank-you. Not for trying to make me over, you asswad, but—”

  “Still not over that, I see.”

  “Because I like this outfit. I never would’ve noticed it on the rack, but I like it.”

  “See? I’m good—”

  “Nope.” I leaned forward and started scanning radio stations. “That’s all the props you’re getting from me today. Unless you want me to spew like your blond friend.”

  “No, thanks.”

  I glanced into his empty back seat. “Where are ‘the guys’?”