Celeb Crush (3 page)

I live in a decent apartment complex twenty minutes from campus.  With what Luke is (over) paying me, I could afford better, but I’m saving my money for the business I’m eventually going to start.  I’m not too clear on what kind of business I want to own but I figure by the time I graduate, I’ll have developed a more concrete plan.

My one bedroom apartment suits me just fine.  The complex is cheaply made, but well-maintained.  I live on the third floor and I have a good-sized balcony where I used to sit outside and do my homework—until the neighbor across from me decided to take a smoke break whenever I went out there.  And he’d talk to me.  And talk.  And hit on me.  Once, when I was trying to study for an exam—and he would not shut the hell up and leave—I got so frustrated that I threw my calculator at him.  I did not know he was a bleeder.  I don’t go out there anymore, and neither does he.  It’s kind of a shame, but what can you do?

Anyway.  Guess what I’m doing this summer?  That’s right:  I’m going on vacation at a private island in the Caribbean!  Luke will probably make me swim with sharks (again) and juggle fire—but I don’t even care.  I’m going to embrace new experiences this summer.  I’m also going to be a nicer person.  This summer will be the renaissance of Anderson Kelly.

I change into comfortable clothes and lug my food basket over to my bed.  The movie is already rolling on my laptop.  Oh, shoot.  I suddenly remember that I turned my phone off before I took my final.  I switch it back on and notice that I have a missed call from Oregon, and a text from Luke.  I ignore the missed call and open the text.

Hey, good news.  Eyan and Rob are joining us for the summer.  Call u later with the details.

I frown down at my phone.  I only met Luke’s co-stars from the Soul series a couple of times, and they seem pretty cool.  The trouble is, whenever Luke is around his Hollywood friends, he becomes subtly different.  Like he’s always “on,” always that charming and exciting guy that the public knows and loves.  When it’s just him, Nate, and me he’s much more chill, and not afraid to show his goofy side.  He can veg out for hours with us watching movies on the couch, or playing stupid video games.  But when he’s with those guys—he’s still himself, but he can’t fully relax.  I guess there’s a lot of pressure to maintain a glamourous image when all eyes are on you.  It’s one of the reasons I’ve always refused to attend industry functions with Luke.  I’m doing him a favor—I could ruin his career just by opening my mouth.  I’m…not the nicest person.  Hence, the renaissance of—

Who the hell is knocking on my door?!

I never get visitors.  I hate visitors, especially when I’m trying to relax.  I glance down at myself to make sure I’m presentable.  The worn shorts and t-shirt I’m wearing have no obvious holes or stains on them, and that’s as good as it’s gonna get.  I roll off my bed and trudge reluctantly to the door.

I accidentally throw it open with too much force; then when I see who’s standing there, I immediately slam it shut.

It’s Bran, my ex-boyfriend. 

Are you kidding me?

A timid knock sounds at my door.  Taking a deep breath, I open it a few inches, wedging my body in the crack, and glare at him.  He’s even thinner than before but he still looks skater boy good, with his messy brown hair and friendly blue-gray eyes.  I just now notice that he’s on crutches, and there’s a clunky cast on his right leg.

“Hey, Andi,” he says finally, nervous with my continued hostile silence.  “I’m sorry to drop in on you out of the blue like this.  I tried calling, but…”

He trails off, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while expertly balancing his weight on the crutches.  A sigh leaks out of me.  This is not what I wanted to do today or…ever.

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, cheeks flushing.  “Is it—can I come in?  I really need to talk to you.”

I give him in an unenthusiastic look, but I stand to the side and wave him in.  I look around outside before shutting the door.  “Did you come alone?” I ask suspiciously.

“Yeah, it’s just me.”

“How did you get all the way here with that cast on?  Did you drive?”

He chuckles.  “Yeah, and it wasn’t easy.”

I eye him warily as he studies my glaringly empty apartment.  I have no furniture in the living room, or in my little dining alcove.  I have the table and chair out on the balcony.  I have an office chair in my room, but Deadeye Jones—my sock monkey and longtime bedmate—is occupying it at the moment.

“Nice place,” Bran lies, taking in all the nothing.

I feel like he thinks I’m pathetic because having no furniture equals to having no life.  Suddenly, I can’t stand for him to be in my apartment, judging me.

“I don’t really have anywhere for us to sit,” I say.  “Why don’t we go somewhere else?  There’s a coffee shop just around the corner; we could talk there.”

“Okay,” he instantly agrees, looking relieved.  He probably thinks I’m less likely to do anything violent in public.  He’s right.

No, I can’t trip him going down the stairs.  I can’t.  I mean I could, but I won’t.  I watch him skillfully navigate the steps, but then I have to walk away to avoid temptation.  I can’t believe how he still looks the same.  Two years isn’t actually all that long, but…I don’t know.  It’s weird to see him looking almost just how I remember him.  He should have grown a bushy beard and a beer belly.

The polite thing to do would be to offer to drive him to the coffee place, but I’m not polite.  If he can drive from Eugene to here with a broken leg, he can make it a block.  I’m annoyed to see that he’s still got his blue Civic.  He’s had that heap since high school.  It doesn’t look any worse for wear, but then Bran’s always taken good care of his possessions.  Just not his girlfriends.

I realize my mistake when I pull into the crowded parking lot of Sweet’s Coffeehouse.  A car parked in the front magically pulls out for my ex, but I have to circle the area like a shark waiting for a spot to open up.

Bran is standing on the sidewalk in front of Sweet’s, patiently waiting for me.  I stride up to him, my arms crossed in a defensive posture.  I swiftly survey the area.  The indoor and outdoor seating areas are full of happy chatty people.

“Let’s sit over there,” I say, gesturing to a brick planter to the side of the building.  There’s no one nearby, and it’s shaded by fat green bushes.  “I’ll get our orders.  You want the usual?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how familiar I’m being, like we’re still a couple.  “Whatever that is,” I amend, angrily pushing back a lock of hair that escaped my bun.

I can tell Bran notices my slip but pretends not to.  “Iced caramel, like always,” he says with a gentle smile.  Then he fumbles in his shorts pockets for something.  “I have cash on me, somewhere.”

“I got it,” I snap.

I’m glad for the interminably long line inside.  It gives me time to sort my emotions.  I’m still furious!  It’s like his betrayal happened just yesterday.  I find myself reliving that moment when I walked into the bedroom I shared with Bran, and discovered him and Megan having frantic sex on
my
bed.

My hands clench into fists at the memories.  I don’t know if I can do this.  I don’t think I can sit down with him and have a civilized conversation without wanting to punch him in his skater boy face.  Two years is a long time to hold on to a grudge, I try to tell myself.

I want to text Luke and Nate to ask for their advice, but then I come to my senses.  They would give me
boy
advice, which would be to punch him in the face.  The only other person I text on a regular basis is my little cousin, Talon.  And he likes Bran, so he may or may not advise me to punch him in the face.  He’s a nine year old boy, and a big fan of violence.

By the time I’ve placed and collected my order, I’ve calmed down a bit.  I’m going to be cool about this, because to be anything else would mean I still care.  I don’t, but I have this insatiable thirst for revenge.  Just in case, I get a soda instead of my usual hot chocolate.  Don’t want the temptation of a hot beverage just begging to be dumped onto someone’s crotch.

“Thanks, Andi,” Bran says gratefully when I thrust his drink at him.

I keep a respectable distance between us.  It annoys me that my body remembers him and wants to occupy the space right next to him, simply out of habit.  I am by no means a touchy person, but Bran is, and he sort of got me used to having his warmth close by.

“How did you know where I live?” I blurt out while he’s taking a sip of his drink.

Bran chokes a little.  He coughs and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before answering me.  “Uh, Susan told me.  I hope that’s okay.  I—uh, how have you been?”

“Fine.”  Huh, if he’s still talking to Aunt Susan, then I guess he’s still with Megan.  “How did you break your leg?  Another skateboarding accident?”

He laughs sheepishly, running a hand through his messy hair.  “Yeah.  You’d think I’d learn by now that I’m no good at it…”

“If only they could teach common sense,” I mutter philosophically.

“Andi.”  Bran tries to look me in the eye, but fails.  “Before I tell you what I came here to tell you, I just want to tell you how sorry I am about everything.  I never got to apologize.  Megan and I—we still feel so bad about it.  That time you walked in on us?  That was the first time we were ever together, I swear it.  I mean, we had feelings for each other for a while…but that was the first time we ever did anything about it.”

He says this all in a rush, breathing caramel and guilt directly in my face.  “Why couldn’t you losers just tell me?” I blurt out.  “If you both came to me about how you felt—instead of doing it all over my damn bed—I probably would have…had a better reaction.”

“We were afraid to.”  Bran stares down at his hands.  “We tried so hard not to like each other.”

I mentally kick myself.  “Okay, whatever.  That was two years ago, and I’ve definitely moved on.  What did you want to talk to me about?”

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself.  He looks up at me, apprehension evident in his misty eyes.  “We’re getting married in a month—and Meg wants you to be her maid of honor,” he says all in a jumble.

I laugh incredulously.  But when I see he’s serious, I’m pissed all over again!  I jump up and march off.  Then I turn back.  I grab the crutches that are resting next to Bran, and toss them several feet away.  Now I can leave.

I’m almost to my car before I reluctantly slow to a stop.  I drag feet back to Bran, who’s still sitting there with a look of shock on his stupid face.  I force myself to retrieve his crutches and restore them back to their former place.  And though my ass and the brick planter feel like repelling magnets, I resume my seat.

“You must be out of your damn mind,” I say.

Bran shifts uncomfortably.  “Hear me out first, okay?  I know it’s completely shitty of me to ask this of you but it’s for Megan, and I have to try.  When was the last time you saw Susan?”

I blink at the sudden change of subject.  “I call her every week,” I say defensively.  “It’s hard to visit when I have work and school.”

“Oh, I know,” he says quickly.  “That’s not what I…uh…well…I don’t know if you know this, but after that last bout of pneumonia, she hasn’t been doing so well.”

“What do you mean?”  I glare at him.  “She told me she’s feeling much better since she started the injections.”

Bran compresses his lips.  He shakes his head and looks away.  “The pneumonia really took a lot out of her.  The doctors said that—she’s been very weak lately.  And…it’s not looking too good.”

I sit there in silence.  I should be expecting this.  When my aunt was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer last year, I looked up the statistics and survival rates.  The results were pretty grim. But Aunt Susan is young and strong, and so positive.  She still sounds like her old self, and every time I ask, she tells me she’s doing great.  Has she been lying to me all this time?

“Why didn’t someone tell me?” I ask angrily, feeling like a dumbass.  Uncle Charlie or Ellen—someone should have called me.

“She didn’t want to worry you,” Bran answers, sounding miserable.  “You know how she is.  Meg—she’s torn up about it.  That’s why we’re doing this in such a rush.  I mean, we were going to get married eventually because…”

I nod distractedly.  Megan and her mom were each other’s best friends.  Of course she’d want her mom to be there for one of the most important days of her life.

“It would make Susan so happy if you and Megan made up,” Bran is saying.  He almost reaches for me, but smartly comes to his senses.  “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but considering the—”

“Of course I’ll do it for Susan,” I snap.  “When and where is the wedding?”

His whole body seems to sigh in relief.  “Thank you, Andi!  You don’t know how much this means—not just to Susan, but to me and Megan—”

“Blah, blah, blah!  Just give me the details already!”

Bran suddenly looks apprehensive again.  “There’s something else I need to tell you,” he says softly.

Oh, great.   Now what?  “Now what?” I say out loud.

“Megan is pregnant,” he says quickly.  Before I can digest this new bit of info, he hurries on.  “She’s having a really hard time—constantly sick, and the doctor keeps warning her that she’s gonna put her on bed rest if she doesn’t slow down.  She’s been doing too much, and getting so stressed with everything that’s been going on.  She can’t go running around and planning the wedding like she wants to.  But it's coming up in a month so we’re really on a time crunch.  So…”