Lauren's Beach Crush (4 page)

Lauren pointed places out as they made their way toward the end of the street, where they could see fancy sailing boats docked at the pier. “That's a really good book store,” said Lauren. “And this is a fun place to get cool jewelry and funky hair stuff, and that store across the street has awesome clothes that aren't too expensive.”

“I love all the outside restaurants,” said Chrissy, marveling.

“Yeah, we'll probably go to a few of them. Oh, and there. That's Rudy's, the ice cream place I told you about. The place where I had the Conversation.” They stopped and peered inside. The place was packed with customers.

“Let's walk all the way down, okay?” asked Lauren, as she gestured down the street toward the ocean.

It was a short walk to the end of Main Street, and then a right turn, which took them past the harbor, parallel to the ocean. About a quarter of a mile down the narrow lane lined with tall sea grasses, Lauren turned left onto a sandy pathway, which quickly changed to a weather-beaten boardwalk. Three steps up, and they emerged on the beach.

Chrissy gasped. “Wow! It's amazing.” She stood and stared, the wind whipping her hair around her face.

Lauren was secretly thrilled at Chrissy's enthusiasm because she had a hard time taking charge. “You need to assert yourself!” her dad often told her. Easier said than done. She didn't like to stick out. It was always just easier to go with the flow or stay in the background. If Olivia wanted to go to the mall, or Padma suggested ice-skating, or Jessica wanted to go see a movie, Lauren always just agreed. She always ended up having a good time. The beach was her special place, though, and she really wanted Chrissy to think it was special too.

The beach was wide and long, with soft, white, sand and rolling waves that swelled and broke, gently lapping the wide shoreline. Despite the fact that it was late in the afternoon, there were still quite a few people lounging
there, mostly teenagers, and a few families with small kids. Down the beach, Lauren could see a group of boys playing Frisbee.

“This is where I usually hang out,” said Lauren. “I like to—” She froze and clutched Chrissy's arm.

“Lauren! What is it!” said Chrissy, alarmed. “Do you have a stomachache?” Then Chrissy followed Lauren's gaze. Lauren was staring at the boys playing Frisbee.

Lauren could barely speak. “It's him,” she whispered. “Don't look. Don't look. Okay, now! Look! Do you see him? Wait, turn, turn. Did he see us?”

“Which one is he?” asked Chrissy, trying to look out of the corner of her eye.

“He has a red bathing suit on. The tall one with the shaggy blond hair. Why didn't I brush my hair before we left? Does this T-shirt look okay?” Lauren could feel her heart thumping in her chest like a big bass drum. She darted another look. He must have grown six inches since last summer. She wouldn't have thought it possible, but Charlie had gotten even better looking over the past year!

“You look gorgeous,” said Chrissy loyally. “Your hair is all wind-swept but looks perfect, like a model.
And that T-shirt is super cute.” She looked down the beach again. “He is definitely a hottie,” she confirmed. “Who are the other guys?”

“I think his best friend is Frank something-or-other,” said Lauren, trying to pull herself together and not sound so out of breath. “I forget the other ones, but I've seen a few of them over the past couple of summers. I'm pretty sure at least two are cousins of Charlie's. Do you have any lip gloss?”

Chrissy dug through her small canvas purse but came up empty handed. “Let's walk,” she suggested, pulling Lauren onto the sand and turning in the direction of the boys.

Lauren's eyes widened. “We can't! We can't just walk right past them! Can we?” This was definitely not part of the Plan.

“Sure, why not?” said Chrissy encouragingly. “We can pretend we're collecting shells.”

“Oh, okay,” said Lauren weakly. “But this was so not a part of the Plan! I have it all figured out. On a card back at the house. It's a flowchart.” As soon as she'd said it, she realized how dumb it must sound to Chrissy, but Chrissy seemed unfazed by Lauren's fussing.

“We'll be spontaneous,” laughed Chrissy. “Come on. I see a pretty shell.”

She picked it up and showed it to Lauren. Lauren panicked. Chrissy was not understanding the importance of the Plan. If they didn't follow the Plan it would all be chaos . . . and then what? But, still. It was a walk on the beach. And Chrissy really wanted to go . . .

“Okay,” agreed Lauren. “I'll act natural. I can do this. I just took a quiz about it, and I'm totally great at acting natural.”

“A quiz?”

“Yep. In
Chic Chick
magazine. ‘What's Your Flirting Style?' I didn't know if I was a Super Flirt, Just Fun, or Totally Chill. I am so totally awkward when I'm around guys, I figured I should find that out. Turns out, I'm Totally Chill, and a master at acting natural. So that's how I will act.”

“Oh please,” Chrissy said, rolling her eyes good naturedly. “Just act like yourself! My sister always tells me to act like myself around boys. She's had a lot of really cute boyfriends, so she totally knows what she's talking about.”

Lauren gave a laugh. “Yeah, right. Myself. As if. Come on. Let's walk.”

The two of them took off their flip-flops and walked along the smooth, shiny sand, their bare feet making perfect impressions as they walked. Their footprints quickly filled with swirling, foamy surf that roiled around the soles of their feet, tickling them.

As they moved past the boys, Lauren didn't know where to look. Her heart was beating so hard that she thought it would jump out of her chest. Or that Chrissy would hear it.

She started getting hot. Should she act like she didn't know they were there? Look up? Keep looking down and pretending to search for shells? Where was the plan for how to walk past your Huge Crush? That was it, there was no plan. She almost ran back the way they came. Without a plan, she didn't know what to do.

She was looking down, so she should have seen the hole in the sand, but she tripped anyway.
Oh great,
she thought.
Way to go.

“Ooops!” said Chrissy, holding out an arm to steady her.

Lauren glanced over at the boys. They were probably totally laughing at her. But no one was even looking in their direction. They were way too immersed in their game of Frisbee, which was clearly more than just a game
of toss-and-catch. It seemed to have elaborate rules, defenders, team play. She'd been studying how to play in the book she'd ordered, since she knew Charlie loved Frisbee, but because she was so nervous, she couldn't remember a single thing about it. What if the Frisbee landed right at her feet and she had to toss it back and it went backward into the ocean or something? She prayed it wouldn't land in front of her. But also secretly kind of hoped it would.

They kept walking and passed by. Lauren glanced at Chrissy, who met her gaze and shrugged. “Guess they were really into their game,” Chrissy said.

“He doesn't even know I'm alive,” moaned Lauren softly. “He didn't even say hi to me. Didn't so much as look at me.”

Chrissy patted her friend on the shoulder. “Don't worry. We'll fix that. We'll—”

“Hey! Wait up!” called a male voice behind them.

LAUREN FROZE. CHARLIE. CHARLIE ANDERSON WAS
calling after her. She and Chrissy stopped. Then slowly, oh-so-casually—or at least she hoped, since she read in
Chic Chick
that acting casual was best—Lauren turned around toward Charlie.

But it wasn't Charlie. It was that other guy, Charlie's friend.

Frank.

“Hey, what's up?” called Chrissy.

Lauren wished she could be as natural as Chrissy, who seemed to be a true master at acting casual. Lauren felt so disappointed that she could barely keep her expression normal.

Frank had trotted up the beach in their direction. He was actually pretty cute, too. Not anywhere close to being in Charlie's bracket, but cute in a skinny, dark-haired,
dark-eyed kind of way. His hair was kind of shaggy like Charlie's, though his was more curly and definitely wasn't sun-bleached like Charlie's. His bathing suit was all wrong, though. It was a faded blue, and so long it practically billowed around his knobby knees. Probably a hand-me-down from an older brother, Lauren decided.

“Do either of you guys have a Band-Aid?” he asked. “My friend just stepped on a sharp shell or something and cut his toe.”

Lauren looked past Frank and drew in a quick breath. The other boys had stopped playing and were huddled around Charlie, who was standing on one leg like an adorable flamingo, one foot raised in the air, his hands on the shoulders of two of the other guys for balance. Charlie was hurt!

“I think I've got one,” said Chrissy, rummaging around again through her small purse. She pulled out a rumpled Band-Aid and held it up triumphantly. “Here you go!”

How could Chrissy remain so calm under these circumstances? “Is Char—is your friend hurt badly?” Lauren stammered.

“Nah, he's fine,” said Frank. “Just a little cut. But we want to get on with the game. My team is totally creaming them.”

“Here, we'll help,” said Chrissy, giving Lauren a look that said
pull yourself together and start participating!

So Lauren pulled herself together and followed Chrissy right into the midst of the group of boys. She hoped she wouldn't suddenly, spontaneously trip again and fall flat on her face or something.

“I'm Frank,” said Frank as they reached Charlie and his friends. “This is Charlie, Owen, Cody, Grant, Matt B. and Matt M.”

Chrissy looked to Lauren to say something, but Lauren remained silent. Frozen. She couldn't say a word. Silently she blamed Chrissy. If they had followed the Plan she would have known exactly what to do and say.

“I'm Chrissy, and this is Lauren,” Chrissy said, smiling encouragingly at Lauren and giving her another Look.

Chrissy was so natural, so calm. Lauren could barely look at the boys, let alone talk so easily to them.

“Show Chrissy your toe, Charlie,” directed Frank. “She has a Band-Aid for you.”

Charlie raised his foot higher and grinned that heart-breaking, sideways grin that Lauren loved so much. But he was grinning at Chrissy, not her. Why couldn't she have thought to carry Band-Aids with her?

“Let me prop my foot on you, Barnes,” Charlie said to Matt B. Obligingly, Matt knelt down and allowed Charlie to prop his foot on Matt's knee for Chrissy's inspection.

Chrissy glanced at Lauren, silently asking,
What should I do?,
and then after an awkward moment, stooped down and examined Charlie's toe. Lauren could see a bit of red on it—it was bleeding slightly. She watched as Chrissy pulled a tissue from her bag and began dusting the sand from Charlie's foot, gently dabbing at the tiny cut. How Lauren wished she'd had a Band-Aid on her! How she wished those were her hands, gently brushing the sand from his wound.

“Ow! Not so hard!” howled Charlie.

Lauren giggled, then clamped a hand to her mouth. She couldn't have Charlie thinking she was laughing at him, though it was kind of funny that he was making such a big deal out of such a tiny cut. She always seemed to giggle at the worst times.

“Hold still,” said Chrissy bossily, slapping him playfully on the shin as she peeled the paper from the Band-Aid and applied it carefully to Charlie's toe. “I think you're going to live. There. Done.”

“Thanks,” said Charlie, unpropping his foot from Matt. B.'s knee.

“Nice to meet you guys,” said Frank, as Owen picked up the Frisbee and made a motion to get the game going again.

Lauren knew she had to say something. “Nice to meet you, too!” she said, too quickly. “Well . . . see you around!” Why did she have to be so awkward around these guys? See you around? That was brilliant conversation.

“See you on the beach!” Chrissy said, and waved good-bye with a smile.

Lauren and Chrissy turned and headed away in the direction they'd come. There was another path leading off the beach just a short way down.

As soon as they were far enough away from the boys to be out of earshot, Lauren let out a long, breathy sigh. “Isn't he gorgeous, Chrissy? Did you see how awesome he was?”

“Yeah, he's definitely good looking,” agreed Chrissy.

“No, really. Is he not the cutest guy on the Eastern Seaboard?”

“Yes. Yes, he is,” said Chrissy patiently. “I'll grant you that, since Justin is on the West Coast! I was trying to
figure out a way to give you the Band-Aid, so you could put it on him, but it seemed too awkward.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for thinking about that. What about his friends? Did you think any of them were cute? Like Frank? He's pretty cute, right? Kind of skinny, but whatever. Or what's his name, one of the Matts? Wouldn't it be amazing if you started going out with one of Charlie's friends and we could, like, go out on double dates?”

“Yeah, no. I doubt it,” said Chrissy, shaking her head. “Justin, remember? My adorable crush from back home?”

“Right!” said Lauren. “I know.” Then she thought about it. “It would just be good if you liked one of the boys so we could be together, like a foursome. Plus Frank is kind of cute.”

“I guess Frank kind of looks like Justin,” Chrissy said finally. “If you squint a little.”

“Perfect! Just think. You could switch your crush to Frank, just for the next few weeks. We could play beach volleyball together, couples-style. We could hang out at the snack bar—this beach has an awesome snack bar, but it's back the other direction so I'll show you tomorrow—and we could maybe go for ice cream at Rudy's, and there's this way-fun Fourth of July barbecue at the Beach
Club that the whole town is invited to and we could go together, the four of us!”