The Boyfriend App (13 page)

No
. My legs went rubbery. My insides pinched. Hard.

The Boyfriend App had made weird matches all over Harrison. But Carrie and Aidan? Was it malfunctioning? Carrie couldn’t be Aidan’s type. Could she?

Aidan glanced at me. The rosy color was gone from his cheeks, maybe because Carrie Sommers was one of the prettiest girls in our class, especially if you liked that bubbly, spirit-fingers kind of thing, which most Harrison guys did. But did Aidan?

Someone whistled. Carrie’s cheerleading cocaptain, Martha Lee, yelled, “Go, Carrie!”

Carrie threw back her shoulders and marched in our direction. I had the sudden urge to claw her face with my rabbit’s foot’s toenails.

Aidan was still looking at me. I stared back, waiting for him to do something—to tell Carrie
NO
. But he didn’t. And everyone was watching us. So I went into survival mode. “Wow,” I said, faking enthusiasm like Lindsay and I did at our cousin’s bridal shower while she unwrapped gifts like dish towels and salad spinners. “Go for it, Aidan.”

His dark brows narrowed. But what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t throw myself in front of Aidan and claim him as mine, like Blake did to me all those years ago. He wasn’t mine. I still wasn’t even sure what had happened yesterday by the water, or what it meant. Or if it meant anything at all.

Carrie stopped at our table. Her glittery silver eye shadow had spilled onto her cheek and made her look like a disco ball. “Hey, Aidan,” she said demurely. “I’m Carrie.” As if we all didn’t know. “Is this seat taken?” she asked, not-so-subtly tossing a smile to the rest of the lunchroom, like this was a sitcom and Harrison was her live audience.

My body was burning watching them.

Maybe Aidan’s shyness was acting up, but he didn’t speak, or couldn’t. He didn’t even move as Carrie leaned over our table with her freckled cleavage on display. She pushed her boobs together and smiled. When Aidan didn’t say anything, she glanced over her shoulder as the entire cafeteria stared.
“Pull out my chair,”
she whisper-hissed.

The color came back to Aidan’s cheeks. He looked at me again, like he was waiting for me to do something. But I felt frozen, so I just stupidly sat there. And then Aidan did like Carrie said.

Carrie took off her maroon cardigan and lowered herself slowly. Her cheerleading skirt was so short I found myself hoping she’d get an infection from the plastic seat. “Hi, Aidan,” she said, drawing out the words like they were original poetry.

“Hello,” he said.

Riveting.

Heat bubbled within me as Carrie nodded encouragingly. “Maybe we should go for a stroll since it’s warm out?” she suggested. She gave Aidan a meaningful, loaded look like the Bachelorette always does when she feels a connection.

Aidan looked at me.

“The Boyfriend App strikes again!” I chirped in my bridal-shower voice.

Lindsay turned to Carrie and said, “Audrey and I
so
hope this works out. Don’t we, Audrey?” She smiled at Carrie. “Feel free to chime in under THE BOYFRIEND APP USERS SOUND OFF section on
FBM
.”

I noticed my mom watching from the kitchen. She looked sort of worried, and I suddenly felt embarrassed that she was seeing all of this.

Carrie grabbed Aidan’s forearm. Her chin was sky-high as she strode through the cafeteria to encouraging catcalls.

I waited for Aidan to look at me again as they made their way through the glass doors. I battled a hard lump in my throat when he didn’t.

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HarperCollins Publishers

.....................................................................

chapter thirteen

“J
ust do it,” I said later that evening.

“Yeah. Just do it,” Carrie Sommers echoed.

“C’mon, Mindy,” Lindsay said. “It’s your turn to find love.”

Lindsay, Nigit, Mindy, and I sat next to Aidan and Carrie on the sidelines of Harrison’s varsity soccer game. I felt like I was drowning when Carrie’s eyes traveled over Aidan’s perfect face. His curls were black against the night sky, his skin translucent. He was so absorbed in Carrie, I wasn’t even sure if he knew I was there.

Floodlights illuminated the darkness, bathing the bleachers and the field in a golden glow. The smell of freshly cut grass mixed with Nigit’s caramel latte. Whistles blasted the air and Harrison students shouted the names of players (“Score, Briggs! Score!”). Guys decked in Harrison’s trademark maroon-and-yellow uniforms (think: McDonald’s) raced across the field kicking the ball like Neanderthals.

Maybe I liked to internet-stalk Xander’s lacrosse pics, but I hadn’t been to an actual live sporting event since Blake and I used to go to JV football games. Now I remembered why: The back of my legs were freezing through my jeans against the metal bleachers, I didn’t understand the rules of the game, I longed for alone time with Hector, and I was hungry because I had missed my mom’s ratatouille (and didn’t want to waste money on food from the snack bar). Not even the flexing quads of Briggs Lick made it worth it. But Lindsay convinced me this kind of socializing was key for keeping me in the public eye and building momentum for the BFA.

“Just press the OK button, Mindy,” Carrie said, smiling and nodding like a professional.

Mindy had filled out the Boyfriend App’s survey, and now she just needed to submit it. Her thumb hovered above the phone. She looked at me, unsure.

“Your dream guy might be right around the corner,” Carrie went on, like a commercial for her life. She glanced at Aidan. “Mine was.”

We were in public, so I smiled instead of puked. But it all felt like confirmation that I’d overreacted to what happened in the spot behind my apartment. If Aidan liked me, he wouldn’t go out with Carrie, no matter how gorgeous she was.

“Guys, if she doesn’t want to do it, she shouldn’t,” Aidan said. His jeans were just the right amount of broken in—they showed off the muscles in his legs without being too tight. I tried not to notice Carrie’s hand on them.

Nigit clapped Aidan on the back. “Love is in the air, man.” Then, to Mindy, he said, “You should do it.”

Lindsay sang the first verse of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight.”

Mindy still looked flustered, but she finally pressed OK. Then she showed me her phone’s screen, where the Boyfriend App’s shiny white icon and pink-studded heart floated among the other apps. I smiled at her. I still got a little buzz every time I saw its graphics. “I’m so glad you did it,” I said, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Me too, Min,” Carrie said.

Min?

On the field, a cheerleader did a Rockette kick, slipped, and fell into a puddle of mud.

“Pick yourself up, Martinez!” Carrie screamed. “We leave soccer to the JV cheerleaders,” she said to Aidan. I tried not to wonder if they’d hung out after school before the game—visions of Carrie chanting
A-I-D-A-N
in private made me want to flush myself down a toilet. I’d wanted him for so long. Carrie had gotten him in one afternoon. Why could some girls do it so easily, and I couldn’t? “Soccer is a lesser game than football,” Carrie said, hushing her voice like she didn’t want to offend anyone with this pearl of wisdom. Her chestnut-colored hair spilled over her snug-fitting green sweater. She’d curled the ends, and they rested happily on her nipples, which were obviously cold.

Aidan’s face was still ghostly pale. He was either coming down with the flu, or so enraptured by Carrie’s charm that he was forgetting to breathe. “How interesting,” he said.

“Friggin’ fascinating,” I said.

“There are so many hidden layers of cheer hierarchy,” Carrie said. “It’s a nuanced sport.”

Sport? Mindy texted me.

Barf
,
I texted back.

Then Carrie told us she’d wanted to date someone named Aidan ever since last year, when she watched all six seasons of
Sex and the City
while she was resting her broken toe.

I caught a glimpse of Blake in the parking lot with her mother. Blake’s mom had her hands on her hips while Blake gesticulated wildly. They looked like they were arguing. I smiled a little when I thought of the name Blake and I had made up for her in eighth grade: the Pirate Psycho, on account of her mood swings, the gold hoop earrings she wore, and the frosted blond hair that obscured one eye.

The Harrison goalie dove to save a goal and missed. Choked sobs sounded. I turned to see who’d taken the goal too seriously and saw Goth Girl hunched over, clutching her stomach. Wind caught her lace veil and lifted it to expose tears mixing with mascara, marking black rivulets over her cheeks. Ty Bennett descended the bleachers, shaking his head. Goth Girl hid her eyes with ten fingers covered in silver rings.

Cold air hit me like a slap.

“Uh-oh,” Lindsay said.

“Another one bites the dust, Audrey,” Nigit said. A cashmere scarf draped his sateen dinner jacket. His white-gloved hand held Lindsay’s. “You heard about Kara Neil and Pete DiGordiano?”

What I heard was a hint of satisfaction in Nigit’s voice. “Yeah, whatever,” I said, trying to sound like it was no big deal. After being matched by the BFA, Kara and Pete engaged in a very public make-out session, after which Kara declared Pete’s tongue a “roving fish with no direction” and ended it over text.

DING DING DONG DING.

Mercifully, the crowd’s focus shifted from Goth Girl’s despair to Annborg Alsvik. Annborg jumped to her feet on the tinny bleacher and held her phone high in the sky. “Boyfriend App! Boyfriend App! Boyfriend App!” she screamed.

Kevin Jacobsen, part-time pot dealer and full-time douche bag, was ascending the bleachers. His hands were tucked into his pockets. He moved and talked slowly, like Matthew McConaughey, but without the looks or southern drawl.

Please, don’t let them be matched.

“Kevin Jacobsen?” Annborg cried out. Her accent made it sound like
Kayveen Yacob-son
. “Me your match! Me over here!”

Kevin shaded his red-rimmed eyes and scanned the crowd. His gaze landed on Annborg jumping up and down. Her gauzy white scarf unraveled around her shoulders like a mummy doing a striptease.

Mindy elbowed me.

“Oh no,” Lindsay said beneath her breath.

The inevitable happened. The thing I should’ve predicted. The thing I should’ve prevented if only there were code that could.

Kevin started laughing. A high-pitched, pot-fueled laugh that built from a cackle into a riot. “Dude. No
way
,” he said.

Pink patches spread like hives across Annborg’s skin. She glanced around, like someone might help her. No one did.

My fists curled against my jeans. I should’ve seen it coming.

Programming is perpetually trying to solve riddles, fix problems, and squash bugs. Computer language is so hypersensitive to grammar that you have to get it exactly right or else you’ll run your program and all sorts of screwy things could happen because you missed a single parenthesis. But this was different. There were actual people involved now, with their live, beating hearts, and the kind of complicated emotions the app couldn’t account for. And then there was
me
. I’d thrown logic aside and played along like the Lindsay-and-Nigit-love-match phenomenon could sweep America. I’d let hope blind me and set me up to fall.

I was the bug in the system.

“I don’t feel so good,” I said to Mindy. “I’m gonna call it a night.”

She gave me a look that asked
Are you okay?
I nodded. She lifted up her car keys to let me know she could take me home.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “My mom can pick me up.”

“Audrey!” I turned to see Annborg making her way across the bleacher. A lock of blond hair fell loose from her side ponytail. She looked pissed.

Lindsay grabbed my arm. “Just deflect her questions. Use words like
actually
to change the subject, and don’t forget to—”

DING DING DONG DING.

Lindsay stopped midsentence. We both looked down into Mindy’s lap, where she clutched her buyPhone.

Boyfriend Alert: WOODY AMES. 8 YARDS SOUTH.

I lifted my gaze. Woody and Blake were stomping up the bleachers. Xander stood a few rows above, shading his eyes as he watched them climb.

Mindy’s eyes went wild with fear.
No,
she mouthed at me.
Please
.

I grabbed the phone. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I can deprogram—”

But it was too late. Annborg stood over us, cocking her head to read the graphic. “Woody Ames,” she read out loud.

“Annborg,
shut up
,” I said.

Woody’s arm was linked through Blake’s as he led her down the row of bleachers where Xander sat with the Martin sisters. Xander moved between Blake and Woody. He patted the seat next to him and gestured for Blake to sit.

Annborg stared at the three of them and smiled.

“Don’t say anything, Annborg,”
I hissed.

But Annborg chose that moment to forget how to speak English. She angled her phone at Blake, Woody, and Xander.

PING!
went the tone that signaled Annborg was recording video.

“Woody Ames!” Annborg screamed. Woody stared up at us. Blake looked up, too. She caught my glance, and her eyes turned into slits. “You matched with Mindy!” Annborg shouted to Woody, pointing at Mindy’s head.

A few people giggled.

Mindy’s olive skin suddenly looked green. She tried to duck behind me, but Annborg’s camera was in her face. Aidan realized what was going on, and put his hand over Annborg’s lens. But Annborg just backed up and started filming all of us.

Blake laughed. “Go get her, Woody,” she said, her voice soaked with sarcasm. She laughed harder, barely able to contain her hysteria.

My hand found Mindy’s and squeezed.

Woody looked at Mindy. “Me and Es-st-st-stupida?” he said. “Yah. Freaking. Right.”

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