The Boyfriend Thief (11 page)

After he had finished, he bounded offstage with a high leap, high-fiving people as he made his way back to me. His face was lit with excitement and he looked as if he were in his natural element. His eyes sparkled and my stomach felt as if it turned a thousand somersaults in my abdomen when he smiled at me.

“What’d you think?” he asked.

“You were amazing,” I told him. “Best comedy show I’ve ever seen.”

He laughed. “Only comedy show you’ve ever seen.”

“Because I’ve never found one worth seeing before.”

He nodded toward the door. “Ready to go? I could use a big slushie right about now.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” I tried to push myself up from the bean bag, but couldn’t get myself steady to get leverage. After two unsuccessful attempts, I raised my hands up toward Zac and said, “Help.”

“Avery James is asking for help?” Zac pretended to look shocked. “I thought Avery James could take care of herself and never needed anyone’s help with anything.”

I swatted at his leg then grabbed his hands and pulled myself to my feet. “I only needed a little leverage getting out of that ridiculous bean bag. I don’t know who decided to call that torture device a chair.”

When I stood, we were so close my nose was only inches from Zac’s chin. He had a fine bit of dark stubble along his cheeks and a tiny scar on the underside of his chin. The scent of his musky deodorant filled my nose. His hands still gripped mine, fingers entwined as we stood there, our eyes locked as if neither of us could look away.

It was the applause greeting the next performer that finally shook me from the trance Zac’s eyes had me in. I stepped back, wrenching my hands from his. I was a boyfriend thief, I reminded myself. A boyfriend thief couldn’t get personally attached to her work. It was a business agreement and nothing more. I wasn’t that girl who fell for a guy that was absolutely, completely wrong for her and who had come along at exactly the absolute wrong time. I couldn’t afford distractions at this point in my life.

And Zac Greeley had distraction written all over him.

“The trick is to get the right ratio,” Zac said as he pulled on the lever for the cherry flavored slushie. He filled the paper cup a third of the way, then moved on to the lime dispenser. “Too much of one flavor ruins it all.”

After we had left the Rose Castle, Zac had insisted on stopping at the Gas ‘N Drive for his famous cherry-lime-grape slushies. “It’s an after show tradition,” he had told me. It had to come from the Gas ‘N Drive on Miller Street six blocks away, not one of the stores closer to the diner.

“The other stores don’t have the right dispenser,” Zac said as he added grape to the mess in his cup. He looked into the mixture, swirled it around, and then added a tiny bit more. “They give too much slushie all at once and it ruins the concoction.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to clean up the dripping slushie that remained on each tap. Zac didn’t even seem to notice the cherry-lime-grape mess he was making on the counter.

We were the only people in the silent store, other than the sleepy cashier leaning over the front counter, his elbow resting on the edge of the register and his chin propped up in his hand. He had barely opened his eyes at us when we entered, just gave a quick wave to Zac when he led me toward the back.

When he’d stirred the drink until he was satisfied with the consistency, Zac handed the cup over to me with a smile like he’d given me the secret to immortality.

I looked into the purple-black disaster inside the cup. “Um, no thanks.”

Zac shook his head when I tried to hand it back to him and grabbed another cup from the stack to begin the process all over again. “That one’s for you. Specially made. My treat.” He stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he focused on repeating the right mixture for his own drink.

I held the cup in front of me, afraid to take a sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything from a gas station before. Other than the bottled drinks and bags of chips, I mean. I didn’t even know there was a food area back here.”

Zac’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Some days I exist solely on Gas ‘N Drive’s corn dogs and nachos. I mean, the corn dogs here aren’t Diggity Dog corn dogs, but they’re good when it’s two A.M. and you have a mad corn dog craving.”

I swished the half-frozen liquid around in my cup. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a mad corn dog craving either.”

“Sometimes I’m not sure you’re human, Avery James.” He finished creating his own slushie and I followed him to the front of the store. The cashier blinked at us, yawning wide, as we approached.

“Hey, man,” he greeted Zac, pushing himself upright to key in our purchases.

“Hey, Jake.” Zac nodded to me. “Do you know Avery?”

The cashier, Jake, studied me for a moment through half-closed lids, then shook his head. “Nah, don’t think so. I remember everyone that comes through during the night shift.”

“I’m usually asleep during the night shift,” I told him.

“I’m disturbing her beauty rest,” Zac said with a mischievous grin. “Introducing her to the wild world of midnight slushies.”

Jake laughed as he handed back Zac’s change. “Don’t corrupt her too much, Greeley. Later, guys.”

We headed outside to my car, but when Zac reached for the door handle I hit the lock button on my keychain. He stopped and looked back to where I still stood on the sidewalk next to the store.

“No eating or drinking in my car,” I said. “Rule number one, remember?”

“You have plastic on your seats. I don’t think it will hurt anything if I spill some.”

I shook my head. “No slushies in the car.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “So you want to stand here in the dark and drink them?”

The gas station’s parking lot was brightly lit, but beyond that, the rest of the world was dark and shadowy. Anything could be hiding out there behind the bushes, watching us, waiting to mug two idiot teenagers standing around in a parking lot drinking slushies at almost two in the morning.

“All right,” I relented. “We’ll get in the car. But we’re not going anywhere until the drinks are gone. And if you spill even one drop, you’ll be sorry.”

To his credit, Zac was careful getting into the car instead of tumbling in like he usually did. I turned the ignition far enough that the radio came on so we could listen to Hallow Flux while we sat.

“All right,” Zac said, grinning at me. “Ready to experience flavor beyond all comprehension? Ready to enter a world of cherry and lime and grape so magnified your head will explode?”

“Ready for an obscene sugar rush?” I asked, wrinkling my nose at the cup in my hand.

“On the count of three.” Zac held up his fingers. “One...Two...Three! Drink!”

We raised our cups at the same time, but while Zac gulped his down, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly, I took only a small mouthful. The frozen drink sent chills through my teeth and down my throat while the sugar tingled on my tongue.

But it wasn’t bad. There was something to Zac’s theory about the right ratio of cherry to lime to grape after all. At the very least, the cold liquid was a welcome relief to the warm night.

Zac lowered his cup and pressed his free hand into his forehead. “Slushie headache!” he groaned, laughing as he bent over.

“You spill and you’re in trouble. I mean it!” His cup tipped dangerously, but then he sat up, righting it before even a drop spilled onto the floorboard.

Zac smiled at me, panting a little as the effects of the slushie worked its way through him. “So? Awesome, right? I’m a genius, you can admit it.”

“It’s good,” I said, taking another sip.

“
Good?
It’s only the best thing in the entire universe! Tacos are good. Pizza is great. Cherry-lime-grape slushies are indescribable.”

“I think I understand now why you’re always so wound up,” I commented, casting a glance at him over the rim of my cup.

“Tons of sugar and a natural upbeat personality,” Zac confirmed. His smile lit up his face. He was still flushed from his time onstage and was even more animated than usual, except it seemed to be a more controlled constant movement, not like the chaos that usually surrounded him.

“I know what I want you to do for me,” I said. When Zac gave me a confused look, I added, “When we get an A on the business project.”

He studied me intently. “I’m intrigued. What is it you want from me?”

“Tell your dad that you don’t want to work in his store.”

Zac gave me an exasperated look. “Not happening. I don’t want to be responsible for my dad completely flipping his lid.”

“So you’re going to work there forever, being miserable and dancing to elevator music while you secretly perform at comedy shows?”

“I’m not miserable. No one can be miserable when they’re doing comedy. That’s why the Zac Pack loves me so much.”

“Zac Pack?” I asked.

He grinned and ducked his head. “My fans. I didn’t come up with the name, they did. It’s kind of stupid, but they have these T-shirts they made up. There are rumors of a newsletter coming out soon and a write-in campaign to get me booked on the Late Show, but you know, I’m trying to keep it small town for now. Don’t want to get too big too fast and develop an overinflated ego.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want your head to get any bigger than it already is,” I told him.

Zac laughed. “Did you make a joke? You did! You made a real, actual joke. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a
great
thing. You could stand to loosen up a little every now and then.”

My fingernails dug into the sides of the paper cup in my hand, my smile slipping off my face. “I’m not uptight.”

Zac shrugged. “I didn’t say you were. I just said you could loosen up a bit.”

Loosen up a bit.
Criticism from Zac Greeley.

Suddenly, the cherry-lime-grape slushie had an awful metallic taste. I rolled down my window and poured the purple-black concoction onto the parking lot outside my door.

“Ready to go?” I asked, starting the ignition. My fingers tapped out a steady rhythm on the steering wheel.
Distal phalanges, intermediate phalanges, proximal phalanges, metacarpals, carpals
. I adjusted the strap of my seat belt, making sure it lined up perfectly across my torso.

Zac stared at me, but I didn’t dare look at him. I couldn’t look at him. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine. I need to go home. I have to work later. Either drink the rest of your slushie or pour it out so we can go.”

My fingers continued the steady tapping, a perfectly timed rhythm to the words in my head in comparison to Zac’s wild bouncing knees.

I didn’t care what he thought of me, whether he did think I was uptight or imperfect or whatever. I didn’t want to think about winning Zac over or the fact that I would feel like a zombie later in the day. I wanted to go home, go to sleep, and go back to my normal, planned out life that didn’t involve midnight comedy shows and slushies.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to hide the yawn I couldn’t stifle. My eyes drooped heavily. My instincts had been right—I felt like a zombie. All because of Zac Greeley and his slushies.

The only thing I wanted to do was lay across the counter and take a nap, but I had counter duty at Diggity Dog House that day. My eyelids drifted downward and I felt that soothing sensation of sleep beginning to wash over me just as someone stepped up to the counter, dropping a stack of books and startling me awake.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.” Molly grinned, pushing a pink and blonde braid out of her eyes.

“Hey to you,” I answered, giving her a stern look. “And where have you been?”

“At home, then the library to pick up some reading material.” She tapped the stack of networking books on the counter.

“Oh, really? I called your phone several times this morning and you never answered.”

“My cell phone was dead,” Molly told me. “It was charging while I was on the computer.”

“I checked and you weren’t on chat either.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared down at her, wishing I could read her mind and find out what she had really been up to. Probably something involving that cretin Elliot.

“I wasn’t on chat because I was trying to focus on my work.”

I snorted. “How convenient. And what work was this?”

“Your matchmaking website,” Molly said, scowling back at me. “The one your boyfriend has promised me ten percent of the profits on.”

I grabbed a washcloth from under the counter and scrubbed at a stubborn ketchup stain. “Zac is not my boyfriend. And why didn’t you tell me he had roped you into this project?”

“He didn’t rope me into anything. I merely saw an opportunity to turn things into an advantage for me. If this matchmaking thing takes off, all three of us will have our money problems solved. You could go to Costa Rica five times a year if you wanted.”

“I’ll be lucky if I even make it there once.” I collapsed across the counter, sighing. “This whole thing is getting way too complicated.”

“I have the complicated part, building your website,” Molly said. “Even though it’s not that hard, a bit of tricky coding in some parts—”

“I don’t mean the website,” I interrupted her. “I mean—you know. This thing with Zac is getting way over my head.”

Molly raised her eyebrows. “What? He’s not perfect enough to live up to your standards in fake boyfriends?”

I threw my washcloth at her, hitting her in the face.

“Relax,” Molly said, rolling her eyes. “It was a joke.”

I yawned. “Sorry. I’m a bit grouchy today. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Molly clasped her hands over her heart in mock horror. “You? Not sleep well? Are you sick?”

“No, I’m exhausted from being up until after two A.M. Zac took me to see his midnight comedy show. And then we got slushies.”

“I didn’t know you drank slushies,” Molly said.

“I don’t. It was my sleep deprived state causing me to do insane things that I wouldn’t normally do.”

Molly tilted her head to the side as she looked at me, a strange smile on her face.

I scowled. “What?”

“I think this whole winning Zac over thing could work out great for you. Open you up to a few new ideas. Get you out of your comfort zone.”

I shook my head. “I’m done. I’m not chasing Zac around town in the middle of the night to get him to break up with Hannah. It’s over.”

“So you’re kissing Costa Rica good-bye?” Molly blew a kiss into the air for emphasis.

I wiped a smudge off the glass of the corn dog display next to the register. “I’ll find a way to get there.” But I didn’t sound sure of myself. Hannah’s offer was my last hope for making it there this summer. If I didn’t get the money on my own before June, I could give up the hope of adding it to my college applications for the pre-med programs I planned to apply to. It would be one less thing to distinguish myself from the thousands of other prospective students applying, all of whom I was certain didn’t care about it as much as I did. Being a doctor had been my dream since I was a kid and this summer program was one step closer to getting there. And maybe it was the only chance I would get to be closer to my mom.

“If Hannah decides she wants someone who can get the job done, let me know,” Molly said as she gathered all her books. “For five hundred bucks, I’ll make out with Zac Greeley and convince him I’m the greatest person alive.”

I shot a glare at her. “Get out of here if you’re not planning on ordering anything. I have to get back to work. Someone probably needs another hot dog.”

Molly waved her fingers at me with an evil grin as she turned and headed out the front door of Diggity Dog House.

“Was that Molly?” Elliott asked, coming out of the kitchen and looking toward the front door even though she had already disappeared.

“Are you spying on me?” I snapped.

Elliott gestured toward the broom in his hand. “I’m working, Avery. I can’t help it if doing my job takes me within five feet of you.”

“Whatever,” I said, grabbing the washcloth from where it had landed after hitting my best friend in the face. “It wasn’t Molly anyway.”

“Looked a lot like her,” Elliott said.

“You must be imagining things. Molly doesn’t even like hot dogs.”

“She likes Diggity Dog Shakes. And I can almost surely bet you would call her over here to yell at her for speaking to me last night.”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, Elliott, my entire life does not revolve around you. You are barely a miniscule iota of the things I have on my mind at any given point in the day.”

Elliott leaned on his broom, shooting me a smirk. “But I’ll bet you’re now dying to know what Molly and I talked about, aren’t you?”

“Not at all,” I said, turning my back to him.

“In case you were curious, I asked Molly out. She said no.”

I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep back the smug smile that wanted to spread across my face. I focused on scrubbing a bit of dirt out of the seam in the top of the register. “Maybe your overuse of cologne drove her away.”

“You are so funny, Avery,” Elliott said in a monotone voice. “No wonder you have guys pounding down your door. Oh, wait, you don’t, do you?”

If only the broom wasn’t clenched so tight in his hand. I would have loved to smash Elliott over the head with it.

“No one except Zac Greeley,” Elliott sneered. “You really caught yourself a prize there, didn’t you?”

“At least Zac doesn’t sneak around behind his girlfriend’s back,” I said.

“No, you’re right,” Elliott said, straightening up and beginning to sweep the floor nearby. “Zac would never do that to
his
girlfriend. Other people’s girlfriends, on the other hand, are a different story.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Elliott shrugged and continued sweeping, as if he had grown bored with the conversation. “Why don’t you ask your friend Zac? I’m sure he remembers the entire story very well.”

Mr. Throckmorton walked into the counter area and spotted Elliott and me. “Reiser!” he shouted. “Get back to work and leave flirting to after-hours.”

Ugh. Mr. Throckmorton didn’t know how far off he was in his guess as to what Elliott and I were doing.