Love and Other Secrets Read online

  I move to a different spot. Alex hasn’t said anything about asking Devon, and I don’t like how she’s talking about him like he’s a piece of man candy. Yes, he is good looking, with his shaggy light brown hair that he won’t cut while lacrosse season is still going because bad luck, and don’t get me started on his body. He’s like a teenage Thor except instead of a hammer he wields a lacrosse stick. But he’s a human, and there’s more to him than his looks. Devon doesn’t know that and doesn’t care.

  The bells ring on the front door, and a group of players from the lacrosse team comes in. Alex isn’t with them. The Table Three girls call them over because of course they’re all friends. Flirty smiles are exchanged as the boys hover around them like bees at the hive.

  “Hi there?” a voice calls from the register.

  I smile at the tall boy at the counter. He comes in every once in a while, one of the team, one of Alex’s friends—they call him Tex but his name is Caleb. He spends a lot of time in the library at lunch. When I’m not in the A/V room working on a project, I’m usually in there, too, keeping up with homework so that I can work two jobs, write and edit my films, and also hang out with Alex. Alex has mentioned him before—he moved here in January and isn’t exactly fitting in.

  “Sorry, can I help you?”

  He’s staring at the pastries. “Yes ma’am, please.”

  I laugh.

  One corner of his mouth lifts. “I keep forgetting no one says ma’am here.”

  He’s sweet. “No, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to laugh. I don’t mind, really.”

  He pushes a hand through his hair that’s growing out of the crew cut he had when he moved here. He’s very handsome. Not messy handsome like Alex, but polished, clean-cut. I like it. Plus, he’s talking to me like I’m the only girl here. Which is also nice.

  “Can I get a regular iced coffee, black? Please?”

  “Of course.” Oooh, that cowboy accent—I like that, too. Reminds me of this old movie with Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor where he’s this Texas cowboy and she’s the girl he falls for, which makes sense. She was beautiful with her dark hair, like mine, and her purple eyes, which I don’t have. Just a purple apron. Anyway, he reminds me of that movie, and there’s nothing more romantic than an old Hollywood sweeping epic.

  I make his drink, and that word rolls around in my mind. Epic.

  You know what else could be epic? A handsome leading man like him, a girl like me, and a huge promposal. I mean, I don’t know him at all, but when I hand over his coffee, I bat my eyelashes and give him the biggest smile I can manage. He hits me again with that chiseled jaw and lips that curve up into a grin. Nice smile. Really nice.

  “Thank you so much,” he says.

  Forget handsome. This guy is drop dead gorgeous—with manners, too, and given that he hangs out in the library as often as I do, I’m guessing he doesn’t have a date yet. At least he doesn’t seem to be on the Table Three girls’ radars.

  Alex would know if he’s going with anyone.

  Lightbulbs go off in my head. Alex Koviak has also been promposed to more times than anyone I know, and he sets friends up all the time.

  I hand over the last of the drinks to the lacrosse players, and they all leave, the Table Three girls walking out with them. The shop is instantly quiet.

  Maybe it’s time Alex put all that promposal experience to use. I wipe down tables and then grab the broom and do a quick sweep before the next round of customers.

  I bite my lower lip and try to imagine me, at prom, with Caleb. That’ll only happen if he says yes of course, though he doesn’t seem like the type who would say no. A bolt of electric energy crackles through me, immediately followed by a wave of nausea. It’ll be terrifying, but I can prompose to Caleb—and not just for the purposes of my short film. It’ll be nice to go with him, I think. He seems like a good guy. Not a player at all.

  The only other guy I’d want to go with, as I think it’s been established, is the exact opposite, and will be going with someone else. No way will Devon wait more than a couple more days.

  So yeah, I’m going to make this happen, but I’ve got to act fast. Promposal season is in full swing. Caleb could get asked any minute.

  I put the broom away and poke my head into the office.

  “Jax?”

  He grunts from the small desk shoved into the corner. “What?”

  “I’d like to request a day off. May 5th.”

  He shakes his head and groans, like he can’t even believe this affront to his all-holy schedule, but he doesn’t say no.

  I get back behind the counter and reach in my pocket for my cell phone. Finally, I have a second to answer Alex’s text.

  I’ll be there. Heat up the gumbo. Something important to ask you! :)

  Chapter Three

  Alex

  Something important to ask me? What’s that about?

  Prom? That would be awesome, but it’s not likely. Yeah, it would answer all my questions, solve all my problems. She’d only ask me as a friend and probably only for that film contest that she’s determined to win, but it would be a start. A start to what? I don’t know, exactly. What I do know is, she’s in my head too much sometimes and…

  Okay, she’s in my head all the time.

  All I know is if she asks, I’m saying yes, of course. If she doesn’t, I’m asking her. Then we’ll have gumbo, maybe watch one of her movie recommendations, then…I don’t know what happens after that. We’ll still be friends, but maybe with the small potential to be something more?

  Damn, I’m nervous.

  I move maniacally through the house, trying to kill time. I adjust a candlestick on the hall table, moving it to the left a few inches. Then I move it back. Our house was decorated by an interior designer. It doesn’t need my help. I wipe the small table with a finger, checking for dust, but Miriam keeps the place spotless. I stand in front of the giant gold-framed mirror in the foyer, pull up a corner of my T-shirt, and wipe at an imaginary smudge on the glass, but give up because, yeah, there’s nothing there either.

  I shake out my arms.

  Chill, Koviak.

  Hopefully my instincts about asking Bailey aren’t imaginary, too.

  Next to the candlesticks under the mirror are the flowers I picked up at the grocery store. Luckily, she was working at the coffee shop tonight so I could buy this bouquet without her knowing. It was the biggest, most expensive one there.

  This is not exactly an epic promposal, but it’s good enough. Flowers. Gumbo. Me. How could she say no?

  What if she says no?

  I glance at my phone. Her shift ends at eight, and it’s 8:05. It’ll take another five minutes for her to get here.

  My heart races like I’ve been running drills. I need to relax. But how? Finally, I drop to the floor, onto my back on the antique rug. I stare up at the giant crystal chandelier that has been hanging since this house was built by my great-great-great grandparents in 1899. That’s a long time.

  I wonder how many panic attacks of my crazy ancestors that light has witnessed. I’m probably just the latest in a long line. I close my eyes. The whole house is quiet.

  I need to center. Bailey taught me this—to breathe from your toes. I’m doing that now. I also remind myself, like I do before a game, that I am awesome and will not be denied victory. It usually works. My eyes pop open. It’s not working tonight. Something’s wrong. I’m not confident. Maybe it’s because I’ve never asked a girl to a dance. I could really suck at it. Also, this is no ordinary girl.

  Positive, Kov, think positive, dammit.

  The second I hear her car turn onto the circular drive, I hop up and my heart is at an all-out sprint again. Bailey’s car is old and not at all subtle in its approach. I move the candlestick again to the left and inspect the flowers. Maybe I should have gotten something bigger. Maybe I should have done more.

  I’m so nervous. I look in the mirror and put on my game face—fierce, fearless, committed! I slap mysel
f once on each cheek, put a palm in front of my mouth, and do a breath test. I mean, she might kiss me when I ask her. No she won’t, but as I think of what it would be like to kiss those lips, I frantically dig the tin of tiny mints out of my back pocket, open it, and dump a bunch in my mouth. Shit! Too many, too many! I chew and swallow them with a painful gulp and walk to the massive front door, grab the handle, and pull.

  Her fist is raised, about to knock, eyebrows drawn together, a goofy, lopsided grin on her face.

  “Hi?” she says, and I’m struck by how pretty she is. Very. She is very pretty.

  “Hey.” My voice is weird and high-pitched. I sound like a frickin’ twelve-year-old boy. I clear my throat.

  Her eyebrow quirks upward. “Is this where I find the gumbo?”

  I open the door wider. “You’ve come to the right place.”

  She steps in, smelling of coffee beans, and leans slightly toward me and sniffs.

  “Did you just eat a tube of toothpaste?”

  God. I’m an idiot. Come on, pull it together, man. “Yep. Can’t stop at one squeeze.”

  She walks past me into the foyer. What’s wrong with me? Take charge, Koviak. ASK HER! Do it now!

  I close the door, open my mouth, the question on the tip of my tongue. “Bails…”

  Just as the words start to flow, she wheels around to face me with a giant smile.

  “So!” She stops my question dead. There’s a spark in her light gray eyes. Her dark, wavy hair shines in the glow of the all-seeing chandelier. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  That smile is like an eclipse. You can’t look at it too long, but I take it as a good sign. Confidence floods me. “Ask me anything.” The words barely get out of my mouth before she starts talking again.

  “Okay. I’m gonna ask fast because I’m freaking out and I don’t want to change my mind, because I’m really excited about this. But I’m nervous!”

  God, she’s cute. I can’t stop the slow grin growing on my face. She’s going to ask me. All that doubt and anxiety was for nothing. “Okay. So ask.”

  I’ve never seen her like this, anxious, bouncing up and down on the balls of her toes. Bailey is down to earth, a planner, a thinker. She’s not a toe bouncer.

  I laugh, feeling pretty good by now. “Oh my God, ask!”

  “Okay, okay!” She bites her bottom lip, still bouncing. “Will you…” Her eyebrows draw together in a pleading look. “Help me ask someone to the prom?” Her eyes get wide, her forehead crinkles up. “Please?”

  Wait. What?

  I don’t understand. “You want to ask someone to prom?”

  The spark in her eyes flickers. Her smile turns into a grimace. “Yes?”

  Whoa. My mouth is hanging open. Say something, dumbass.

  “Oh.”

  Really? Oh? That’s brilliant. She doesn’t want to go to the prom with you, idiot. She wants you to help her go with someone else.

  Right.

  I take a step backward. “Okay.” Get it together, Alex. Why did I let myself get so excited? I shove my hands in my front pockets, as if this will somehow calm me, and then I inhale. “Who?”

  A different smile erupts on her face now. It’s the one I like the best—smooth, confident, and sexy. “Caleb.”

  She’s waiting for me to say something, her eyes big and hopeful.

  She’s still waiting.

  “Caleb?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see the insanely over-the-top flower bouquet that I bought for no reason.

  “Yes!” she exclaims. “I don’t think he’s going with anyone yet, and he seems really sweet.” She’s doing the toe bounce thing again. “You told me he’s a good guy and he doesn’t have a lot of friends yet.” She’s talking so fast I have to concentrate hard to understand. “He came in for coffee today, and I had the thought, why not ask him? Tis the season, am I right?”

  She pulls up both of her shoulders, waiting for an answer I haven’t yet given her, and my silence is getting awkward. She keeps talking.

  “And you’re good at putting the right people together. Like Eli and Nora, and you’ve been promposed to so many times, you’re like an expert by now. Plus you know him, and you know what he likes, and you’ll make sure I do it even when I try to chicken out! Right?”

  I swallow; the shards of half-chewed mints feel like they’re piercing my throat. She doesn’t want to go to prom with me. I’m not what she wants, and I have no business wanting more with her. I have earned my reputation. Why would she take a chance on someone like me?

  I blink, twice. “You wanna prompose? To Tex?”

  She sighs. “Well, yeah. I mean, at first it was mostly for the project. You know I need good promposal footage, so I figured the best way to get good stuff is if I do it. I’ll have someone film it. And Caleb is so nice and totally handsome, and I think he’d be a really good prom date, and who knows? I’d like to have an actual boyfriend before I’m forty. Maybe it could be him?”

  Boyfriend?

  “What?” She frowns. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

  No, I do not! But what am I supposed to say here? Breathe from your toes. So I do, knowing that I need to regroup. Come on, Kov. Whatever you were thinking about this girl is not gonna happen. You have been denied.

  “No. It’s great, a great idea,” I lie. “For sure.”

  I’m no sore loser, never have been, so I force myself to throw an arm around her shoulder in a non-boyfriend way.

  She points at the bouquet. “What’s up with the flowers?”

  Dammit. I shrug and struggle to come up with an answer. “Oh. I was…I was thinking of asking someone to prom. Later. Tomorrow. Whatever.”

  She pulls away from me. “Really?” Her arms cross. “Who?”

  My heartbeat trips along, fast and faster. I run a nervous hand through my hair. “I’m not telling you, because you’ll get all judge-y.”

  I have no idea what she’s thinking, but it seems like a cross between amused and annoyed. “Wow. She must be something special for you to do the asking. I hope she’s worth it.”

  “Maybe,” I say.

  She laughs then, not at all jealous apparently, which is fine. This whole asking-her-to-prom idea was stupid. I read her wrong. She’s my friend, protective of me. I’m protective of her. It’s easy to get those emotions mixed up.

  If Bailey doesn’t want me—as a prom date, or any other kind of date—I will help her go with a decent guy. Though I’m not going to lie, it’s going to suck. A lot.

  We’re friends with zero potential, and I’ve got to find a way to deal with that. In the meantime, I’m here for my Bails when she needs me.

  No. Not “my” Bails.

  Just plain Bailey.

  Chapter Four

  Bailey

  There’s a big bowl of steaming gumbo in front of me at the kitchen table, the spicy sausage and chicken stew sitting on top of a fluffy pillow of white rice. It smells so good. Miriam’s a genius.

  It never fails to amaze me how good life is at Casa de Koviak. It seems just about perfect, and I love being here, though every now and then it hits me how different our lives are. He’s got so many friends and so much money and I don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that we have a good time together.

  Except…something’s off tonight. Alex isn’t saying much at all. Usually I can’t shut him up. But it’s not only him; I’m not feeling all that talkative, either. I’m not ignorant—that was a Spring Bounty bouquet from the floral department at the grocery store where I work—the most expensive we sell. He wants to ask a girl to prom? That giant $59.99 bouquet of flowers reminds me that Alex has a whole other life outside our late night hang out sessions. I need to be okay with that, especially now that he’s helping me ask a boy to prom.

  He’s absorbed in his thoughts or his gumbo, I can’t tell, but he’s quiet. And also he’s not eating, I realize now that I’m paying attention. I am, though. God, this stuff is divine.
r />   He sits a few more minutes without saying or doing anything until, finally, I can’t take it anymore.

  “So, did you poison the gumbo and now you’re waiting for me to die? Or are you coming up with an amazing promposal?”

  He lifts his eyes, causing a disturbing flutter in my chest. “Well,” he says, finally picking up his spoon. “I’m assuming you want to go big? Or else you could have done this yourself, right?”

  Something about his tone makes me squirm slightly. “Yeah. Right, I guess. Big. Sure. Why not? I mean, it doesn’t have to go viral or anything”—I think of the Table Three girl at the coffee shop—“but it needs to be memorable.”

  He presses his lips together and nods. “He does know who you are, right?”

  “Yeah.” I dredge up another spoonful. “I mean, he comes in to the coffee shop a lot. He’s sort of a regular.”

  He rolls his eyes. “So that’s a hard ‘no.’”

  My shoulders sag. No, he doesn’t know me at all. “I think he’d at least recognize me,” I say. “But I was hoping you could help me with that. Like, put in a good word?”

  His eyebrows rise, and his trademark sly smile appears. “I don’t know. That’s gonna cost you.”

  I grin back. “Oh yeah? What’s it gonna cost, Alex?” I’m aware of the flirty purr in my voice that I know shouldn’t be there. I clear my throat to get rid of it.

  “I’ll get back to you on that,” he says. I swear I can hear him purr a little, too, but then I remind myself that’s how he talks to every girl.

  I drum my fingers on the kitchen table. It’s made out of white and gray-veined marble that puts every surface in my house to shame. If that wasn’t enough, there’s another table in the formal dining room that’s roughly the size of a football field. “You’d think you’d do it for free, Mr. Trust Fund.”

  He laughs. “It’s cute that you think I’m talking about money.”

  I purse my lips and shake my head. “Whatever. You don’t get paid until you deliver.”

  He winks at me like the flirt he is. “Oh, I’ll deliver. Don’t worry. I’ve been asked to enough dances to know what works, but it’s gonna take more than me putting a good word in for you. You need to actually meet him, talk to him, you know, in a neutral environment, not as a customer in the Java Infusion.”