Crazy, Stupid, Fauxmance (Creative HeARTS) Read online

  Jacen comes over. “I’m sorry things between us are so awkward.”

  “It’s not awkward,” I lie and gather my things, along with the shreds of my dignity. “I’m tired, that’s all. I had to work a late shift last night at the Drafthouse.”

  Jacen’s head tilts. “Since when are you working weeknight shifts?”

  “Since I’ll be going to L.A. by myself. I need the extra money.” I toss my backpack onto my shoulder and head to the restroom, where I lock myself in a stall and cry. In the past three days I have cried more than I have in the last five years. If I’d known this was how crappy breakups were, I’d never have started dating in the first place. Unfortunately I don’t have the time to wallow for long. In addition to last night’s shift, I volunteered to fill in for a girl who couldn’t make her shift tonight.

  I wash my hands and splash some water on my face, then walk outside. I should have wallowed longer because Jacen is still here, waiting by the curb. Himesh’s black car pulls up next to him and he opens the door. I can see Himesh’s profile and dark hair as Jacen climbs in, quickly closes the door, leans over, and—

  I close my eyes. Knowing they’re together is one thing, but having to watch? It’s too much, too soon.

  “Wow, they make such a cute couple, don’t they?” Audrey’s giant designer tote rams into my arm and nearly knocks me over as she sashays by. I’m too far down in the dumps to come back at her with the witty, cutting retort she deserves and she’s gone too quickly to hear one anyway.

  “That has got to suck.”

  I glance over my shoulder and find Dahlia standing just behind me. She’s in the music track so our paths don’t cross that often. Senior seminar is the first class I can think of where we’ve had any real interaction.

  “You mean Audrey?” I ask.

  “Yes, Audrey sucks, no doubt, but also that.” She tosses her chin toward Jacen and Himesh driving away into the sunset. Okay, the sun wasn’t really setting at four in the afternoon, but that’s how it felt when I saw them together. “Having to see your ex all happy in new relationship mode. That’s the worst.”

  “I guess it’s something I’m going to have to get used to.”

  She nods knowingly. “You need a rebound.”

  I snort. “The last thing I need right now is another relationship.”

  Dahlia’s impish features screw up like I’m speaking Chinese. “Who said anything about a relationship? I’m talking about a hookup with someone totally hot who will make you and everyone else forget that your last guy just dumped you for his own guy. No strings, all fun, you know?”

  No, I did not know. A hookup with a hot guy? Even if I was into those sorts of arrangements, which obviously I’m not (three-year relationship, remember?), Dahlia makes it sound like the easiest thing in the world to do, like I can just put an ad on Craigslist and…okay, not the best example.

  “Um…thanks for the advice, Dahlia. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “No, that’s the point, it’s not something you think about, you just do it.” Walking away she tosses this gem at me: “The best way to get over a breakup is a hookup.”

  For the first time in days, I laugh. Me and a no-strings hookup? I can’t even imagine.

  My bus is lumbering up the road so I hurry across the lot toward the stop. In the last row, I catch a glimpse of Cabot and Audrey. She has him cornered against the driver’s door of his car. That girl is relentless. As an actress I’m trained to read subtle nuance in a person’s features, but there is nothing subtle or nuanced about what I read in Cabot’s face: embarrassment and misery. The same things Dahlia probably saw in mine five minutes ago.

  That’s when I know: if any two people could benefit from a hookup right now, it’s me and Cabot Wheeler.

  …

  Every boy at Austin NextGen was familiar with the phrase “No means no.” They got pulled aside once a year for an all-day sexual harassment and violence prevention class of the same name. When a girl says no for any reason, you cease and desist immediately, no ifs, ands, or buts. Period.

  Cabot wished Audrey had been forced to attend the class. She definitely knew how to say the word “no,” but apparently had zero experience hearing it. Much less ceasing and desisting immediately.

  Honestly, he didn’t know how to be any clearer with her than “it’s over.” Clarity, however, was not working. She texted him constantly, kept calling, and waited for him outside of every class. He’d gone out of his way to avoid her today, skipping classes they shared, going the long way around between buildings and even driving an entirely different route to school this morning so he didn’t go past her house. Nothing worked. She’d popped up around every corner. He’d checked his phone at least five times today to make sure the GPS locator was turned off. Didn’t matter—Audrey was making it very obvious that she was not going to assume the title of ex-girlfriend unless she was the one doing the ex-ing.

  After last bell, Cabot had practically sprinted to his car on his mission to get as far away from her as soon as possible. But A) he’d been all the way at the rear of the school grounds in Sushi Hall, and B) because he’d been deliberately late this morning he’d had to park at the edge of the lot.

  A + B = Audrey.

  Cabot’s fingers had just curled around the door handle of the Porsche when she pounced.

  “Cabot, you’ve been ignoring all my texts.”

  Stupid math. “Yes, Audrey, I have, because we broke up.”

  Annoyed, she crossed her arms. “Well, stop—I want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t have anything else to say.”

  Her eyes narrowed for a split second, so fast he almost missed it, and then her whole face softened and the taut lines of her lips relaxed into a plump pout. She took a step forward. “We both know we’re going to get back together sooner or later.” Another step and she was on him. Cabot tried to scoot back, but he was pinned against the car, feeling every bit the fly as a spider closed in.

  She pressed the length of herself to him, laid a hand on his chest, and curled the other around his neck, trailing her fingers into his hair. “Getting back together sooner would be nice, though, wouldn’t it? Plus, we can still go to the dance.”

  Had she always been this way? Manipulative and calculating? How had he not seen it before? How had he ever fallen for it, for her? Actually, when he thought about the whole last year it felt like he’d been in some kind of haze, even the parts with Audrey. Then that haze had evaporated the second she’d ruined his favorite pair of Vans last Saturday night. He wasn’t going to fall for any of her BS anymore.

  Cabot moved her aside. “Listen to me. We are not getting back together. Not now. Not ever.”

  The tightness around her mouth returned. “Be reasonable. Who else would you be with?” When he didn’t answer, her voice took on a snide, taunting tone. “And who else are you going to take to Thursday dinners with your dad? Imagine all that time to talk, just the two of you, if I’m not there.”

  In all this mess he’d forgotten about Thursdays. He jerked open the car door. “I can deal with my dad. We’re still not getting back together, and I’m definitely not taking you to the dance.”

  “Because he’s taking me.”

  Mariely Hinojosa appeared out of nowhere at the end of his car. Wearing a leather jacket over a skintight black top and pants with a little red scarf tied around her neck that matched her lips and heels, she looked like she’d just stepped off the stage production of Grease. She was like naughty Sandy come to life.

  “What did you say?” Audrey snapped at her.

  To Mariely’s credit, she didn’t flinch. Instead, she came around the car. “I said, Cabot’s taking me to the dance.” She glued her eyes to his. “Right, Cabot?”

  What the hell was going on? This felt like some whacked-out Saturday Night Live skit and he was the clueless guest star who didn’t know his next line. “Uh…”

  Mariely jumped in. “Sorry, Audrey, but I thought after
Saturday, well…we all know what happened to me and Cabot at the party. Anyway, we ran into each other at a coffee shop yesterday, and since we’re now both single, I asked him to the dance. He said yes. Right, Cabot?”

  He glanced back and forth from Mariely, who was urging him with her eyes to agree, to Audrey, whose eyes dared him to agree. Of all the times he’d fantasized about being trapped between two beautiful girls, this was not how he imagined it going. He had no idea why Mariely was doing this, but if it meant getting out of this situation with Audrey, he was all for it.

  “That’s right. She asked, I said yes. Because she’s single and I’m single, so I’m going with Mariely to the dance. Yes.” Then to make it seem more legit—or maybe to protect her from Audrey’s wrath—he slid his arm around Mariely’s waist and pulled her close. Her body flinched almost imperceptibly beneath his hand but she didn’t move away.

  Audrey’s green eyes blazed. “You have got to be joking. You and her?”

  Cabot angled his body so that he could step between the two of them if it came to that. “Yeah, me and her. Sorry.”

  Audrey went stock-still. She might have even stopped breathing because her face, her whole body, turned violent red, nearly purple, and for the first time Cabot could remember, she was incapable of speech.

  Mariely, however, was not. She wound her arms possessively around him and taunted, “You know what they say, Audrey, the best way to get over a breakup is a hookup.”

  For a second, he thought Audrey’s head might actually launch from her shoulders into the stratosphere. Instead all she did was stomp away in impotent silence.

  They stood together, arms around each other until she got into her car and screeched out of the parking lot. Only then did Mariely drop her arms from his waist and step away. Now that Audrey was no longer here, though, she didn’t seem quite so sure of herself. “I-I think I’ll take that ride, Cabot.”

  Utterly confused by what had just happened and needing answers, he nodded. “Yeah, definitely.”

  Chapter Five

  I cannot believe I did that.

  I cannot believe I walked up and asked Cabot Wheeler to go to the dance with me. IN FRONT OF AUDREY JAKES!

  My heart is going at least a thousand beats a second, and my hands feel numb. The car’s engine is barely able to drown out the sound of my heavy breathing. I’m pretty sure I’m going into shock. Sitting in the passenger seat of an impossibly tiny convertible so close to Cabot we’re practically spooning doesn’t help. I feel only slightly less awkward than I did when I walked in on Jacen and Himesh last weekend.

  Cabot has not said anything yet, he just drives. I know he’s waiting for me to explain what the hell happened, but I’m not even sure what happened. I was going on pure instinct. Only now that I’ve done what I did I’m not sure what to do next.

  Ugh, this is why I love the theater—all my lines are written down for me in advance.

  “So…I’m a little unclear about what went down back there,” Cabot says after we turn out of the NextGen lot.

  “Yeah, me, too,” I mutter.

  “Thanks for getting me out of that situation with Audrey, though. I appreciate it. She’s, uh, having trouble coming to grips with our breakup.” He pauses. “Were you serious about the whole dance thing? I’ve been pretty out of it the last few days, but I don’t remember you asking me when I saw you at the coffee shop.”

  This is the moment of truth, and I don’t actually know how I’m going to answer until the words kind of spill out of my mouth. “No, I didn’t ask you, but I am serious.”

  “Oh.” Cabot keeps his eyes straight ahead, focused on the Lamar Boulevard traffic. “Should I keep going this way, or…”

  “Can you take me to the Drafthouse on South Lamar? I work there.” He nods, but then goes quiet again.

  Oh? That’s not an answer. I guess I need to make myself clearer, so I take a huge breath, exhale, and go for it.

  “Listen, Cabot, I know we don’t know each other, like, at all, but I think we can help each other out. If you go with me to the dance then maybe Audrey will get it through her head that y’all are over and stop harassing you. And I want people to forget that my boyfriend tossed me to the curb for another guy. To quit talking about me behind my back.”

  He grunts. “You think this is the way to get people to stop talking about you?”

  “Probably not,” I concede, “but at least maybe I can steer the conversation in my favor.”

  “You give people way too much credit. You know they’ll say I’m using you to get back at Audrey.”

  “Why can’t they say that I’m using you to get back at Jacen?”

  He takes his eyes off the road to give me a look that says he can’t believe I’m that naive. “’Cause that’s not how it works…especially if Audrey has anything to say about it, which she will. I promise.”

  I grip the edges of the leather seat. “Does this mean you’ll do it? You’ll go with me to the dance?”

  Cabot rakes a hand through his dark hair and rubs the back of his head like he can’t believe he’s about to do what he’s about to do, making my hope skyrocket. But then he shakes his head. “I think it’s going to take more than you and me going to the dance together to deter Audrey.”

  “Oh.”

  My hope nosedives into the ground. In less than a week I’ve been thrown over by Jacen for Himesh, and now after making a blatant spectacle of myself in front of his vindictive ex-girlfriend, Cabot is not going to the dance with me. I’d say committing social suicide just ratcheted up my life from hot mess to bonafide Greek tragedy.

  My stomach knits itself into a series of tight knots. By the time Cabot turns into the Drafthouse’s parking lot, I’m this close to throwing up all over the dashboard.

  “Thanks for the ride, Cabot, and I’m s-sorry for what happened.” My voice is shaking so badly I can barely get the words out. I fumble for the door handle.

  “Hey, that thing you said about hooking up to get over breaking up.”

  “Oh.” I shake my head, mortified that I said something so sleazy. “That was something I heard, I didn’t mean it. I thought it would piss off Audrey. At least that part was successful,” I mutter and ponder the fresh hell I can look forward to when she finds out the truth.

  “Yeah, it did,” Cabot says. “I think we should do it.”

  “Do what?” I ask, confused.

  “Hook up.”

  My hand falls limp from the door and my bottom jaw lands somewhere near my feet. At least half a minute passes before I’m able to get my brain and my mouth to work in conjunction again. “You think we should hook up?” My voice raises at least two octaves over those six words.

  Cabot looks taken aback. “No, not for real. I wasn’t propositioning you or anything.”

  “Oh.” I don’t mean to sound disappointed, more confused than anything, but it must sound that way to Cabot, because he quickly backtracks.

  “Not that I wouldn’t, you know, hook up with you. I mean you’ve got this whole va-va-voom thing going and—” Cabot stops himself and takes a beat. “Let me start over. What I’m trying to say, badly, is that I’m not looking to hop into anything with anybody anytime soon, and I don’t think you are either, right?”

  “Definitely not,” I agree extra emphatically to assure him I wasn’t hoping he wanted to hook up.

  “But what if for the next few weeks we pretended to be together?”

  A cross between a hiccup and a guffaw escapes my throat. “You and me?”

  He laughs. “Yes, you and me. We’ll act like we’re together, go to the dance, and afterward we’ll go our separate ways—a ‘just fun while it lasted’ sort of thing to get over our breakups. I think it could work, for both of us.”

  “Are you serious? Going to the dance is one thing—that’s just you agreeing to show up in a tux with me, but what makes you think anyone would believe we”—I gesture wildly back and forth between us—“are really together? The East Side girl a
nd the boy from the Hills; rockabilly theater chick and prep school…what are you in?”

  “Art. And I never went to prep school.”

  “Whatever. I take the bus and you drive a Porsche convertible, for the love of Vivien Leigh!”

  Cabot’s forehead scrunches up. “Vivien Leigh? What does she have to do with this?”

  Ugh, I hate it when my inside voice escapes to the outside. “Nothing. Sometimes I use actresses’ names instead of curse words,” I explain, but it’s not enough for him and his eyebrows go up, too. “I have a little brother and sister so I have to watch my language and classic movies are kind of my thing, in case you couldn’t tell.” I indicate my outfit, hoping he’s able to connect all these wildly disparate dots, but when he tilts his head I know he just thinks I’m the one who’s cuckoo here. I sigh. “Never mind. You were going to tell me why people would ever believe in a thousand years we are hooking up?”

  “How about because we just had our significant others cheat on us? Solace, revenge, chemistry? There are any number of reasons why a guy and girl who don’t seem like a match on paper get together. Besides, I already mentioned your retro sexy vibe and with—”

  “Your blue lagoon eyes?” The words tumble of my mouth. Gah! Why can’t my inside voice stay inside? I snap my lips shut, hoping there’s enough shadows in the car that he can’t see me flame red.

  A grin tugs at one corner of Cabot’s mouth, and he bites down on it, like he’s the one feeling impossibly embarrassed by what I said. “I was going to say hormones. But yeah, people will be a lot more willing to believe we’re together than you think.”

  I pause and think about what he’s proposing. Could he be right? Would people really buy it? I mean, I though Jacen and I were a happy, model couple right up until three days ago, so I guess people do believe what they want to believe. And I wasn’t the first freshman to win best actress in the Greater Austin High School Musical Theatre Awards for nothing—I’m that good. Besides, pretending to be with a gorgeous, rich, considerate, and surprisingly Machiavellian guy doesn’t seem like a stretch.