Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(56)
She leans in and administers one of her patented Miss Universe death-grip hugs. “You are the greatest boyfriend ever. I don’t deserve you.” She cranes her head back and sniffs up the gooey gelatinous drip that hangs precariously from her nostril. All I can think is, Surely I don’t deserve this. “I am never going to let you go,” she adds, and smiles big, a large mucusy saliva bubble inflating on her teeth.
I force a laugh. “That’s . . . great.”
Evelyn’s mouth bubble pops, sending a mist of spittle onto my cheek.
“I want to make it up to you,” she says. “For being a jealous Nelly. Seriously.”
I casually lift my hand to my face to wipe away the wet. “That’s really okay. There’s nothing to make up for.”
She grabs my forearms, cutting off the circulation to my hands. “I insist,” Evelyn demands, her voice deadly serious. “I won’t feel better until you let me do something nice for you.”
I can’t imagine what Evelyn’s idea of being nice entails. Surprising me with a ticket to go run with the bulls? Signing us up for couples cliff diving? Or a tour of Arkham Asylum?
Just then the late bell rings, which means if I’m not in math class in thirty seconds Mrs. Buckeen is going to make me sit in the Throne of Shame at the front of the room.
“Sure,” I blurt. “Okay.”
“Thank you!” Evelyn shrieks, bouncing up and down. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You will not regret this.”
But, of course, I already do.
“I’ve got a great idea.” She shakes my arms like she’s trying to straighten out a particularly wrinkled bedspread. “Let’s go to the mall tomorrow afternoon. You and me. We can pick out your Valentine’s Day present. I want to get you something really special.”
The mall. That doesn’t sound so bad. Better than Arkham Asylum, anyway. “All right,” I say. “The mall. Tomorrow. Let’s do it.”
“Oh, you’re the bestest, snuggle bunny.” Evelyn grabs my head and practically gives me a tonsillectomy with her tongue before pulling away with a sloppy smack. “Four o’clock by the H&M,” she says. “And don’t be late! Toodle-oo, kangaroo.”
Then she’s gone and I can finally breathe again.
I turn and hurry down the hall, shaking off the ickiness that lingers.
It’s not until I’ve taken the two flights of stairs down to the math wing — feeling almost normal again — that I am punched in the face with the realization of how completely and royally I’ve just screwed myself.
“JUST TELL EVELYN you forgot that you had a doctor’s appointment,” Matt offers, unwrapping his tuna sandwich, the fishy smell wafting through the Hole — our secret storage-room hideout in the basement of the school — where me, Matt, and Coop have gathered for an emergency meeting. “Then you’ll be free to meet up with this Leyna girl.”
I shake my head. “Evelyn’s already super suspicious. Forget it. I have to find Leyna and cancel. I just wish I had her number so I could just text her.”
Coop tsk-tsks, like he’s disappointed in me. “I don’t understand why you don’t just keep your dates with both babes. You can shuttle back and forth between them. One at the coffee shop, the other at the food court. How dope would that be? You’ll be the super-stud of the Rockville Mall.”
“Yeah, right. Like that doesn’t have disaster written all over it.” I take a bite of my baloney and cheese on Wonder bread. “I’m just going to have to wait until after we finish the movie, dump Evelyn, and ask Leyna out then.”
Coop screws up half his face. “That is complete lame sauce, dawg. This kind of sweet sitch only comes around once in a lifetime. You’re the man with the gland, dude. Two babes wanting to paw you to pieces? You owe it to your fellow brethren to make this happen.” Coop pulls a squashed Sally Gregg Diet Meal Bar from his back pocket and starts to unwrap it. “Besides, boss. You blow this girl off now, and she’s gonna take it as disinterest. She’ll go scouting for another dude, stat. Trust me.”
“I am not going on two dates with two girls at the same time,” I protest. “Even if I could pull it off — which I can’t — it wouldn’t be fair to either one of them.”
“Don’t be such a yam bag,” Coop says. “It’s their own fault. Babes always want what they can’t have.”
Matt raises one eyebrow skeptically. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Mattie, my son. Must I always have to be your guide to all things vagina? It’s how the female brain is hardwired. When a guy isn’t hooked up with anyone, he’s radioactive. Girls are all, ‘Eek, stay away from me.’ But when same-said dude is unavail, every girl wants him. It’s Babeology 101.”
Matt turns to me. “Just ignore him. He’s full of shit.”
Coop shrugs and takes a bite of his diet bar. “Who’re you going to listen to? Valerie’s bitch or the man with subscriptions to Maxim and FHM? I’m telling you, dawg, the whole thing’s biochem. It’s the scent you’re giving off. Before it was eau de desperation. Which is why you attracted Her Nuttiness to begin with. But once you were bound and tied, you started emanating fondle-me pheromones.” He pulls a second flattened diet bar — this one a Sumptuous S’more Snack — from his other back pocket. “Look, this isn’t a big ish, dawg. You can have your steak and eat it too. It’s a simple matter of time-and-place management.”