Kissing Ted Callahan (and Other Guys)(26)

*

Garrick has flash cards in his hand when he lets me in after school, but I lean in to kiss him, and there’s no hesitation on his part.

We lean back against the door, and I feel like my whole body’s buzzing because Garrick is pressed up against me, like, fully pressed up against me. His hands are holding my face, which I find straight-out-of-a-good-romantic-comedy romantic.

“Riley,” Garrick says, and I am expecting him to declare his love for me.

“Yeah?” I ask, slipping my hand up his T-shirt, but not trying to make my voice sexy because I can only really handle one of those seduction techniques at once.

“We really should study,” he says.

“Oh,” I say.

“The test coming up is really important,” he says. “And I’m applying for this student volunteer opportunity at UCLA, and I want Mr. Landiss to have no room to say anything negative about me.”


“I get it,” I say, because despite that I was really hoping studying would not come into play today, I do get it. The Gold Diggers have been practicing more than usual to get ready for our gig at the fall formal, and I guess to science geeks a test is a lot like a gig. So we sit on the couch and get out our notebooks and textbooks. Garrick gets us fancy sodas and a bag of organic Parmesan-flavored chips. A couple of weeks ago, this is what I would have expected from a study session with Garrick, but now it’s a total letdown.

Maybe it’s Sydney Jacobs. Or maybe it really is that science is more important to Garrick than sex. Well, things-leading-up-to-sex, at least. I try to quickly calculate if music or things-leading-up-to-sex are more important to me.

“Hey,” I say, kind of out of nowhere. “Do you want to go to the Andrew Mothereffing Jackson show with me? It’s next week at the Satellite.”

“Who’s that?” he asks.

My hope that Garrick is secretly some kind of music nerd because he’s heard of the Smell and once selected a good album on my iPod flickers a bit.

“A local band, but they tour nationally and stuff. They’re just these really loud punk guys, but they have kind of this 1960s vibe, the whole perfect three-chord song thing, and their drummer’s kind of crazy. Me and Reid always say he reminds us of Animal from the Muppets.”

Garrick’s looking at me pretty blankly, which is not an attractive expression on anyone, so I make a stern mental note to always at least pretend I know what the heck is going on if I ever want to get past second base with anyone.

“You’re probably busy,” I say, to save both of us. Have I decided we need saving? Yes, yes, we do. “With your application for this UCLA thing.”

“Yeah, I really am,” he says.

“Cool,” I say, even though I’m feeling really uncool. “Hey, um, so, can I ask you something? I’m kind of embarrassed about it, but…”

“But?” Garrick asks.

“But I’m just going to ask it. Okay. Did you and Sydney Jacobs ever… you know… do it?”

“That’s really personal,” he says.

“Oh, okay,” I say, like an understanding person. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I can tell you,” he says. “Yeah, we did. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone gossiping about her.”

“Totally won’t,” I say, even though I’m going to write it down in the Passenger Manifest later. That doesn’t count. Also maybe people in Ashley’s circle would care that Sydney Jacobs had sex, but I don’t think anyone in high school is exactly following Nickelodeon scandalous behavior.

“Let’s get back to our flash cards,” he says. And right now that does sound like the right call.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE



Best Places for Doing It, by Riley


Your own bed (when your parents are away, obviously)

It’s boring but free, and probably the most comfortable place.

The guy’s bed (when his parents are away, double obviously)

It’s slightly less boring (for me) but also free and comfortable.

Backstage at a concert (after, not during--don’t disrespect live music)

I’ll just say I’ve thought about this a lot.

On a tour bus (parked, not in motion)

If no one else is around. I may have thought about this a lot, too.





Best Places for Doing It, by Reid (Fine, Ri, I will make this list even though I will probably never need it.)


A fancy hotel

I’m not saying I can afford a fancy hotel, but I could save up or figure something out. If you’re wanting to make the moment really special and romantic, this is your best option.

A really nice house

I’m not sure how I’ll get access to a really nice house, and mine is pretty average, but I think you could blow a girl’s mind if you walk her into a house that’s really big or is designed by a famous architect or is near a beautiful landmark.

An expensive car

Would it be too weird if I borrowed Mom’s BMW for these purposes? (Maybe you shouldn’t answer this, Ri--I can hear your answer already and it’s not good.)





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


I should be terrified the night of the fall formal, but I am a Rock Star. I’m wearing my Upset T-shirt over a long-sleeved sparkly gold shirt, with a denim skirt, striped tights, and my cherry-red Doc Martens. The Gold Diggers have been using our free time to practice, and Reid set up a recording the other night. Despite the crappiness of the sound quality, something that wasn’t crappy was us.