there?” I only shake my head and say, “No, Skinny Cow Fudge Bars. They’re low-fat.”
Okay, why, exactly, did I feel the need to say that?
Blaine gives me an appraising look, one that goes from the tips of my ears to my toes and back. “Well, the low-fat is working, Dee-Dee.”
Of course he would say this. Heaven forbid I should have any extra pounds on me. I think of all the times he’d order Big Macs for himself and salads for me. And why is Blaine trying to have a conversation, anyway? I say nothing as he taps the counter a few times and then strolls to the cooler for a Coke and a Diet Coke. Is the diet for Sabrina? Does he always buy it for her whether she wants it or not, like he always bought it for me?
Hold on. Why do I care?
Thankfully, the door opens again and Jake walks in, fresh from the bathhouse with his sandy blond hair hanging in damp curls. His pace slows when he sees who is with me, but he still politely says, “Hey, how’s it going, Blaine?”
Blaine doesn’t respond. He only gives Jake an amused smirk and pulls his wallet from his pocket. I pound the price of the sodas into the register, remembering how Blaine would blow off guys at school who came from blue-collar families, like Jake. How dare he? Jake might be a jerk sometimes, but he’s the campground’s jerk. My jerk.
An idea comes to my mind. A Superflirt idea.
I wink at Jake before dropping Blaine’s change in his hand. Most of it falls to the counter, but I pretend not to notice and give Jake my very best hair toss instead. “Hey, sweetheart, I was missing you!”
Please catch on, Jake, please catch on!
He catches on. Oh, boy, does he catch on. A grin sweeps across his face. He rests an elbow on the counter and uses his other hand to graze my forearm. “Well, hello there, Babykins. I was missing you, too.”
Babykins? Okay, roll with it. “No, I missed you, Pumpkin Breath.”
“No! I missed you , Fuzzy Peach Bottoms.”
Blaine’s face darkens as we banter back and forth, our terms of endearment becoming more and more ridiculous. He angrily pockets his change and grabs the sodas. “Well, guess I’ll see you later.”
Jake turns as though distracted. “Huh? You say something, dude?”
I rip my adoring gaze away long enough to say, “What? Oh. Later, Blaine!”
After he stalks out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the deer antlers on the wall, we burst out laughing. “Fuzzy Peach Bottoms, are you serious, Jake?”
“Pumpkin Breath? Oh, yeah, that’s a surefire way to win over the fellows,” Jake says before grabbing a Snickers from the candy display. He throws a dollar on the counter. “Man, he’s such a loser. What did you ever see in him, anyway, Dee?”
I’m not sure.
No, that isn’t true. I know exactly what I saw in Blaine, and for some reason, I want Jake to know as well. “At first, he reminded me of my father because he was so charming and charismatic,” I say, turning to the photograph of Dad on the file cabinet. “You would have loved my father, Jake. Everyone did. If your engine blew up the day before a race, he’d be in the garage with you all night long until it was fixed, you know? So when Blaine asked me out after he died, I guess I … You know. And now—”
My throat tightens. Don’t cry, don’t cry . I pick up Jake’s dollar instead, absentmindedly folding it into a small square. Jake leans closer, the softness in his voice startling me. “And now you’re still not over him, right?”
Is that what he thinks, that I miss Blaine?
“No, not right. He’s nothing like my father. Blaine always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, so I am over him. But even though I know better—really know better—seeing him makes me feel horrible all over again.”
“That’s bull, you’re plenty good enough, Dee,” Jake says, opening his candy bar and breaking off a piece for me. “Great, even, and you know what? We should go out there, dance up a storm, and show Blaine
Okay, why, exactly, did I feel the need to say that?
Blaine gives me an appraising look, one that goes from the tips of my ears to my toes and back. “Well, the low-fat is working, Dee-Dee.”
Of course he would say this. Heaven forbid I should have any extra pounds on me. I think of all the times he’d order Big Macs for himself and salads for me. And why is Blaine trying to have a conversation, anyway? I say nothing as he taps the counter a few times and then strolls to the cooler for a Coke and a Diet Coke. Is the diet for Sabrina? Does he always buy it for her whether she wants it or not, like he always bought it for me?
Hold on. Why do I care?
Thankfully, the door opens again and Jake walks in, fresh from the bathhouse with his sandy blond hair hanging in damp curls. His pace slows when he sees who is with me, but he still politely says, “Hey, how’s it going, Blaine?”
Blaine doesn’t respond. He only gives Jake an amused smirk and pulls his wallet from his pocket. I pound the price of the sodas into the register, remembering how Blaine would blow off guys at school who came from blue-collar families, like Jake. How dare he? Jake might be a jerk sometimes, but he’s the campground’s jerk. My jerk.
An idea comes to my mind. A Superflirt idea.
I wink at Jake before dropping Blaine’s change in his hand. Most of it falls to the counter, but I pretend not to notice and give Jake my very best hair toss instead. “Hey, sweetheart, I was missing you!”
Please catch on, Jake, please catch on!
He catches on. Oh, boy, does he catch on. A grin sweeps across his face. He rests an elbow on the counter and uses his other hand to graze my forearm. “Well, hello there, Babykins. I was missing you, too.”
Babykins? Okay, roll with it. “No, I missed you, Pumpkin Breath.”
“No! I missed you , Fuzzy Peach Bottoms.”
Blaine’s face darkens as we banter back and forth, our terms of endearment becoming more and more ridiculous. He angrily pockets his change and grabs the sodas. “Well, guess I’ll see you later.”
Jake turns as though distracted. “Huh? You say something, dude?”
I rip my adoring gaze away long enough to say, “What? Oh. Later, Blaine!”
After he stalks out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the deer antlers on the wall, we burst out laughing. “Fuzzy Peach Bottoms, are you serious, Jake?”
“Pumpkin Breath? Oh, yeah, that’s a surefire way to win over the fellows,” Jake says before grabbing a Snickers from the candy display. He throws a dollar on the counter. “Man, he’s such a loser. What did you ever see in him, anyway, Dee?”
I’m not sure.
No, that isn’t true. I know exactly what I saw in Blaine, and for some reason, I want Jake to know as well. “At first, he reminded me of my father because he was so charming and charismatic,” I say, turning to the photograph of Dad on the file cabinet. “You would have loved my father, Jake. Everyone did. If your engine blew up the day before a race, he’d be in the garage with you all night long until it was fixed, you know? So when Blaine asked me out after he died, I guess I … You know. And now—”
My throat tightens. Don’t cry, don’t cry . I pick up Jake’s dollar instead, absentmindedly folding it into a small square. Jake leans closer, the softness in his voice startling me. “And now you’re still not over him, right?”
Is that what he thinks, that I miss Blaine?
“No, not right. He’s nothing like my father. Blaine always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, so I am over him. But even though I know better—really know better—seeing him makes me feel horrible all over again.”
“That’s bull, you’re plenty good enough, Dee,” Jake says, opening his candy bar and breaking off a piece for me. “Great, even, and you know what? We should go out there, dance up a storm, and show Blaine
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