Page 13 of The Boy Next Door

A date isn't exactly the most low-key situation. There's pressure to act interesting and attractive. But there's no relaxing afterward. Because then comes figuring out the next steps and sharing the details.

Since I shared few specifics over text, it isn't surprising when Maggie and Clay ambush me at my locker on Monday morning.

"The date was either spectacular or abysmal," Maggie concludes, watching me carefully.

"He's kinda twitchy and nervous," Clay notes. "But that's normal."

I raise my hands and shoo them from my personal bubble. Maybe I should have shared more over text, because I feel under a microscope now and don’t know what to say when they watch me so closely, desperate for details.

"It went... pretty well." I’m not really sure how to explain the happy feeling in my chest. "I think."

"Ouch." Clay winces. "That sucks."

"What? It went well!" Okay, maybe 'pretty well' isn't a ringing endorsement. "I had fun, even if the start was miserable."

"Hey, it happens." Clay pats me on the back. "I'm sure you weren't that bad."

"Plus, it was your first date," Maggie reasons. "Who cares if you weren't perfect?"

Should I be offended?

"No, he's the reason it started badly." They both clearly doubt this. "I'm serious, he even apologized . He never even did that after pushing me into the pond."

Wow, not only did I go on a date with somebody who once pushed me into a pond, I enjoyed a date with that guy. Thinking back on everything, I can't keep a smile off my face.

"Wait, what does this mean for Dylan?"

The smile vanishes. "No, no more questions please."

"One more," Clay says, but I'm already walking away. "Did you guys kiss again?"

I freeze, face heating and hoping nobody else heard him.

"Come on!" he begs from behind me. "Nod, shake your head. Give us a sign."

No, I can't answer. I keep walking away instead.

~

There are rules, right? Date rules. They establish when you're supposed to text or call, how to avoid being too eager. So, I’m not upset that Hunter hasn’t called or texted. Or even left a note in the pond or walked over.

I’ve been struggling not to reach out either, trying to wait the right amount of time even though I’m not completely sure how much time that is.

When I see Hunter taking the family trash bin out on Tuesday morning, I'm not sure how to act. I'm surprised he's even up. He must have something to do because he's also dressed.

Curiosity wins out.

"Did you get new drums?" I speak to his back as he places the garbage at the curb.

"What?"

"The drumsticks, you…" Oh, they're in his back pocket. I just incriminated myself as someone looking at his... back pocket. Which he will jump on and fluster me for incessantly.

Yet he only frowns as he turns to me and pulls out the drumsticks, staring as if they're some big mystery. "Huh, force of habit, I guess."

"What happened to your old drums anyway?"

It's an innocent question, but…

"Nothing." Any openness on his face slams closed.

"Then why didn't you bring them back?"

"Ran out of room."

While there's no way a space issue caused him to leave behind his most prized possession, he's clearly done sharing with me. He reminds me more of Hunter at the beginning of our date than the end, and it hurts more than I'm expecting.

I hope for an innocent explanation that has nothing to do with me. "Are you not a morning person?"

"No, morning doesn't bother me."

"But I am? Is everything okay?"

"Fine."

"Did I do something wrong?" I whisper.

"No."

“Did something change?”

He grimaces. “You could say that.” Before I can ask more, he holds up a hand and shakes his head. “Nope, not playing 20 questions with you.”

Clenching my fists, I fight the urge to scream, pout, or act totally embarrassing. "You're kinda being a jerk again."

His mouth tightens. "I have my reasons. Just drop it, okay?"

Waiting, no other answer is forthcoming. I watch him for a sign of... anything. He's in ratty jeans with a hole at one knee, and I can see it jump as his leg bounces. His white t-shirt clings to his arm muscles as the hand holding the drumsticks taps out an idle rhythm on his thigh.

"Should I yell at you until you talk?" It worked last time.

His rhythm falters, he realizes he's still holding the sticks, and tucks them back into his pocket. "There's nothing to say."

Maybe I should feel happy about this development... it’s my ticket out. I tried, I gave him a chance. No one can say I didn’t. And now I can get away without feeling guilty.

"So that's it?" I say, not remotely happy. "For us?"

"I don't know." Why can't he give a clear answer?

"What does that mean?”

"I don’t know.”

Oh my god. “How can you not know? You’re the one who said it."

“I don’t know means I don’t know,” he says. “Are we done here?”

“How should I know? I have no idea what’s going on.”

And I thought Hunter Cruse was annoying when we were kids.

This takes it to a whole new level. First he takes me on the worst date and then turns it into the best date and now he’s acting so freaking short with me that I have to squint to see him down there, but he isn’t telling me he wants nothing to do with me.

Why sorta keep the door open? Why not put us both out of our misery?

"See ya," he says as he walks away.

Something definitely changed. He admitted as much, even if getting a clear answer was impossible. I have no idea what went wrong. We hadn’t even seen each other since the date. What could have changed? And how can I find out when he’s not telling me?

Though I spend a few minutes wracking my brain for an explanation, maybe the answer is simple. What if Hunter just doesn’t like me after all?

~

"About you and Hunter," Maggie begins at lunch the next day.

"Ugh, can I plead temporary insanity and never talk about it again?"

"Absolutely not," Clay answers immediately.

"I think he's actually worse than he used to be." I stare down at the wilted lettuce of my cobb salad. "It sucks I didn't realize sooner, but him finding a note not meant for him doesn't change anything."

Maggie and Clay exchange a glance before she addresses me. "Sweetie, what happened? Yesterday, you were over the moon and so dreamy-eyed, but today you hate him?"

"Yep." That about sums it up.

"We're gonna need more." Her long hair is perfectly straightened and held in place with a thin magenta headband, the same shade as her spacers.

"Okay, yes, there was a moment there I almost liked him," I admit, hanging my head. "Until he did a total 180 back to the major jerk who hates me."

"Oh honey, I'm sorry." She offers up her extra slice of pizza when I push my salad away. "Do you want this?"

No, doesn't sound good either.

"I'd rather forget this whole thing,” I say. “Have we forgotten my monster crush on Dylan?"

"No, but—"

"It doesn't matter," I interrupt. "Yes, Dylan has a girlfriend. It won't be easy, but I know for sure I like him. Hunter is just confusing, and my heart can't handle his hot and cold act. It... it really sucks."

"Sorry."

"That sucks, man."

Oh, I expected some resistance. "Really, that's all?"

"We support you." Maggie reaches out to me across the table. "It does sound rough."

I take the comfort for a second. "Yeah."

We resume eating in silence. Or they do. I poke a plastic fork in my fruit cup, not interested in the sad slices of peaches and a lone cherry.

"Okay, I have to ask," Clay blurts out. "Did you kiss at the end of the date?"

Oh god. Moment of truth.

"No," I admit. "Not really. Only a peck on the cheek."

"Ah." He tries to hide it, but I catch his expression.

"I should have seen it coming, huh?" I wonder. I thought the kiss on the cheek meant something at the time, but it looks like I translated its definition incorrectly.

Taking my fruit cup, he delivers the blow softly. "How I see it, if he doesn't wanna shove his tongue down your throat at the end of the night, he never will."

"Or he's a gentleman."

It's a weak explanation nobody believes, not even me as I speak. Hunter Cruse being a gentleman sounds laughable. Why did I believe it when he dropped me off?

I have no idea what spell I fell under that night or why everything changed afterwards, but I know one thing. This is the end for me. It must be. The Hunter Cruse roller coaster ride is way too much for me. Time to get off while I still can.