Saving It, Page 3

  Pass. “Cross her off.” I drop the paper onto the counter and push it toward her.

  Eden crosses Whitney Gregory off the list and adds another name to the bottom before passing the paper back to me.

  “You have names on reserve in your brain or what?”

  She smiles before grabbing a couple of chips out of the bag. “Maybe.”

  I read the list again, hating that she added Kaylie as the optional name. “I’m not going back to her.”

  “Oh, come on, Josh. You can admit you still want to be with Kaylie.” Funny, how Eden knew exactly who I was talking about.

  “But I don’t.” Not really. Well, sort of. I don’t know. Maybe? Not that I want to admit that to Eden. She’ll give me endless shit, and what’s worse, I deserve it. How many times have Kaylie and I circled around each other, gotten together, only to fizzle out fast? Too many times to mention.

  It’s embarrassing. My friends are over the two of us together. So is Eden. Hell, so is my mom.

  “Whatever.” She sounds irritated, but she’s smiling. And that annoys me. I definitely don’t want to go back to Kaylie. I don’t want to be with any girl that’s my usual type. It’s pointless, right? Because we’ll go nowhere, fast.

  “Pick them out for me.” I shove the paper toward her. “Pick a couple of names.”

  “Really?” Her eyes are sparkling, and I can tell she wants to bounce in her seat. “Are you sure you don’t want to choose?”

  “I’ll choose wrong, remember? I don’t pick right. They all lack substance.” I’m smirking, and I know I just made her feel bad.

  Good. That was my goal.

  “Not all of them lack substance…” she starts but I shake my head.

  “Pick them out. Tell me which ones you want me to talk to.” I frown. “And how exactly do you want me to talk to them, anyway?”

  “You need to text them.”

  I frown. “I rarely text anyone but my mom or my sister.”

  “Text them in Snapchat. Or send them a message on Instagram.”

  My frown forms into a smile. “You want me to slide into their DMs?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do.” Eden’s smiling, too. “Get to know them by talking first.”

  “You want me to talk to all the girls you choose?” I mean, I talk to lots of girls on a daily basis. No one can ever call me shy. But when I find one I’m interested in, I focus only on her.

  “There’s no law against talking to girls,” Eden points out, sounding frustratingly logical. “But the minute you get serious about one, you need to dump the rest. Nicely.”

  “How am I dumping them if we were never together?”

  “Good point.” Her gaze drops to my shorts, then drifts up, lingering on my chest. Holy hell, I think she’s checking me out. I’ve never caught her doing that before. “You need new clothes.”

  My ego deflates just like that. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “You’re wearing shorts and a hoodie.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You wear shorts and a hoodie, like, every single day.”

  “At least it’s not the same shorts and hoodie, right?” I laugh, but Eden doesn’t, which makes me shut up. “Fine, I’ll get new clothes. I’m due anyway. My mom was just trying to get me to go shopping, but I told her no.”

  “I’ll go shopping with you.” Her gaze settles on my head, which is weird. “You need a haircut, too.”

  Oh. That explains it. “I’ll get a haircut. With you.”

  She’s smiling. “Perfect. Let’s go Monday. I work this weekend.”

  “I’m free Monday.”

  “Great.” Eden reaches into the chip bag and pulls out a handful. “Now let’s watch a movie.”

  Chapter Three

  Eden

  “What do you think of Tana Martin?”

  Molly is sprawled across my bed, lying on her stomach, elbows propped on the mattress as she scrolls through Instagram. “I don’t really think much of her at all. Why?”

  “What do you mean by that?” I’m sitting on the floor, wrapped in my favorite PINK fleece blanket Mom got me for Christmas last year. It’s Saturday night, and since both Molly and I are boyfriend-less, we’re hanging out together.

  We’ve done this far too much lately. All those plans we made when we were juniors about our amazing senior year with the hottest boyfriends ever hasn’t happened so far.

  I’m afraid it might never happen.

  “I asked you why first.” Molly glances over her shoulder, her shrewd hazel eyes meeting mine. “As in, why are you asking me about Tana Martin?”

  “Why do you sound so defensive?”

  An irritated growl escapes my best friend, and she resumes scrolling through Instagram. “Tana Martin gave my brother a blowjob after a school dance out behind the gymnasium.”

  I gasp. “What? When?”

  Molly turns so she’s sitting on my bed, facing me. “He only just told me a few days ago. It happened during homecoming.”

  “Homecoming? That was almost a month ago.” I can barely wrap my head around someone getting a blowjob behind the school gymnasium, let alone it being Molly’s younger brother.

  “I know. But it’s not like my brother and I talk about blowjobs on a regular basis, you know?” Molly mock shivers.

  Ugh. Yeah. I don’t want my little brother Travis coming to me saying stuff like that. He’s sixteen. He’s had a regular girlfriend since the seventh grade—and not the same girl, either. He’s a total player compared to me, which makes no sense, because, ew, he’s my annoying little brother. Though I’m sure he’s had plenty of blowjobs—

  Brain bleach. I can’t even begin to think about this.

  “Tana’s a junior,” I say to take my mind off my brother.

  “Yeah, so?” Molly frowns.

  “Michael is a sophomore.”

  “He’s also a total man whore.” Molly rolls her eyes. She’s quiet and sweet and has freckles across her cheeks. She’s tiny, and everyone called her Mouse when we were in elementary school. She’s the good girl. Her brother is the bad boy, which is hilarious to me because I remember when he used to eat his boogers. And when he was in kindergarten he wet his pants for, like, two weeks straight because he was afraid to use the bathroom.

  Seriously.

  “What about Marin Herzig?” I ask Molly, keeping my voice casual. She’s going to get suspicious about my questions. She always does.

  “What about her?”

  “Do you think she’s cool?” I sit up straight, snapping my fingers. “And what about Taylyr Howard? She’s nice, and cute. Though she’s super competitive.” Taylyr plays volleyball, basketball, and softball. To call her super competitive is probably an understatement.

  Molly frowns. “Why are you asking me about these girls?”

  I press my lips together, thinking of my promise to Josh. I’m not supposed to tell anyone I’m helping him find someone to lose his virginity to. Not even Molly. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about them lately.”

  “And the reason you’ve been thinking about them is…”

  “No reason.” I shrug. “I just was.”

  Molly peers at me, like she’s trying to see inside my mind, my soul, whatever. She does that a lot. Sometimes I wonder if I make zero sense to her. She’s logical and methodical and all of those “cal” words where I’m not. I’m not dumb, not by a long shot, but sometimes I can be flighty and impulsive, which is a total contradiction considering my love for all things related to organization. “Are you trying to tell me something, Eden?”

  I’m frowning. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you interested in these girls? Like interested interested?”

  “What? No. Not at all.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’m not into girls. You’d think Molly would know this by now, considering how long we’ve been friends. “Fine, I’m trying to help Josh.”

  Molly makes a face. She and Josh
are friends, but not as close as Josh and I. And there has been…jealousy between the three of us over the years. Molly’s jealous of Josh. Josh is jealous of Molly. It’s understandable yet annoying. “Help Josh with what?”

  I can’t tell her the truth. If he found out that Molly knew, he’d never trust me again. “Find a new girlfriend.”

  “Oh, whatever.” Molly waves a hand, dismissing my words. “Tell him to go back to Kaylie. He always does eventually.”

  Ugh. No way. “I’m not telling him that. He needs to find someone new.”

  “He doesn’t need any help. He always manages to convince a girl to go out with him. How I’m not sure,” Molly mumbles, making me shake my head. She must be feeling extra anti-Josh tonight. “Hey, I have a good idea. Why don’t you help me find a boyfriend?”

  Uh-oh. Molly is notoriously picky. And known for keeping the boys she’s interested in a big fat secret, including from me. “Like you’d let me.”

  “I’d let you help me now.” Molly’s face brightens. “I need a date to winter formal.”

  “So do I,” I mutter. Why did I think I’d have an amazingly hot boyfriend my senior year again? I was being totally unrealistic. There are no amazingly hot boys in my class.

  Well, that’s a lie. There are some. They’re just all taken. Or they’re one of my best friends. Because yes, I can admit it: Josh is hot. He has a nice body. He played football. He’s currently playing basketball. He’s super competitive like Taylyr Howard, which means they might make a perfect couple…

  “We can help each other out, Eden. Surely between the two of us, we could each come up with a decent date,” Molly continues.

  This isn’t a bad idea, even though I have my hands full with Josh and the list. Now I’m going to have to find someone for Molly, too? And for myself?

  I wanted to play matchmaker but not turn it into a full-time job.

  “Are you crushing on anyone in particular?” I ask.

  “Please. We don’t crush on boys anymore. We’re too old for that.” Molly likes to act like she’s extremely mature and above it all. I think this is why she has a hard time finding a boyfriend. She expects too much out of them when really, boys are pretty simple—and the majority of them are still immature. At least the ones I know. I like Josh and all his friends, but most of the time they act like they’re twelve years old when they get together.

  That is so not Molly’s style.

  “Okay, let me rephrase.” I clear my throat. “Are you liking anyone lately, Molly, my darling?”

  Molly laughs. “Not anyone in particular. Not really.”

  See what I mean? Even if she does like someone, she won’t tell me until she makes it really obvious and usually by then, it’s too late. Molly’s biggest problem? She plays it as if she doesn’t like a boy, even when she really does. And he might even like her, too—this has happened more than once—yet she acts like they’re just friends or she makes fun of him or whatever, and then he moves on. Because he doesn’t believe he has a chance with Molly.

  It’s almost like she’s subconsciously sabotaging herself.

  “Really? So you like no one?”

  “How about you?” She’s a master at changing the subject, as am I when I want to avoid a particular topic.

  I shrug. “I’ve known them all too long, I think. I’m over it.”

  “Fiona’s going to a frat party Monday night.” Molly’s eyes sparkle. Fiona is Molly’s older sister. She’s a sophomore at the local university, and on very rare occasions, she’s taken us to a college party. And when I say rare, I mean super rare. As in, she’s taken us to one party.

  Yeah. One.

  “She won’t take us.”

  “She doesn’t have to. We can just go. I know which frat is having the party.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t bogus?” I ask. “We’re all on Thanksgiving break.”

  “It’s some annual party they have for the students who stay on campus during the break, and for the locals. I remember Fi going last year.” Molly bounces on the bed, making the box spring squeak. “Come on, Eden. Let’s go. It’ll be fun.”

  “I don’t know.” I sort of love the idea of meeting college guys. Someone different, someone I don’t know, someone older and gorgeous and not some boy I went to school with for twelve years straight. “I have plans on Monday. And I work tomorrow—the closing shift.”

  We live in a small coastal town that thrives on tourism. As in, the tourists are out in force right now for Thanksgiving break. I work at a tiny gift shop downtown, right by the pier, which means it’s extra busy with people from out of town soaking up the salt air while buying ugly sweatshirts and overpriced trinkets. It’s a fun job, but I worked today, and it was exhausting. Tomorrow will be more of the same.

  “You work tomorrow, Eden, not Monday. Geez, you sound like an old lady. Who do you have plans with?”

  “Josh.” Should I suggest he come to the party with us? Nah, Molly will hate that. “I’m helping him shop for new clothes.”

  Molly makes a face. “That’ll take, what? A couple of hours in the afternoon with you holding Joshy’s hand while he picks out more hoodies and basketball shorts? Big deal.” Now she’s smiling. “We’re so going.”

  “What if Fiona doesn’t want us to come with her?”

  “Screw Fiona.” Molly stands on my bed and starts jumping. The box spring is really squeaking now. “We’ll crash the party, like anyone cares.”

  Her enthusiasm is catching. I stand and join her on the bed, grabbing hold of her hands before I start jumping, too. If my dad caught us, he’d be furious. “Let’s get dressed up.”

  “And curl our hair.”

  “I’ll do a cat eye on you.” I’ve watched a lot of makeup tutorials on YouTube over the years. I can do an excellent cat eye. Adele would be jealous.

  “I’ll bust out the contouring kit.” Molly has watched a lot of makeup tutorials, too.

  “We’re gonna look hot,” I say just before I drop butt-first on the mattress. I bounce so hard I practically fall off. I start giggling and so does Molly and the next thing I know, we’re both on the floor laughing hysterically.

  Guess I’ll focus on finding Josh a girl tomorrow.

  Or Monday. Yeah, Monday.

  …

  Josh

  “Why am I over here this early again?”

  I toss the basketball in Abraham’s direction, and he catches it with ease before aiming for the basket. He misses. Ha. “Because we need to work on our shots.”

  Obviously.

  “It’s Sunday morning.” Abraham dribbles the ball. We’re playing in my driveway. Dad put up a basketball hoop above the garage door for my older brother, when I was just a baby. I’ve used it a lot growing up. It’s like the only thing I still have that reminds me of him.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “The Sunday before Thanksgiving, and we have no school all week.” Abraham makes a face.

  “We still have practice,” I point out. Coach is fanatical about practice, even on holidays. Can’t blame him. We’re both on the varsity basketball team, and we have the potential for a great season. Our first game is next week, and he wants us fully prepped.

  Abraham takes the shot again, and this time he’s successful. “It’s ten o’clock in the morning. I should still be in bed.”

  “I didn’t force you to come over.” I take the ball from him and make my own shot. I’m taller, and I’m better at completing three pointers. Abraham is only a couple of inches shorter than me, but he’s fast and can steal a ball like nobody else.

  “True.” To prove my point, he steals the ball from my hands and throws another shot. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

  “What about?” I grab the ball and throw it against the garage door, the metal clanging. Mom spent the night at her boyfriend’s house so there’s no one around to tell me to stop. And for some reason, I like the noise the door makes every time the ball hits it. It’s loud and annoying yet also…satisfy
ing.

  “Personal shit,” Abraham says right before I pass him the ball, and he throws it against the garage door, too, then turns his grin on me. “Remember how pissed your mom used to get when we did that?”

  “She’s not here to get pissed, so let’s keep doing it.” Moments like these, it feels like Abe and I are still thirteen and annoying as hell.

  We bounce the ball off the garage door for a few minutes, enjoying that satisfying rattling sound, until we both get bored. I grab the ball and hold it, my gaze meeting Abraham’s. “What sort of personal shit did you want to talk about?”

  “This is awkward.” Abraham runs a hand through his spiky black hair, looking away. “I want your opinion on…someone.”

  “Someone?”

  “Yeah. A someone you know very well, who you’re close to.”

  Unease slips down my spine. “Who exactly are you talking about?”

  “Freaking Eden.” He sighs and runs both hands through his hair now, tugging on the ends. “I think I like her.”

  “What? No way.” They don’t really like each other. Abraham is my closest friend beyond Eden. Their relationship is sort of like mine and Molly’s. We tolerate each other. Sometimes, we get along great. But most of the time, we snap at each other or sling insults. I would never admit it out loud, but I get jealous of all the time Molly spends with Eden. And I think Abraham feels the same way about Eden stealing me away from him, too.

  Or so I thought.

  “Way.” Abraham nods, looking miserable. “I’ve liked her for months. Since school started.”

  “I’m having a hard time believing this.” When he sends me a confused look, I continue. “You two hate each other.”

  “Hate is a really strong word, my friend.”

  “Fine, you despise each other. Strongly dislike each other. Whatever.”

  “I did. I used to. But then she started to grow on me. And something happened over the summer, because now I can’t stop thinking about her,” Abraham admits, kicking at a stray piece of bark and sending it back into the nearby flower bed.

  “You’ve been thinking about her since the summer?” Like, I am seriously having a difficult time wrapping my head around this. Eden and…Abraham? If I told her he liked her, she’d laugh. I know she would.