The Break-Up Artist

24

According to the website HuxleyandSteveCountdown [dot] com, Huxley and Steve have three-to-one odds to break up in the next month, seven-to-one odds to break up in the next week, and twelve-to-one odds that they’ve already broken up but are keeping it a secret. The site has become an obsession at Ashland, with anonymous posts speculating about their demise.

“Don’t people have anything better to do with their time?” Huxley asks me on the phone.

I multitask between playing the friend role and getting ready. I pose in front of my mirror wearing a cerulean one-shoulder dress that falls just above my knees. Who knew I could put myself together so well? “Just ignore it. They’re all jealous that their lives aren’t as interesting as yours.”

“Why are people cheering for the destruction of my relationship?”

“Because you’re popular and they’re ugly.” I hook in dangly earrings. “Why are you letting it bother you?”

“I’m not,” she says, but I sense hesitation in her voice. The gossip and rumors have infiltrated her mind. “Steve told me nothing’s going on with Angela. He says that stuff in his car was planted.”

“You should believe him. He wouldn’t lie to you.” I paint my lips with my Plumful lipstick.

“You’re right.” She tries to mask her worry and play it off like it’s a stupid joke. I can’t give her peace of mind, not if I want my plan to succeed. But when I think about it, I don’t have peace of mind to give. I don’t know if I buy the coincidence that Steve randomly bumped into Angela at the skating rink. Sure, lots of kids’ birthday parties take place there, but it seems too convenient.

“Do you know why he and Angela broke up in the first place?” I ask. “Do you really think it was distance?”

“Steve says things just didn’t work out. But that’s guys. No specifics.” I’m surprised he gave her that much explanation. “Do you think Steve’s cheating?” Huxley asks me quietly, and I can only imagine how tough that was for her to say out loud.

“I don’t think so.” I don’t sound convincing. I fan my hair out. It falls down my face in waves. Another great trick Huxley taught me. “Do you?”

“No. Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I looked up Colin Baker on Facebook, and he is good-looking. Tall, athletic, smart, full brown hair, wire-frame glasses and a killer smile. Guys like this shouldn’t statistically exist. They shouldn’t be single ever. And they shouldn’t be interested in me.

My phone buzzes with a text from Val. You busy tonight?

And then my stomach squeezes into a tight ball.

I spent Friday dodging Val in school. When she came up to me after Latin, I bolted for SDA practice, where I avoided Ezra’s stare. But halfway through my routine, I realized that nothing had actually happened. We had one semiserious conversation where we got a little emotional, and we were tired. It was a long day. No big deal. It passed. There’s nothing more to read into it. He’s dating my best friend, and they’re happy.

Happyish.

Still, to be sure, I didn’t talk to him after practice.

“So where is Colin taking you?” Huxley asks.

“Windows on the Water.” The restaurant is perched on stilts on the Hudson River overlooking the New York skyline. I checked out their menu online and gulped when I saw the prices.

“That will be so romantic.” Huxley sighs heavily. “The beginning of a relationship is always the most exciting. I remember when Steve and I got together. There was a party at Travis Weber’s. Steve and I sat on one of those wicker porch benches outside, drinking Coke. He gave me his jacket to make sure I stayed warm. ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ was playing inside the house. We were talking about the differences between our school and his old school. You know, that mindless chatter that neither person cares about because you know you’re going to kiss any second. And then a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash fell out of his pocket.”

“Real suave, Steve.”

“Then there was a century-long awkward moment, and it hit me. I am going to get kissed. My life is going to change. I picked it up and asked, ‘So what’s this for?’ Then he kissed me, and I just knew.”

“You knew that you were in love with him?” I ask. I roll my eyes.

“Yes. I didn’t know it was love at the time, but I knew it was something.”

That something was a gargantuan leap in her social standing at the expense of our friendship. I didn’t know about the mouthwash story. I had heard about their hookup at Travis’s party secondhand. Not from her, of course. Does she really not remember what her life was like when they began dating? Has she suppressed it so completely that she honestly doesn’t remember what she did to me? I keep these thoughts to myself. I’m so close. Once I break up her and Steve, I can fill in the gaps of her revisionist history.

The doorbell rings, and my heart jumps for some strange reason. This is just research, with food involved.

“Did I just hear a doorbell?” Huxley asks.

“You did.” I peek out my window and see a guy in a blazer and jeans. I check myself once again in the mirror and take a deep breath.

“Come with me to Chris Gomberg’s party tomorrow night. Prepare to be grilled in the car ride over,” she says. “Good luck!”

“You, too. I hope everything works out with Steve.” I hang up and jog down the stairs, which can be deadly in heels.

“Have fun tonight,” Diane says. She leans on the banister with a bowl of popcorn nestled in her arm. “Try not to get pregnant.”

“Thanks.”

The doorbell rings again. I’m about to answer it when Diane pulls me back and scans my face.

“Don’t get too excited, B. It’s just a first date, and I can tell you how they end.”

I open the door. Colin Baker flashes his dimpled smile. I didn’t know those people in catalogs existed in the wild until now.

“You must be Becca,” Colin Baker says. Even his voice is cute. “Nice to meet you.”

I bite into the best salmon I’ve ever eaten while gazing at a luminous New York skyline. Meanwhile, a guy bursting with charm and good looks engages me in conversation about my life and seems genuinely interested. Can a Friday night get any better? No.

Then why do I feel bored?

“Curling?” he asks in disbelief.

“It’s like shuffleboard on ice.” I take a sip of my Diet Coke. “It’s big in Canada.”

He lets out a hearty laugh.

“Have you ever been to Canada? I once went skiing at Whistler in British Columbia. It was probably the nicest place I’ve ever been to.”

“Nicer than New Jersey?” I ask.

“Let’s call New Jersey a close second.” Hearty laugh again. It’s yet another adorable part of Colin Baker.

I glance at the skyline again and try to count how many buildings I see. Colin Baker is the textbook definition of great-boyfriend material. He would meet any girl’s criteria. I should be kissing Huxley’s feet for fixing me up with him, not tallying skyscrapers. But the thing is, Colin Baker knows a little bit about a lot of things, but he can’t go in-depth on a topic. It amounts to pleasant small talk.

Or maybe this is what dates are like—a test to see if two people are compatible enough to transition into a relationship.

My ears perk up when Colin brings up Steve. Their families are friends, and the two have spent many semi-important holidays together. He tells me about fond memories of one-on-one basketball and Steve’s impeccable barbecue skills. Steve seems like a good friend to have, popularity reasons aside.

“That’s great that your colleges are near each other,” I say. Colin is attending Drexel University in Philadelphia in the fall. I’m sure the admissions office swooned over him. “Are you excited that Steve’s going to Vermilion?”

Colin gets an uneasy look and takes a sip of water. “It’ll be great to see him.”

He cuts himself off, but I gather he’d be willing to elaborate if I played it right.

“Yeah. It’s a shame he’s not playing football there. He’s such a great athlete. I know Chandler University is still interested.”

“They are?” Colin asks. He puts down his fork. “His family would love that.”

“Really? They’re not happy about Vermilion?” I ask in my most naive voice. “But it’s a good school, and close by.”

“And expensive. His parents can’t afford it, and my dad heard that they aren’t offering him a scholarship.”

“He can take out loans.”

“He’ll be drowning in debt until he’s forty. Truth is, Huxley’s family can pay for it no problem. They’re loaded.” He jams a piece of steak into his mouth.

“Have they offered?” I sit at the edge of my chair. The candle on the table gives Colin an earthy glow.

“Not that I know of. Steve would be furious if she did.”

“She’d be trying to help.”

“But he’d be like their property. He already feels self-conscious being around the Mapothers. That would strip away his pride.”

The waiter arrives with a fresh Diet Coke for me. I let him take away my plate. That’s the most passionate Colin Baker has been tonight. Maybe I’m not the only one who wants to break up Huxley and Steve.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He readjusts his glasses. “I like Huxley. I do. I shouldn’t have said anything. What can I say? You’re easy to talk to.” His lip curls up slightly when he smiles. Cute. Add it to the list.

“I get that a lot.”

Colin swirls his water glass around and gazes at me. “You are beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Want to go for a walk after dinner?”

We stroll along the Hudson holding hands, and we’re not the only pair here. It’s a parade of couples. New York glows in the moonlight, so peaceful from our viewpoint. This must be what every girl dreams of for a first date, so why do I still feel bored?

I want to kick myself for not floating on air. Maybe people melt over these empty motions because it’s one step closer to being in a relationship, and I just know better. Colin is doing everything right, but it just seems like the logical order of a first date. I should feel nervous-excited, but instead, I’m just nervous.

Colin stops at a bench next to a magnifying viewer where I can see the city up close. He leans on it while I look into a window on the Chrysler building. “Have you ever seen the Chrysler Building up close?”

“I haven’t.”

This all seems like a setup from some romantic comedy. I’m by no means a date expert, but I see how things are lining up. The dinner, the walk, the quiet area.

And next up is the kiss.

I’m on a roller coaster, and we’re slowing cranking toward the top. I think I’m having a heart attack.

C’mon, Becca. You should be enjoying this. Where are the freaking butterflies? I stare at Colin’s disarming smile. Maybe if I concentrate, I can feel what he’s feeling. Is he really feeling this? With me?

“You all right?” he asks. He holds my hand for support.

“Yes.”

He’s holding my hand!

Next stop: kiss. If we kiss, then we’ll have to see each other again, and if we go on another date, he’ll ask me to be his girlfriend, and then I’ll be locked into being his girlfriend for who knows how long. Isn’t that how it works? I know we’re outside but somehow there are still walls and they are closing in on me and I am locked inside a tiny box with Colin Baker.

I return to the viewer. I stare intently at the Chrysler Building for a good minute. I can’t make eye contact. If I do, the roller coaster is going to teeter over.

“The city is so beautiful, I could gaze at it for hours,” he says. That better be an expression. “Wow, you really like the Chrysler Building.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty. I’ve only seen it get destroyed in action movies.” I press my forehead harder against the viewer. I can feel the metal on my skull. I’ll bet Ezra could name at least five movies where the Chrysler Building got destroyed. He’d crinkle his forehead as he thought up the list, the eyes would go up and to the left....

Pull it together, Williamson. I grip the handles with the intention of never letting go.

Things go back to quiet. Until I feel his hands. Massaging my shoulders. I steel myself and think of janitors working in the Chrysler offices and those mops with the rectangular heads.

“It’s so high up,” I say.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he kisses my neck.

Make it stop! Make it stop!

No, Becca. You stop. This guy is great. This is what you want. Why are you resisting Colin Baker?

He caresses my fingers. No, not caressing. He’s trying to unhook them from the handles. He’s trying to turn me around.

The roller coaster is cranking higher. I can see the top.

I keep my fingers strapped on the handles. It’ll be over soon. He’ll give up. I am such a terrible person.

He reverts to massaging my shoulders. I can’t talk. My throat is closed for business. I fear that anything I say will be a trigger to kissing.

“Relax,” he whispers into my ear.

“I am.” My voice shoots up three hundred octaves. We’re talking castrato levels.

“What’s wrong? Is there someone else?”

“What? No!” I jerk around to face him, and my elbow makes contact.

Colin Baker holds his adorable hands over his adorable face and gawks at me with those adorable eyes.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

He pulls back his hands. Even his bloody nose is adorable.