There were only five minutes until the bell rang and Wyatt had yet to show up at my locker. What was his deal? I had to walk all the way across the building and up a flight of stairs. If he didn’t arrive in the next minute, I was leaving.
I shut my locker door and watched my phone’s time like a hawk, literally counting down the seconds. When the minute was over, I looked both ways in the hallway, then headed toward my class. He seriously couldn’t bother to do what he said?
Maybe that was why he had such a hard time with his grades. He was unreliable. Great grades meant studying and paying attention … always. Not whenever he felt like it.
The door to my classroom was in view. I managed to sneak in and grab a seat before the bell rang. My books for class were arranged to optimally take notes. I needed to listen to all the information on this review sheet. We had our AP Calc test in two days and that would be a large chunk of this quarter’s grades.
Mr. Warren stood at the front of the board as he projected the answer key for the review. He would show us the answers, then we could spend the class asking questions. I planned to ask about all the ones I got wrong, just to make sure I knew how to do them.
Thankfully, I figured out early on that Mr. Warren based his tests around his reviews. They were never the same exact questions; the numbers were always different. But I could count on the type of problems showing up on the test if they showed up on the review. He never surprised us with anything that wasn’t on the review, so at least that had been helpful.
I might have really liked math and numbers, but it didn’t mean that it always came easy to me. I still had to work hard for my grades.
Why didn’t Wyatt understand that? He had to work hard too. Did he expect things to just appear for him? Even if he didn’t want to go to college after this, what did he think he could do? Just skip the last part of his senior year and no one would bat an eye?
Thank goodness we were only fake dating. I couldn’t handle being with someone who didn’t take school seriously or their job seriously. Until we graduated, we had to do school. If I ever dated anyone for real, they had to take that seriously. Otherwise, they’d be wasting my time and theirs.
I physically shook my head to control my thoughts. I couldn’t go down a spiral about Wyatt in AP Calc. I needed to pay attention. He needed to be relegated to the back burner of my mind. I was his tutor; he was my fake boyfriend. Our business arrangement was intact, and I needed it to remain that way, regardless of whether his eyelashes could land an aircraft carrier, or his teeth were white enough to blind you.
It didn’t matter.
Not at all.
* * *
The rest of the day, I received no text messages from Wyatt. My temper flared so bad it was like a sunspot affecting radio waves. He couldn’t text me? Did he have a lobotomy since we had last texted?
Because short of that or a car accident, I didn’t know if I could contain my anger.
When the bell rang signaling the end of the day, I bolted to my locker and headed to my car. No after school activities today and since Wyatt wasn’t keeping his word, I had no plans with him either.
Only, instead of the sun gleaming off my Honda Fit’s windshield, a tall broody musician leaned against it, blocking out all the light.
The straps on my bookbag dug into my shoulder as I pulled it tighter. After nothing all day, he decided to wait for me at my car?
Well, I didn’t have to listen.
I sidestepped around him to the driver’s side.
“Marley,” Wyatt said. “You can’t ignore me forever. We’re dating, remember?”
I huffed. “Fake dating and I’m not the one ignoring people.”
He raised his palms facing out to me in surrender. “That is fair. Honestly, I deserve it, but hear me out?”
I crossed my arms. “Why should I?”
“Because I had every intention of meeting you at your locker this morning.”
I glared but let him continue.
“I turned in my English paper and then went to see Mr. Andrews. He wanted to read it right then. I couldn’t leave. I barely made it to my own class in time.”
I hated that I was curious to know what both teachers said. It was easier to be angry.
“And what, your phone broke and shattered into a million pieces making it impossible to text me?”
He grimaced. “Okay, yes, I should have texted you when I had time, like at lunch to let you know, but I like explaining things in person.”
My arms relaxed slightly. “And how did it go with your teachers?”
“Good. Mr. Andrews grilled me for a few minutes. I think he was trying to see if somehow I plagiarized. Which he ultimately realized I didn’t.”
I moved a little closer. “And?”
Wyatt half smiled. “I got an A, on both. My English teacher found me at lunch to let me know.”
I whooped with glee, then remembered I was supposed to be mad. “That’s great.”
Wyatt moved closer to me. “Marley, I’m sorry. Honestly. I’m not used to checking in with other people.”
My lips twisted. What did that mean?
“I didn’t think about how you must have felt waiting for me at your locker, until I saw your face as you walked out here. I upset you when you’ve been so helpful with my school stuff.”
“Well, make sure to text me next time.”
He nodded. “I promise.”
I reached for my car handle.
“What are you doing?”
I twisted. “Driving home?”
Wyatt’s eyes widened. “You aren’t coming with me to Lucy’s? Claire requested you at every gig. You’re our good luck charm.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure I’m not and I had no idea about the gig. We haven’t exactly talked since Saturday when you left me high and dry there too.”
Wyatt winced. “I’m sorry. I forgot about a responsibility I had and left.” He batted his eyelashes playfully. “Can you forgive me?”
“That won’t work on me.” Or at least it shouldn’t have worked. Damn him. I stood firm, but the longer I gazed at his expression, the more I felt myself cracking. “Fine. I forgive you.”
“So, you’ll come to Lucy’s?”
I sighed.
“I have a date planned for before we get there too.”
My eyes squinted as I surveyed his expression. “Which one?”
“The actual name is kind of long, so I’m calling it Dessert Swap.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll explain if you get in my truck.”
My door slammed as I pushed it with one hand, then clicked the lock button on my keys. Grumbling and shuffling my feet, I walked closer to him. As I neared him, a scent I wasn’t used to filtered through my senses.
Had he put on cologne? He didn’t usually smell like that. But it smelled so good, like pine trees and something else I couldn’t name, but it suited him with his rugged musician vibe.
He held open his passenger door and waited until I was in completely before he walked around to his door.
I had been so mad before that I hadn’t noticed the eyes, but now as I sat in the front seat, I couldn’t help to notice many of the other seniors glancing in our direction as he walked to his driver’s door. Then they would dip their heads and say something as they glanced back at us.
Were they gossiping about us?
The truck lurched as Wyatt hopped in and closed the door. He eyed my expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Really, Marley? I can tell something’s up. If you really don’t want to come, I’d understand. It’s just—”
“It’s not about that. Have you noticed people are staring?”
His expression immediately shifted and relaxed. “Oh, well, that comes with the territory.”
“No, I mean staring at us. They’re ogling at us.”
He chuckled. “Is that a problem? Can goody-two shoes not be seen with me?”
“No. I just … I’ve never had anyone gossip about me. It’s weird to have all their eyes focused on me.”
“Welcome to dating a musician.”
My eyes widened. “You think they think we’re together?”
“Probably. That’s the goal, isn’t it?”
“Well, I … maybe?”
He patted my arm before putting the truck into drive. “Better get used to it. It’s only been a week. The more people see us together around town, the more they’re going to think it.”
Did I care about that? I had started this to fool Andrea. To prove her wrong. But what if other people started to buy it too?
We joined the car line.
“So, what’d you mean by dessert swap?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“The book says that we should buy our favorite dessert and then swap it to the other person.”
“Oh.”
“So, I figured we could go to West End Bakery, secretly buy our favorite dessert, then swap them.” He glanced in my direction as we moved a car length or two. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure. It’s for the book.”
An emotion flitted across his face, but I didn’t know him well enough to figure it out before it disappeared again. Was he upset with what I said? It was true though. If it was in the date book, then it was what he had to do, so even if I didn’t like it, it didn’t change anything.
“Maybe it’ll help me with my studying.”
“You need help with studying?”
“Of course. I have an AP Calc test, I want to do well. Finish the year strong.”
“When is it?”
“Wednesday.”
“Oh. Well, Lucy’s has a back room if you really wanted quiet.”
“No, it’s fine. I can work on problems while I wait for you to go on. I’m sure you have homework to do too. Oh, did you bring me the science paper?”
He nodded. “All in my bag. I’ll let you take a look when we get to Lucy’s.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
We finally escaped the parking lot and headed toward town. West End Bakery was a family shop and was in the center of Main Street. It had been decorated to make everyone feel like they stepped into a special place. Large display cases took over most of the storefront. Only a few chairs fit inside and outside of the store.
Photos of the family littered the walls. The floors were black and white checkerboard tiles. But the best part was the smell. The bakery had all kinds of desserts, ranging from pies and cakes to cannoli and cream puffs. Of course, they also made fresh bread daily. Bread bowls, baguettes, Italian bread, if it existed, they made it.
I had no idea how they had time to do it, but they did, and they easily had wait times out the door for fresh bread.
Wyatt parked his truck in the side parking lot. It would be easier to leave but made a little longer walk.
“So, we shouldn’t show each other until we’re back in the truck. We could open them and take a picture at the same time?”
“That works for me. I already know what I’m getting.”
He laughed. “Me too.”
We walked up to the front door, which he held open for me. A bell rang as we entered, then we split to opposite cases.
My all-time favorite dessert, whether it was from West End Bakery or somewhere else was Boston cream pie. It was so decadent and delicious, that I couldn’t help as my mouth watered just thinking about it.
I almost wanted to get two slices, just to ensure I had some, because West End made it right.
A woman in her mid-thirties and the granddaughter of the current owner, waited on me. Her name tag read Marsha. “What would you like?”
“A slice of Boston Cream Pie, please.”
She smiled. “Coming right up.” She took my card, then handed me a receipt. Before I knew it, she was back in front of me with a white and blue striped cardboard box. It reminded me of the poles outside of a barber shop. The twine was tied in a bow and there was a West End Bakery sticker right on top.
I thanked her again and headed back to Wyatt’s truck. He had beat me back and was already sitting inside his truck.
The aromas of the bakery followed us. It smelled heavenly.
“All set?”
I nodded.
We traded packages and agreed to open them at the same time after counting down from three.
We pulled the twine, unwinding the bow, slid it off, then pried open the sticker at the same time, then we laughed so loud, I thought bystanders could hear us.
We pulled out the desserts at the same time and placed them near us. I swiped my eyes from the tears of laughing so hard, then smiled.
“Say Boston Cream!” Wyatt shouted.
I stifled my giggle until he snapped a picture, then we stared at each other, smiling wide that my cheeks would hurt later.
“I chose Boston cream pie.”
“And I chose a Boston cream donut.”
“What are the odds? That’s seriously your favorite dessert?”
“Yes!”
“Are you sure you just didn’t hear me?”
“Nope. I was gone before you got to the case.”
“That’s too funny. Well, bon appétit!”
It was strange that out of all the desserts in the world, we had the same favorite. Even with the strangeness, I was thankful because I had stared longingly at the slice of pie, and I desperately wanted to taste that filling and eat the icing on top. The two best parts of the dish, at least in my opinion.
I took my first part of the donut, careful not to dribble any of the filling down my chin. “Ugh, this is delicious. I could eat like ten of these.”
Wyatt laughed. “I almost got myself a second one … just in case.”
I whipped around to face him. “Me too!”
“No way.”
“Yes, huh. These are addicting. What if you had chosen like a double chocolate lava cake or something? I would have cried.”
He wrinkled his nose. “No. Way too much chocolate. That is just too rich for me.”
My mouth hung agape. “That’s what I usually say.”
“I always say, can’t trust someone who likes that much chocolate.”
I giggled. “No, you don’t.”
He smiled and looked down. “No, I don’t. But I’m not all about the chocolate. Boston cream, cheesecakes, give me those all day.”
“Me too.”
“Can’t go wrong with someone who has the same sweet tooth.”
My stomach quivered at the implications. “Unless of course you have to share …”
He tilted his head. “That’s true. I suppose we’d have to share the same desserts, which could be a potential problem.” He placed his balled-up box in the cupholder, then put the truck into gear. We eased out of the parking lot and toward Lucy’s, while I slowly savored my delicious donut treat.