On Thursday night I parked my car in front of Zach’s house and checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. Super-curled lashes? Check. More eyeliner than I’ve ever worn in my life? Check. Bright red lips that it was taking all my willpower not to wipe off on the back of my hand? Check.
If this was the kind of girl Zach wanted, this was the kind of girl I’d give him.
For one night, at least.
I took a deep breath and screwed up my courage. I had to do this. The last few days had been torture. No matter how many pep talks I’d given myself, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Melanie had said and wondering what it meant. I was tense all the time at school watching Zach and his friends, wondering what they were talking about—if they knew something I didn’t. Every time Zach kissed me, I froze up, then realized I was freezing up and tried to relax.
Everything is fine, I kept telling myself. Melanie Faison is a liar and a jerk, and she was just trying to get under your skin.
Well, score one for Melanie. Because it worked.
But, little did she know, I was not going to back down that easily. Maybe she had beaten me in our first match of the season, but I was not going to let her beat me at this. This was far more important. This was Zach. He was mine, and I was going to keep him. If I had to fight fire with fire, then so be it.
So here I was, dressed all sexy and ready to give Zach the night of his life.
I got out of the car and straightened the tight skirt of my new, low-cut dress. Zach’s parents were out of town on a business trip for a couple of nights, so I knew no one was home, but I still felt self-conscious as I teetered up the walk in my three-inch heels. I had to be six feet tall in these things—almost as tall as Zach. Which begged the question: Did I look sexy, or did I look like a slutty giraffe?
Okay, confidence, I reminded myself as I rang the doorbell. Just…be sexy.
Two seconds later, Zach opened the door, and his jaw literally dropped.
“Hey there,” I said with a smile, putting my hands on my hips.
“Noelle?” he gasped.
I couldn’t blame him for the shock. This was completely out of character.
Okay. Now what? Images from soap operas flitted through my mind. I decided to just go for it. I placed my hands on his shoulders, shoved him inside and up against a wall of the foyer, then laid a seriously deep kiss on him. Any second now I was going to crack up laughing from the absurdity of it all. Or he was. He had to see how ridiculous this was.
Except he didn’t. In fact, he seemed to think it was absolute perfection. Zach slid his hands up and down my nearly bare back and pulled me close. I could feel that he was already, well, ready.
He ran a hand up my neck and grabbed hold of my curls. “God, you’re sexy,” he said, pulling away for a split second before trailing kisses down my neck. “Where did you get this dress? It’s so hot!”
Out of nowhere a knot welled up in my throat.
So he did like this kind of girl. This sexy temptress thing. He’d never gotten excited that fast with just little old me in my sweats on the couch.
You’re the one who decided to do this, Noelle, I told myself. You can’t get mad at him for going along with it.
“Hey. You okay?” Zach asked, looking into my blinking eyes.
I forced a smile, took his hands, and leaned back, pulling him away from the wall. I had gotten myself into it. I had to see it through.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.
Zach smiled slowly and slipped a hand back under the blanket of my hair. “I love you so much,” he said huskily.
You’d better, I thought as I led him up to his room. You’d better.
“Come on, Noelle! You can do it! Take this girl down already!” Danielle shouted at me from the bleachers at Crestwood High School.
“Let’s go, Noelle!” Zach shouted. “Look alive!”
I gripped my racket and settled into my return stance. It was Friday afternoon, and all the top tennis players had gathered at one of the local schools for a round-robin to determine our seeding for the state championships. I had easily won my first match, but this new girl, Tanya Zurich, was giving me a bit of trouble.
The worst part was I couldn’t figure out why. She wasn’t a bad player, but she wasn’t fast on her feet, and her serve speed was crap. Was I really so tired from my night with Zach that I couldn’t rally and come back against this girl?
Maybe I’d be playing better if I had been able to eat more than half a plain bagel at lunch. I knew I’d have to play two matches this afternoon. I should have tried harder to get down some protein or at least a little juice. But my stomach just didn’t want to eat, and the thought of getting sick before a game was even worse than the thought of not fueling up.
Just concentrate, I told myself. You can do this.
Tanya reached up to serve, and I held my breath. I envisioned exactly where the ball would land, and I went for it. But my timing was off, and my return shot was misplaced. It flew right to her instead of off her left foot, as I had planned. Tanya easily rocketed the ball back to the far side of the court. I ran for it, and, miraculously, my return shot made it over the net and fell like a stone. She had no chance to get there.
“Thirty, thirty,” the ref announced.
Danielle and the others went wild.
I smiled in relief. Okay. Just a few more points. I could still win this. I looked up at my friends for a jolt of support and nearly tripped. I got a jolt all right, but not the one I was hoping for.
Melanie Faison stood at one side of the bleachers in her tiny tennis skirt, looking up at Zach, who was at the end of the top row. He wasn’t looking at me, urging me on, but at her. More to the point, down at her. As in straight into her ample cleavage.
He glanced toward the court and waved at me, then shrugged as if to say, What can I do?
Tell her to go away, maybe?
Hot tears of anger blurred my sight as I turned back toward the net. He was talking to Melanie right there in front of me, during the second most important match of my season. How could Zach do this to me? Could he not stay away from her?
I glanced at Danielle. She pursed her lips in disgust. She couldn’t seem to believe this was happening either.
Tanya tossed the ball and served.
All I could see was Melanie’s curly hair bouncing as she laughed. Her big blue eyes looking up at my boyfriend covetously…
The ball whizzed right by my racket.
“Forty, thirty!” the ref shouted.
My coach groaned. I glanced at the stands. Melanie was still over there, sipping water through a straw, making the simple act look somehow dirty. And Zach was utterly entranced.
“Come on, Bairstow! Get your head into the game!” Coach shouted.
Zach looked up then, as if startled to recall where he was. “Let’s go, Noelle!” he shouted.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Forget it. Just do this.
I bounced into position and tried to look alive. Tanya reached up to serve.
Melanie giggled loudly.
The ball zoomed right for me. I reached for it, but it bounced off the rim of my racket and flew backward.
“Game! Set! Match! Zurich!” the ref shouted.
Dammit! I bent at the waist and gasped for breath, trying as hard as I could not to cry. I had never cried over losing a match, and I wouldn’t let Tanya Zurich think she’d broken me down. Especially when these tears weren’t remotely for her. I cleared my throat, straightened up, and went to shake her hand.
“Nice match,” she said.
“You, too,” I replied, my voice cracking.
Danielle barrelled way down the bleachers toward me. Coach marched over to give me her standard what-can-we-learn-from-this speech. But Zach was still talking to Melanie. He hadn’t even realized that I lost.
Saturday night I sat at the kitchen table with my family and stared at my dinner plate, totally dazed. All I had done that day was lie around, watch TV, and nap on and off. I kept blurring my eyes in and out, making my mashed potatoes go fuzzy, then focused, then fuzzy, then focused.
In my mind I played yesterday’s match with Tanya over again. If only I had won a few more points early on. If only I hadn’t been so tired, maybe I could have put her away before Melanie ever got near Zach.
But I couldn’t go back and fix it. I had to accept the fact that I had lost to a substandard player. That I had only won a four-seed for the tournament. Meanwhile Melanie had put away her two opponents with ease and was ranked number one. She had dominated two decent players and still had enough time to hook her talons into my boyfriend.
“Noelle, you should eat something,” my mother said gently.
“I’m not hungry,” I told her. My stomach constricted at the very thought.
“You look hungry,” Faith said. “You look like death, in fact.”
“Faith…” my dad scolded.
“Well, you do!” Faith said, ignoring him and ripping off a piece of her roll. “So you lost one match. Big deal. You’ll kick ass at states. And, hey, this way no one will see you coming!”
I shoved my chair away from the table. I knew Faith was only trying to help, but I just couldn’t listen to her optimism right then. “May I be excused?”
“Why?” my mother asked.
“I have to get ready for this party,” I said. “Zach’s picking me up in an hour.”
“A party?” my father asked, pausing with his water glass halfway to his mouth. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Actually, yeah. I think it’s a great idea,” I retorted.
“Noelle, don’t take that sarcastic tone with your father,” my mother stated flatly.
My mother is almost never stern, so I knew I was pushing it. I just wanted to get out of there.
“He’s just worried about you,” my mom added. “We all are.”
“Maybe you should stay home tonight and get some rest,” my father put in. “You do look a bit…” He didn’t finish.
“I’m fine,” I told them, trying to perk up. “Really. It was just a long week. But I think I need this party more than I need some rest.”
Especially considering what happened the last time I blew off a party with Zach.
My family members exchanged wary looks. I sighed. I was so sick of everyone thinking they knew what was best for me. Couldn’t they see I was trying to save a relationship over here?
“Look, if I don’t feel well, I’ll come right home. I promise,” I said. “I just…have to make an appearance.”
“All right. If that’s what you want,” my father agreed finally. “But you’re not getting up from this table until you eat something.”
“Fine.”
I picked up my roll and took a huge bite out of it. Instantly my stomach heaved, but I held my breath and managed to chew. The bread turned gummy and gross in my mouth, but I forced myself to swallow it. It got stuck halfway and I guzzled some water to help it get through.
“Better?” I asked my dad, my eyes stinging.
“Take that with you and finish it, and I’ll feel even better,” he answered.
I rolled my eyes at him but brought the roll with me when I got up from the table. As soon as I was upstairs, I tossed it into a wastebasket and went to get dressed.
This was an important night—Zach and I making our first appearance at a party together since our major public meltdown. I knew everyone was going to be watching us. The last thing I needed was to throw up in the middle of it. I’d eat tomorrow. When everything would finally feel normal again.