The Boyfriend Contract Page 3

  CHAPTER 7

  So, yeah, things were grand being Conrad’s best friend. He was sweet and fun, and put me above all of his other hordes and gobs of friends. It was bliss, I tell you.

  Also, being his best friend helped me climb the social ladder in record speed, since all the snobby girls at school wanted to be friends with me now, so they could get an “in” with Conrad. I know it sounds petty (and it was, don’t get me wrong), but it was way, way better than when Rene was spreading lies about me clogging toilets, and when she was only friends with me because her brother was yucky and had a disturbing thing for me.

  So, yeah, better. Much.

  Only, face it: none of that really mattered. Not to me. I had Conrad. That’s all that really mattered to me. The rest was just mysterious gravy.

  And speaking of “mysterious” (not gravy) there was Conrad’s devotion to me. What was up with that? I mean, we had great fun together always, and a special connection that was dear to me beyond words, and I knew it was to him too, I knew that, I did, but it was obvious he could have any girl he wanted—have a popular, beauty-queen girlfriend, and yet, he spent all his time with me, his ‘best friend.’

  Believe me, that fact wasn’t lost on his hockey teammates, not by a long shot. They’d all give him a playful hard time telling him he must be gay, since his best friend was a girl, and he did everything with her. But their team captain, Griffin Piper said, “No, Conrad’s not gay. It’s the total opposite, dopes. He’s with her constantly because he’s in love.”

  He said it like it was hilarious—a tough hockey player in love. (But let me just tell you, years later tough Griffin Piper fell madly, deeply in love with shy church-girl, Ally Grange. So, ha! I’m sure he doesn’t think being in love is so hilarious now. Now it has him purring like a kitten.) But back then he smirked about it, though Conrad tried his hardest to set his team straight. “We’re just friends—I swear.”

  “Good. Then I guess you won’t mind if I ask her out, right?” this guy, Jake Edwards, asked, sounding both amused and challenging. And also curious.

  Conrad gave me a quick peek, then darted his gaze back to Jake. “No, you can’t ask her out, Jake. Like I said, she’s my friend. Friends don’t let friends date trouble.”

  “Ohhh,” Jake put his hand over his heart in mock pain, “You wound me, dude.”

  Then Jake’s gaze instantly went back to me, raking over every inch of me, like assessing me for the hundredth time, and blatantly liking what he saw. “Your ‘friend’ can’t stop you from dating me,” Jake pointed out.

  “I don’t need my friend to stop me,” I told him. “I’m not interested in dating the dude both my friends, Shawna and Kari were cheated on by.”

  “Oh,” Jake scratched his chin, looking amused by being busted, “You know them?”

  I narrowed my eyes at the jerk. “Yes, and they call you a lot worse things than ‘trouble.’”

  “I guess they would.”

  “So, no I’m not interested in dating you, Jake.”

  “Fair enough,” Jake said, though really the whole thing was probably just for show anyway. I mean, I doubt he was expecting me to go out with him. After all, Conrad told him no, that he couldn’t date me. The guys on the hockey team were tight. They joked around and teased each other—constantly. But they also had each other’s backs and respected each other’s ‘territory.’

  It seemed pretty clear, whether I was just his friend or girlfriend, either way, I was Conrad’s territory. In fact, I heard them call me that a lot, as in: “Here comes Conrad’s territory.”

  So I was pretty certain I’d never be seriously asked out by a member of the hockey team—though I could feel their eyes on me—a lot. Still, I was “Conrad’s territory,” and I liked it that way. I mean, if I couldn’t be his girlfriend, at least I could be his … territory.

  Right?

  Okay, ugh.

  Whatever.

  Anyway, that’s what I was, and it seemed better than just being his friend. Higher. Well, that’s what I tried telling myself when I heard the guys calling me that anyway, though they never said it in a way that I was supposed to hear. I mean, the label was always about me, not directed to me. As in, “Eyes off, dude; that’s Conrad’s territory.”

  Actually, I kind of liked it—in a way. I mean, it pretty much kept guys from doing awkward things, like asking me out. Neither Conrad or I had ever “dated” anyone. I liked to fantasize that his hesitancy to go out with any of the many, many girls that made it clear they wanted him, was that he was waiting for me. Like, I would be his first date, and first kiss, and first girlfriend—first everything. He made it pretty easy for me to fantasize it would eventually happen. After all, he made it pretty clear I was first in his life. And sometimes I’d catch him looking at me like he wanted to kiss me—maybe. It seemed. Sometimes.

  … or then again (sigh) maybe I was delusional, since I wanted it so bad. It was possible my imagination just made romantic stuff up about him—like his stare, and the way his eyes would stall on my lips sometimes. Mmm, it was the stuff my dreams were made of.

  However, I couldn’t quite ignore the fact he made it clear to everyone I was his ‘best friend’—not girlfriend. Sure, it was nice having the title ‘best’ and having it emphasized so often, it was an honor that I adored with all of my heart. But then again, I would have chucked it out the window for the title ‘girlfriend.’ So, I didn’t date other boys—ever. I secretly waited for Conrad and the day he would open his eyes and finally see (and actually say), “Hey, I want you for more than just a friend.’

  What a glorious day it would be!

  But WHEN would it be??

  WHEN????!!!!

  My mom said that boys mature a lot slower in the romance area than girls. Conrad seemed really, really mature. But you never know. Right?

  Right?

  Maybe he just wasn’t ready for a girlfriend. Maybe he was shy—I mean, when it came to that: dating and kissing and exciting stuff like that.

  Okay, it was unlikely, since Conrad was anything but shy. But what else was the hold up?

  I didn’t like to think about the alternative—that he really, truly did just think of me as a friend … and worse yet, that he always would.

  As I was thinking about this: Conrad and kissing (okay, I didn’t think about much else), my friend Paige snapped me out of my dreamy confused thoughts.

  “I think North Moretti is cute,” Paige announced as we waited for Conrad to show up at my house to help us with our math. She went on as though she had a plan, “He’s on the hockey team with Conrad. Do you think Conrad would set it up so we could double-date?”

  “Double-date?” I murmured, confused. “Who would be the couples?”

  “Duh! You and Conrad, and me and North.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks. “Um, that would be awkward—I mean, since Conrad and I are only friends.”

  She scoffed with a laugh. “Oh, give it up. You two are secretly in love with each other and it’s annoying that you both won’t just admit it. I mean, girls are dying to date him—he knows that. But he acts like he doesn’t, because all he wants is you.”

  I swallowed. “Girls are dying to date him?”

  “Oh, come on!” she groaned like I’m torture. “You know he’s gorgeous. I mean, you have eyes, right? I want to date him—you know that.”

  “Yeah, I know you do—you always have. But other girls do too?”

  She scoffed. “Yes, of course,” she said, breaking my heart a little. I mean, yes, of course, I know Conrad is gorgeous. Duh. But I sort of hoped that I just saw him that way because I loved him so much—you know, since he’s so cool and funny. But everyone notices he’s gorgeous? Not just me and Paige? (Paige had only become my close friend in the first place so she could get up close and personal with Conrad. She fully admitted that once we became friends. But she’s an awesome friend, and actually a real one now … and she’s pretty much given up on Conrad as seeing her as anything mor
e than my friend. Which is a relief.)

  When Conrad finally shows up for our math study group (extremely late, by the way) Paige keeps prompting me to suggest the double-date with North Moretti. But I don’t. One, because Conrad and I are just friends at the moment and I don’t want to mess with it (though, admittedly, I’d die of happiness if he messed with it and asked me to be his girlfriend—duh); and two, because I don’t think Paige should go out with North Moretti. He’s very tough and hoodlum-like, and very, very experienced with girls. And yes, he’s handsome—but like I said, hoodlum-like. So, not for Paige.

  Finally, right before Paige leaves to go to dance class she gets brave enough to ask Conrad, “Do any of the guys on your hockey team think of me—or January—as more than friends?”

  I can tell she’s holding her breath, waiting for his answer. I sort of am too.

  “I think of January as more than a friend,” Conrad says. He smiles at me, playful-like and nudges me, “She’s my best friend. She made me sign a contract and everything.”

  “Yeah, yeah, great,” Paige says sounding both annoyed and frustrated. “Well, bye.”

  Once she’s gone, Conrad gives me a guarded little peek. “Speaking of more than friends.”

  A thrill goes through me. “Yeah?”

  “Trisha wants me to be more than friends with her.” He rubs the back of his neck and gives me another peek. “What do you think of that?”

  I grit my teeth. “Great.”

  He tilts his head. “You sure?”

  I swallow, “So great.”

  “Yeah?” he gives me a tiny peek. “I was just checking.”

  We play video games in silence a while. “You okay?” he asks.

  My heart is shattered into a million pieces, but other than that, I’m swell.

  CHAPTER 8

  A week after Conrad’s bombshell that I will no longer be his only territory, Paige got an earth shattering bombshell as well. Her parents were getting a divorce.

  She was so sad, totally devastated. I wanted to cheer her up, really bad. Plus, I wanted her to get over her sudden obsession with North Moretti. (Ugh!) So, I concocted a plan with her to get Conrad to date her (Paige) instead of him dating Trisha anymore. After all, Paige really liked Conrad more than she did North. She was gaga for Conrad, and North was trouble. Maybe even worse trouble than Jake (reminder: Jake was the guy that had asked Conrad if he could date me—as if!)

  The real thing was, I hated Trisha—well, now that she was “dating” Conrad. Suddenly, it was like I was enemy number one with her. She was always giving me dirty looks and practically growled at me every time Conrad talked to me—which he was doing less and less because she always tried to keep us apart; also, I avoided them when they were together—because it broke my heart to see them together. But that seemed to make everything even worse—having to avoid getting to see Conrad. So, I figured the only person I could stomach seeing him with was Paige, my other best friend. Plus, you know, she was so sad.

  So, I suggested to Paige that she try to actually flirt with Conrad.

  Paige rolled her eyes. “I have flirted with him, like crazy. Tons of times.”

  True.

  She went on with a frustrated huff, “But he always just pays attention to you.” She grumbled, “It’s hopeless—trying to get his attention, let alone get him to notice my full-on flirt—when you’re around.”

  I bit my lip. “Okay, then what if I’m not around?”

  She squinted. “Um, what do you mean?”

  We came up with: “Conrad Catching.” It was our plan to lure Conrad away from snobby horrible Trisha, by making him see he’s totally in love with Paige. I mean, I figured if he wanted to be ‘more than friends’ with anyone it should be with sweet Paige, not horrible Trisha. (I mean, if it couldn’t be me. Which I guess it can’t. I mean, we signed a contract.) (Blah.)

  So, that night I called Conrad. This is how it went:

  “Hey Conrad, do you want to go to the movies with me tomorrow night?”

  “Um, tomorrow night?—uh yeah.” I can tell he’s smiling huge, I can hear the smile in his voice (I love that). He says ultra-friendly, “It’s weird to hear your voice on the phone—you usually just text.”

  “Right, but it’s late and I wanted to make sure you answered.”

  “Okay, my answer is yes.”

  “Great!”

  “Terrific.”

  “Okay, well, this is the end of our phone conversation.”

  “Okay, it was short, but sweet.”

  That’s a saying, but still. I gush with mushiness inside. Then—wham! I remember the plan—oops! “Okay, so I’ll meet you outside the theater at seven, okay?”

  “Um, okay. Or, I can have my mom give you a ride—like, actually show up there together.”

  Right. That would be normal. But no.

  I tell evasively, “No, um, no. I have this thing I have to go to first.”

  “A thing?”

  “Yep. A thing.”

  He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to tell him what the thing is, but I’ve got nothing. Finally he gives up on me not being mysterious, “Oh-kay. So, I guess I’ll meet you there at seven, after your thing.”

  “Great-okay-goodbye.” I say it all really quick, like it’s all one big long word, then quickly hang up.

  Immediately I get a text from Conrad: “Goodbye.”

  Oops. Yeah, I’d hung up before he could say that.

  Phone calls—nerve-wracking!

  ***

  The next day I help Paige get glamorous for her “date” with Conrad. We decide against understated, since apparently Conrad needs to be knocked in the head when it comes to Paige. She’s gorgeous though, so I really don’t get it. She’s way prettier than stuck-up Trisha. And nicer.

  Paige chatted excitedly (and non-stop) the whole time we were getting her ready. “I can’t believe I’m finally going out with Conrad!” she kept saying.

  Me either, I found myself saying—in my head.

  Drearily.

  “Don’t you think he’s going to be mad when it’s me that shows up at the theater instead of you?” She says it as though it’s a real possibility, yet she’s not too terribly concerned about it. She knows she’s pretty. She’s just glad she’s finally going to get the opportunity to make Conrad see that. You know, when she’s alone with him. When he’s trapped on a date.

  “He won’t be mad when he sees you,” I assure her. “He’ll drop his jaw when he sees you, because honey, you look hot.”

  “I know, right?”

  Right.

  (Sob.)

  ***

  It’s better this way, I keep telling myself, though there is an aching in my heart and stomach and I kind of feel like I might die. But Paige looked so happy to finally be going on a date with Conrad. She likes him like, a psychotic lot. Scary amounts. And face it, if he liked me—I mean, more than as a friend—he would have spoken up long before now, right? … and he wouldn’t have agreed to go out with Trisha. I mean, I’d had a lot of guys act like they wanted to be ‘more than my friend’ but I’d always made it clear I wasn’t interested. Because I wasn’t. I secretly wanted Conrad. And that was all I ever wanted—Conrad.

  But apparently he didn’t want me the same way, or he wouldn’t have agreed to be ‘more than friends’ with Trisha. It hurt to have it finally confirmed—killed. But sadly, now it was, and I had to face it: he didn’t see me that way.

  So … Paige. I figured she was the next best. I mean, if I had to endure Conrad dating anyone it could only be Paige. Paige really, truly liked him. And she was sweet and kind. She was the only girl that my heart could take seeing him with.

  But then when I heard he kissed her after their date, my heart broke.

  Nooo!

  Everything inside me withered and died.

  Apparently, I couldn’t even take him with Paige. And Paige was awesome. And woefully sad that her parents were breaking up. But as I heard Paige’s excited c
hatter about her date with Conrad, and how he had gently, masterfully kissed her, I wanted to throw her out of the window.

  Yet I found myself choking out, “So, uh, he’s a good kisser, huh?”

  “Amazing,” she purred excitedly.

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “What’s the matter?” Paige asked. “You’re all white. Are you sick?”

  “Um, yeah. I think maybe you should go. I think I’m going to throw up.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Thanks a lot,” Conrad had texted when I didn’t show up at the movies. At the time, I’d half-thought he was being sarcastic. Bitter even, maybe.

  But now it seemed he’d been happy, and truly thanking me for sending Paige instead of going myself. I mean, he kissed her. Kissed her! And she’d said what a nice time they’d had together, laughing about the movie and eating ice-cream … and kissing. (Sob.)

  Somehow his happiness was worse than when I’d thought he was being bitter. (Though both were terrible and made me feel sick.)

  The next day, when he showed up at my house looking mad, I was confused. Also, I was confused that he was in my house. I’d planned to not see him for a while. Avoid him until I didn’t feel so heartbroken (which seemed would be, you know, forever) but here he was, in my house, at my bedroom door.

  “Your mom let me in,” he explained, still looking mad. He glanced down the hallway, then nudged me back into my room, though I didn’t want to go. I wanted to tell him I was sick, and send him away. But he shut the door before I had a chance to speak.

  “Why’d you do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Sic your friend on me.”

  “She likes you and her parents are getting a divorce. I just—I wanted to cheer her up.”

  “So you just handed me over to her?”

  “Well …”

  “January, I broke up with Trisha to go to the movies with you.”

  “Y—you what?!”