The Boyfriend Thief

CHAPTER 16





“The trick is to get the right ratio,” Zac said as he pulled on the lever for the cherry flavored slushie. He filled the paper cup a third of the way, then moved on to the lime dispenser. “Too much of one flavor ruins it all.”

After we had left the Rose Castle, Zac had insisted on stopping at the Gas ‘N Drive for his famous cherry-lime-grape slushies. “It’s an after show tradition,” he had told me. It had to come from the Gas ‘N Drive on Miller Street six blocks away, not one of the stores closer to the diner.

“The other stores don’t have the right dispenser,” Zac said as he added grape to the mess in his cup. He looked into the mixture, swirled it around, and then added a tiny bit more. “They give too much slushie all at once and it ruins the concoction.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to clean up the dripping slushie that remained on each tap. Zac didn’t even seem to notice the cherry-lime-grape mess he was making on the counter.

We were the only people in the silent store, other than the sleepy cashier leaning over the front counter, his elbow resting on the edge of the register and his chin propped up in his hand. He had barely opened his eyes at us when we entered, just gave a quick wave to Zac when he led me toward the back.

When he’d stirred the drink until he was satisfied with the consistency, Zac handed the cup over to me with a smile like he’d given me the secret to immortality.

I looked into the purple-black disaster inside the cup. “Um, no thanks.”

Zac shook his head when I tried to hand it back to him and grabbed another cup from the stack to begin the process all over again. “That one’s for you. Specially made. My treat.” He stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he focused on repeating the right mixture for his own drink.

I held the cup in front of me, afraid to take a sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything from a gas station before. Other than the bottled drinks and bags of chips, I mean. I didn’t even know there was a food area back here.”

Zac’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Some days I exist solely on Gas ‘N Drive’s corn dogs and nachos. I mean, the corn dogs here aren’t Diggity Dog corn dogs, but they’re good when it’s two A.M. and you have a mad corn dog craving.”

I swished the half-frozen liquid around in my cup. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a mad corn dog craving either.”

“Sometimes I’m not sure you’re human, Avery James.” He finished creating his own slushie and I followed him to the front of the store. The cashier blinked at us, yawning wide, as we approached.

“Hey, man,” he greeted Zac, pushing himself upright to key in our purchases.

“Hey, Jake.” Zac nodded to me. “Do you know Avery?”

The cashier, Jake, studied me for a moment through half-closed lids, then shook his head. “Nah, don’t think so. I remember everyone that comes through during the night shift.”

“I’m usually asleep during the night shift,” I told him.

“I’m disturbing her beauty rest,” Zac said with a mischievous grin. “Introducing her to the wild world of midnight slushies.”

Jake laughed as he handed back Zac’s change. “Don’t corrupt her too much, Greeley. Later, guys.”

We headed outside to my car, but when Zac reached for the door handle I hit the lock button on my keychain. He stopped and looked back to where I still stood on the sidewalk next to the store.

“No eating or drinking in my car,” I said. “Rule number one, remember?”

“You have plastic on your seats. I don’t think it will hurt anything if I spill some.”

I shook my head. “No slushies in the car.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “So you want to stand here in the dark and drink them?”

The gas station’s parking lot was brightly lit, but beyond that, the rest of the world was dark and shadowy. Anything could be hiding out there behind the bushes, watching us, waiting to mug two idiot teenagers standing around in a parking lot drinking slushies at almost two in the morning.

“All right,” I relented. “We’ll get in the car. But we’re not going anywhere until the drinks are gone. And if you spill even one drop, you’ll be sorry.”

To his credit, Zac was careful getting into the car instead of tumbling in like he usually did. I turned the ignition far enough that the radio came on so we could listen to Hallow Flux while we sat.

“All right,” Zac said, grinning at me. “Ready to experience flavor beyond all comprehension? Ready to enter a world of cherry and lime and grape so magnified your head will explode?”

“Ready for an obscene sugar rush?” I asked, wrinkling my nose at the cup in my hand.

“On the count of three.” Zac held up his fingers. “One...Two...Three! Drink!”

We raised our cups at the same time, but while Zac gulped his down, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly, I took only a small mouthful. The frozen drink sent chills through my teeth and down my throat while the sugar tingled on my tongue.

But it wasn’t bad. There was something to Zac’s theory about the right ratio of cherry to lime to grape after all. At the very least, the cold liquid was a welcome relief to the warm night.

Zac lowered his cup and pressed his free hand into his forehead. “Slushie headache!” he groaned, laughing as he bent over.

“You spill and you’re in trouble. I mean it!” His cup tipped dangerously, but then he sat up, righting it before even a drop spilled onto the floorboard.

Zac smiled at me, panting a little as the effects of the slushie worked its way through him. “So? Awesome, right? I’m a genius, you can admit it.”

“It’s good,” I said, taking another sip.

“Good? It’s only the best thing in the entire universe! Tacos are good. Pizza is great. Cherry-lime-grape slushies are indescribable.”

“I think I understand now why you’re always so wound up,” I commented, casting a glance at him over the rim of my cup.

“Tons of sugar and a natural upbeat personality,” Zac confirmed. His smile lit up his face. He was still flushed from his time onstage and was even more animated than usual, except it seemed to be a more controlled constant movement, not like the chaos that usually surrounded him.

“I know what I want you to do for me,” I said. When Zac gave me a confused look, I added, “When we get an A on the business project.”

He studied me intently. “I’m intrigued. What is it you want from me?”

“Tell your dad that you don’t want to work in his store.”

Zac gave me an exasperated look. “Not happening. I don’t want to be responsible for my dad completely flipping his lid.”

“So you’re going to work there forever, being miserable and dancing to elevator music while you secretly perform at comedy shows?”

“I’m not miserable. No one can be miserable when they’re doing comedy. That’s why the Zac Pack loves me so much.”

“Zac Pack?” I asked.

He grinned and ducked his head. “My fans. I didn’t come up with the name, they did. It’s kind of stupid, but they have these T-shirts they made up. There are rumors of a newsletter coming out soon and a write-in campaign to get me booked on the Late Show, but you know, I’m trying to keep it small town for now. Don’t want to get too big too fast and develop an overinflated ego.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want your head to get any bigger than it already is,” I told him.

Zac laughed. “Did you make a joke? You did! You made a real, actual joke. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a great thing. You could stand to loosen up a little every now and then.”

My fingernails dug into the sides of the paper cup in my hand, my smile slipping off my face. “I’m not uptight.”

Zac shrugged. “I didn’t say you were. I just said you could loosen up a bit.”

Loosen up a bit. Criticism from Zac Greeley.

Suddenly, the cherry-lime-grape slushie had an awful metallic taste. I rolled down my window and poured the purple-black concoction onto the parking lot outside my door.

“Ready to go?” I asked, starting the ignition. My fingers tapped out a steady rhythm on the steering wheel. Distal phalanges, intermediate phalanges, proximal phalanges, metacarpals, carpals. I adjusted the strap of my seat belt, making sure it lined up perfectly across my torso.

Zac stared at me, but I didn’t dare look at him. I couldn’t look at him. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine. I need to go home. I have to work later. Either drink the rest of your slushie or pour it out so we can go.”

My fingers continued the steady tapping, a perfectly timed rhythm to the words in my head in comparison to Zac’s wild bouncing knees.

I didn’t care what he thought of me, whether he did think I was uptight or imperfect or whatever. I didn’t want to think about winning Zac over or the fact that I would feel like a zombie later in the day. I wanted to go home, go to sleep, and go back to my normal, planned out life that didn’t involve midnight comedy shows and slushies.