The Boyfriend Thief

CHAPTER 7





“Morning, sunshine,” Dad said as I padded into the kitchen Saturday morning. Or at least, I thought it was my dad. I had to do a double take to make sure. He sat at the table, dressed in a T-shirt, athletic shorts, and running shoes with a white sweatband wrapped around his head and matching mini sweatbands around his wrists.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Did Halloween come early?”

“Funny,” Dad said as he drank the last of his orange juice. “I’m meeting Trisha for a jog around the park.”

I had pulled open the refrigerator to grab the milk from its spot on the third shelf, but now I froze, my hand hovering in the air. “Jogging? You?” This statement had spun me for a loop so fast that I ignored the mention of his girlfriend.

“I jog,” Dad insisted.

“Since when?”

“Okay, I haven’t done it since college, but it’ll be good for me,” Dad said. He thumped his chest with his fist. “Get some fresh air into these old lungs.”

“I think you should be more concerned with not getting any air at all into your old lungs. No offense, Dad, but you’re not exactly athletic. It’s been over twenty years since you regularly exercised.”

I poured myself a bowl of cereal and then sat down at the table across from him. Dad looked indignant that I was questioning his jogging abilities.

“I used to run track in high school,” Dad said. “A little jogging won’t kill me.”

“Jogging?” said Ian as he stumbled into the room, his eyes still half-closed. “You’re going jogging?”

Dad slapped the table. “Why do you kids think I can’t do something as simple as jogging? It’s not like I’m running a marathon.”

I stuffed a spoonful of cereal into my mouth to avoid answering.

Ian wasn’t so worried about sparing Dad’s feelings. “I’ve never seen you even walk fast,” he said as he grabbed his Cap’n Crunch off the top of the refrigerator. “Except for one time at the grocery store when they announced there were free samples of buffalo wings in the meat department.”

Dad got up from the table and put his empty glass into the sink. “You two think you know everything,” he said, turning around to scowl at us. “I’ll see you later—after my nice jog.”

With that, Dad stomped out of the room. The front door slammed a moment later.

“He’ll be coming home in an ambulance, won’t he?” Ian asked as he sat down.

“Very likely. He’s jogging with Trisha.”

“So?” Ian asked, spraying bits of food across the table.

“Ew.” I wiped a chunk of chewed up Crunchberry off my arm. Dad’s latest self-help book caught my eye on the edge of the counter. Finding Love When All You Feel is Lost.

“How serious do you think he is about her?”

Ian shrugged. “I’d say our dad jogging is pretty serious.”

I swirled my spoon around in my bowl, watching the last few pieces of cereal spin in circles on top of the milk.

“Do you think much about her?” I asked quietly.

The thing about Ian and me was that I didn’t have to tell him who I meant. He’d know. We had been through it all together: him crying while curled up in my lap, me rocking him back and forth and promising everything would be okay. And I had meant it. Everything would be okay. I would make sure of it.

“Not really,” he answered after a pause.

And the other thing about Ian and me: I always knew when he was lying. So I pretended not to notice when he pulled a few Hershey’s Kisses from the pocket of his pajamas and added them to his cereal.

After I ate the last of my breakfast, I washed my bowl and spoon and returned them to their rightful places before heading upstairs to shower and dress. I was meeting Zac that morning at his house to work on our project before I had to go to work.

On my way home the day before, I had stopped in at the drugstore to buy a few magazines. They had headlines across the cover such as “Win Him Over Now! 10 Surefire Tips to Get the Guy of Your Dreams” and “The Art of Kissing: How to Keep His Lips Sealed to Yours.” Any other time, I’d never be caught in public buying those things, but it was necessary research. I didn’t know the first thing about winning a guy over.

Taking advice from one of the dozens of articles I’d read, I slipped into my favorite sundress and then pulled my hair up into a messy ponytail. I dabbed a touch of shiny lip-gloss on my lips to make them eye-catching.

I studied my reflection in the mirror. It was strange how a few minor changes could make me feel like the real Avery was a little lost.

“Pheromones and paint to increase the visual appeal and encourage the release of endorphins,” I reminded myself. It was almost pathetic, the lengths girls would go to get a guy’s attention. Thank goodness this was only a business strategy and not that I was desperate enough to try any of these tricks.

But still, maybe I did look a little nice. Different, definitely. I never wore makeup and usually a cardigan would have been worn over my dress to cover up. I smiled at my reflection, noticing how my eyes sparkled as they caught the sunlight coming through the window.

A few minutes later, I pulled my car to a stop in front of the address Zac had given me, which belonged to a red brick ranch style house. It looked nice, well-maintained, and blended in easily with the other homes around it.

It didn’t look like Zac Greeley at all.

My finger pressed the doorbell, which I could faintly hear chime through the house. I readjusted my bag on my shoulder, then reached down to smooth out the front of my sundress. Why did my stomach suddenly feel like a nest of live squirrels had taken up residence inside it?

This is no big deal, I told myself. Think of it like a science experiment. I liked science experiments. Creating hypotheses and observing data to come to a conclusion based on facts made sense to me.

Hypothesis: An otherwise happily attached teenage boy could be convinced to dump his current girlfriend for another girl through the use of charm, wit, and a little bit of sex appeal.

The door opened and Zac grinned at me. His eyes widened slightly as his gaze traveled down to my shoulders and swept to my feet before snapping back up to meet my eyes.

Data: Zac was definitely checking me out.

“Hey. You look nice. Got a big date after we study?”

“No,” I said, laughing as I shrugged. “Just studying, then work.”

Zac stepped back to allow me to enter his home. “Aw, shucks,” he said in a deep drawl. “You didn’t pretty yourself all up for little ol’ me, did you?”

Maybe the dress and makeup were bad ideas. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard. Maybe Hannah could have gotten away with this outfit without a second glance, but my usual uniform was jeans or a simple denim skirt and T-shirts with witty slogans plastered across the front, topped off with my purple Chuck Taylors. My toes felt a bit naked in the sandals I wore.

I was saved from answering Zac’s teasing by the arrival of a tall blonde man dressed in dark blue pants and a pressed white shirt. A name badge attached over his left breast pocket read “Greeley Lock & Key: George Greeley, Manager.”

“Oh,” he said when he spotted us. “I thought I heard the doorbell.”

“Hello,” I greeted him, returning his polite smile.

Zac had suddenly become absorbed in studying a painting of flowers on the wall.

The man extended one hand toward me. “Since my son obviously isn’t going to do the introductions, I’ll handle them for him. I’m George Greeley, Zac’s dad.”

“Avery James. I’m a, uh...friend of Zac’s from school.”

Zac stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I told you and Mom last night that Avery would be coming over today to work on our economics project, remember?”

Mr. Greeley nodded, but the vague look on his face suggested he didn’t remember this. “Ah, yes. Well, then, Avery, I’m counting on you to make sure Zac focuses like he’s supposed to. No letting him goof off and go on one of his wild ideas, okay?”

Our entire project was based on one of Zac’s wild ideas. But the stormy look clouding over Zac’s face told me it was better not to point this out.

I nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

Mr. Greeley smiled, satisfied. “I’m off to the shop. Zac, I expect you there at three o’clock. Not three-thirty. Three on the dot. Can you handle that?”

Zac rolled his eyes. “I lost track of time once,” he muttered. “It’s not the end of the world.”

But Mr. Greeley was grabbing a bag from the closet and apparently didn’t hear Zac’s response. “I’ll see you then, Zac. Nice to meet you, Avery.”

Once the door had closed behind his dad, Zac’s entire body seemed to relax from the stiffened posture he had taken on. He smiled and I couldn’t miss the relieved look in his eyes.

“Ready to go build a matchmaking business?” he asked.

I raised my eyebrows. “Lead the way, Cupid.”

Zac led me down the hall to his family’s den, which was decorated with cozy, plush furniture situated in front of a flat screen TV mounted over the fireplace. But my eye noticed how one lampshade was slightly crooked and how the table didn’t line up with the couch evenly. Someone had left magazines scattered across the coffee table and for a moment, my fingers itched to straighten them into a neat stack. I sat down quickly, putting my hands under my legs. I would not be the weird girl who came over to other people’s houses and cleaned for them.

A couple cans of soda and a bowl of chips had been placed on one corner of the coffee table, near where I sat on the green couch.

Zac sat down next to me and opened the business plan notebook that he’d taken home with him after class the day before. I had worried that he would lose track of it, but he had insisted on taking it so he could read over everything. He opened it to the first page of questions, on which he’d already filled in some of the lines with his big, sloppy print that seemed to dance off the page.

“Did you already do all of the work?” I asked, looking over the page.

“I couldn’t help it,” he told me sheepishly. “I don’t sleep so I have a lot of free time.”

I glanced at him. “You don’t sleep?”

“Well, I mean, I sleep. But not as much as most people. A couple hours here and there. Enough to get by.” He shrugged, as if this were no big deal, despite the fact that he was ruining his body’s natural cellular turnover process by not getting enough sleep. “Anyway, I was up and I guess I’m really excited about this project. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I filled in some of the questions. Our business is going to be awesome.”

“Are you planning to start a business of your own one day?”

Zac’s smile faded. “No. I’m going to take over my family’s locksmithing business. According to my dad anyway.”

I thought about the no nonsense look of Zac’s dad and the way Zac’s body had instantly tensed when his dad walked into the room. “And what about according to you?”

Zac shrugged. He didn’t seem like himself at all now. His shoulders had slumped and his usual smile was replaced by a grim expression. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, almost robotically. “What about you? Are you going to run a business of your own?”

“I’m going to be a doctor. Maybe provide medical care in poor areas of the world.”

Zac’s eyes widened. “Wow. Really?”

“Yeah, I think it could be fun and very rewarding. Either that or I’ll go into genetics and try to figure out what makes us who we are. Like, how much of our personalities is influenced by our genes?”

“That would be awesome,” Zac said. “You could help people figure out whether they’re destined to always be short-tempered or a failure at math because their parents were.”

Or whether they’re destined to abandon their family because one of their parents did?

“Maybe you could even figure out exactly what a person’s personality will be like from the moment of their birth,” he went on. The animated Zac I was beginning to know had returned and he flailed his arms around as he spoke. “Or even before they’re born! You could create a whole new way of thinking about people and personalities. Maybe even figure out how to manipulate genes to get rid of a personality trait that isn’t as desirable as others.”

“This is all theoretical planning,” I reminded him. “First I have to get through med school and actually pass.”

“Oh, you’ll pass. You’re too smart to fail at anything.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But maybe we should focus on passing business econ right now?”

“Oh,” Zac said, as if he had forgotten why I was at his house in the first place. “Right.”

He bent over the economics notebook, letting his dark hair fall forward over his eyes. I sneaked a glance sideways at him, studying his profile. I hadn’t noticed before how his nose turned up a tiny bit at the end. Or how he had one curl that hung down over his ear.

I coughed and turned away so Zac couldn’t see the flush I felt creeping up my neck.

Might as well try to get a move on with what I was hired to do. This seemed like a good enough opportunity. “I’ll bet you’re a lot smarter than you think.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Zac said. “And most opinions disagree with you.” He gave me a grin, but I could see the hurt in his eyes.

“Why do you do that?” I asked.

His brow creased. “What?”

“Put yourself down. I’m trying to compliment you and you turn it into a joke.”

Zac tapped his fingers on the book in his lap. “I like jokes.”

“Not everything in life is a joke.”

Zac cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. Thank you for the compliment then.” He looked cute with the spots of color on his cheeks.

Why was I thinking about Zac being cute?

“You’re welcome,” I said, my own embarrassment making it impossible to maintain eye contact with him.

We were silent for a moment. I looked around the room, while my head screamed at me to think of something to say. Anything to fill the void.

Zac did it for me, thankfully. “So…we should get to work.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Why was it so hot in Zac’s house? I lifted the edge of my dress slightly, trying to flutter it around to create a breeze.

“We have to figure out how much money we need for our loan,” Zac said, reading from the paper in our notebook. “Let’s see. We’ll need a storefront for the in person clients. And furniture and…”

The sudden squeal of my cell phone from the pocket of my sundress startled me and I let out a sharp shriek. Zac jumped, his knee bumping hard into the coffee table.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed, leaning forward to press my hands against Zac’s knee. Which was attached to a nicely muscular thigh as I couldn’t help noticing while I checked him for injuries—strictly medically speaking, of course. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Zac said, grimacing. “You going to answer that?” He nodded toward my pocket where my cell phone still shrilled.

“Oh, right.” I pulled the phone out and pressed talk without checking the caller ID first. “Hello?”

“Hello, Avery,” said a familiar voice in my ear. My mind was still reeling so much I couldn’t place the voice on the other end.

“Who is this?”

“I’m hurt. You’ve made it your mission in life to torment me and yet you don’t recognize my voice?”

“Elliott,” I said, stifling a groan. “How did you get my number?”

“Your brother was more than willing to give up your number for a certain cheerleader’s in exchange,” Elliott told me.

I was going to kill Ian as soon as I got home that night.

“Well,” I said, trying to sound pleasant and force down the rage bubbling inside me, “it’s been nice chatting with you, but I’m really busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I know,” Elliott said. “I saw your car at Greeley’s house.”

“Are you stalking me now?”

Zac looked at me, raising his eyebrows in question.

“I was on my way to get some lunch when I passed his house. I can’t help it that I live right across the street from you and know what your car looks like.”

“Whatever. What do you want?”

“Stop telling Molly all these lies about what you think is going on with me and Tara.”

“I’m not going to let you hurt my best friend.”

“I would never do anything to hurt Molly,” Elliott said. “How many times do I have to tell you that? What do I have to do to prove myself to the two of you?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few deep, calming breaths. “Look, Elliott, I have to go—”

“I need your help,” Elliott said, his voice sounding a little raspy, as if he were desperate. “Molly isn’t like any of the other girls I’ve known. I really want—”

“Good-bye, Elliott,” I said before I hung up on him. The phone rang again immediately, but I turned it off and stuffed it back into my pocket.

Zac eyed me. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, fine.” I waved a hand. “My daily stalking from Elliott Reiser, who seems to be extra crazy these days.”

No need to tell him it was my fault.

“So what, he wants you to go out with him or something?” Zac asked.

A shudder went through me at the thought. “Oh, no. No way. Elliott and I would kill each other on the first date. He’s interested in my friend Molly. And for some unknown reason, the feeling is mutual.”

“But?”

“But,” I said, unable to look at Zac as I spoke, “I don’t exactly have warm feelings for Elliott. So Molly hasn’t agreed to go out with him, which is driving him crazy.”

Zac sat back and nodded, drumming his fingers on his knee. “Ah. So Elliott blames you and is trying to convince you to change your mind about him so you’ll let Molly date him.”

“Pretty much,” I answered. “But he’s very much out of luck. I can’t imagine anything he could do that would change my mind.”

“What do you have against Elliott?” Zac asked.

One thing I was grateful for was what had happened that summer after seventh grade didn’t get spread around school. Elliott and Hannah could have told everything, but for some reason, they never had. Everyone only knew that the three of us had had a big falling out and were no longer friends by the time school started back in the fall. I wasn’t going to fill Zac in on all the gory details, so I said, “He’s a jerk and I don’t want to see Molly get hurt.”

“What makes you so sure he’ll hurt her?”

I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze. He looked completely confused, as if he couldn’t follow the point of this entire conversation. Poor, naïve Zac, he probably still believed in fairy tales that ended happily ever after.

“Because everyone gets hurt at the end of relationships,” I told him. “It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

“But there are good break ups and even good times to look back on after the bad ones are over.”

“Not always,” I insisted.

Zac’s eyes bored into me, as if he were trying to read deep into my soul. “Hmm,” he said.

“What?” I snapped. His gaze made me feel as if I were a specimen under a microscope. He was supposed to be the science experiment here, not me.

“You know what you need? A date.”

I choked on the mouthful of Sprite I’d just taken from the can, nearly spraying the liquid across my lap. “I do not need a date,” I told him, sputtering and wiping at my chin.

“On the scale of who needs a date most in the entire world, you’re probably at the top of the list. When was the last time you had a date?”

My cheeks grew hot and I jumped to my feet, stuffing my supplies back into my bag. “Obviously, this study date—I mean, session—is over, so I’m going to work.”

“Hey, wait.” Zac stood and grabbed my arm, his touch electrifying the hairs along my forearm. “You’ve never had a date, have you?”

“I’ve had dates!” I lied.

Zac tilted his head to the side. “Who was it? Where did you go? When was it?”

I yanked my arm from his grasp. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Dates with your dad don’t count.”

I stomped down the hall toward the front door and pretended I didn’t hear him. “Don’t fill out anymore of the business notebook without me.”

“It has to be dinner and a movie,” Zac went on, remaining close at my heels. “With an actual person, not over the internet.”

“And you shouldn’t stay up all night,” I said, ignoring the way my neck felt like it was burning up as he kept talking. Why was it so freaking hot in his house? “Your body needs sleep to repair itself.”

“Have you even been kissed?”

I spun around, accidentally smacking him with my backpack as I did so. “I don’t see how this is any of your business!”

Zac grinned. “But it is my business,” he said calmly. “Our business, remember? We match people up, so why not find a match for you while we’re at it?”

“We are not matching me up.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared back at him as my heart rate tried to return to a pace somewhere below cardiac arrest.

“You can be our first client,” Zac insisted. “Don’t you want to be happy and in love?”

He grinned down at me and I hated that I had to tilt my face up a little to look at him. It made me feel small and insignificant, as if he were the wise one with all the answers about love and life.

“I don’t qualify being in love with being happy. My happiness is not dependent on someone else’s affections.”

Zac waved a hand, dismissing my words. “Of course not, I never said it was. I meant that you could be even happier with a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” I said, tilting my head to one side, “because everyone in a relationship is oh so happy? You must be one of the happiest people in the world, right?”

My words were meant as a challenge. I wanted to see him claim how happy and in love with Hannah he was and how they had the perfect relationship. Because I knew better. I knew that behind his back, Hannah was making deals with me to get him to dump her.

But Zac didn’t answer. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other for a moment, avoiding my gaze.

“We can find someone else to be our first client,” he finally said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. He nodded back toward the direction of the den. “Come on, you don’t have to go to work already, do you? We can get a little more work done on our project and I promise not to match you up with anyone. Please?”

He clasped his hands together under his chin and looked at me with pleading, puppy dog eyes. I didn’t have to be at work for almost another hour, but I made a big show of looking at the time on my phone before answering him.

“Okay,” I said. “I can stay for a few more minutes, if you’re going to be such a baby about it.”

Zac pumped his fist in the air in a celebratory motion. I laughed as I followed him back toward our study area, while he bounced down the hall ahead of me.

But still, I noticed he never did answer my question about the state of happiness in his relationship.