Gael was thinking about how soon would be too soon to look Cara up on Facebook, send her a message, when he saw, of all people, Sammy walking down his driveway.
“Oh,” she said, startled. She stopped short, right in front of the tree that had been there forever, the one that Mason had fallen out of once, but in his Mason luck, hadn’t gotten so much as a scratch. “Hey. I was just leaving. I rode back from the restaurant with your mom.”
“Err, sorry for causing a scene,” Gael offered.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It was just a shitty situation.”
Apology taken care of, Gael went right back to daydreaming about Cara. Her cool T-shirt, and her hot sauce thievery, and that way she had of smiling so big . . .
Gael didn’t notice the way Sammy tugged at the hem of her dress. He was replaying the kiss in his head, marveling at how something had, almost miraculously, actually gone well for him.
God, was he insane to even think about liking someone so soon? (Yes.)
And if he was insane, did it even matter? (Yes, again.)
Gael felt better than he had since before Anika broke the news via public makeout sesh. His emptiness had turned to lightness, like if he didn’t focus on the here and now, he’d float away.
He barely even heard Sammy when she said, “You know, I haven’t been completely honest with you . . .”
Sammy stood in front of him with a serious look in her eyes, waiting for him to say the words that would send the truth tumbling out, a truth she’d wanted to divulge for a while but hadn’t quite found the right opportunity. (It’s easy, Gael. Just listen to the girl. Ask her what she means.)
But (of course) that’s not what Gael did.
“Sorry, what?” he asked.
Sammy shook her head quickly. She took two steps back, growing the space between them.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’ll see you on Monday.” She scuttled down the driveway as quickly as her legs could take her, which was very quickly, Sammy being five foot nine, the same height as Gael.
Gael, for his part, headed into his house, not bothering to give Sammy Sutton so much as a second thought.
how to crush a crush (aka phase one)
Despite a few clever attempts at tipping the scales in my favor (not limited to, but including, both the Internet and phone service temporarily going down at his dad’s place), by Sunday, Gael had found Cara on Facebook, and asked her if she wanted to accompany him to REI. He’d decided a nondate was the easiest place to start.
Perhaps he would have been able to wait a bit longer if he hadn’t been bored out of his mind at his dad’s place that weekend. The apartment was a not-so-cheerful three-bedroom that didn’t even have a Blu-ray player. I may have accidentally given Gael’s dad HBO access, but not even that could hold Gael off for long—between back-to-back episodes of Game of Thrones and Mason’s frequent phone calls, none of which he answered, Gael was perpetually reminded that betrayal was not reserved to lands filled with dragons and dwarves.
Not to mention his dad was driving him nuts. Gael had apologized to both his mom and dad independently (another fun thing about split households, you had to say everything twice!) and his dad had not only forgiven him, but he seemed intent on finding a way for them to bond. He made attempt after attempt at family fun times (including cooking brunch together, going to the farmers’ market, and even indulging in a post-dinner family walk), which only served to make Gael more suspicious that his dad truly did have a reason to feel guilty.
Long story short—Gael had to get out of the house. He told Cara he needed something frivolous like wool socks, and he asked if she wanted to offer her expert hiking opinion. She didn’t hesitate to say yes.
Ladies and gentleman, it was time to put Phase One of Mission: Directing Gael Away from the Wrong Girl into action. I have a whole treasure trove of proven ways to nip romance in the bud, and with Gael, I was prepared to use any and all within my reach.
Without further ado, behold my handiwork:
First Defense: Annoyance
“Hey!” Cara said eagerly, as she hopped into Gael’s car. He’d been idling in front of her dorm for ten minutes past their agreed-upon pick-up time, but she didn’t apologize. She buckled her seat belt as Gael pulled away from UNC’s South Campus and back toward Highway 54.
“I’m glad you were down to come,” Gael said, opting to forgive her lateness. “I remembered you saying you needed hiking boots.”
Cara smiled, pulled her long hair into a ponytail, and leaned back in her seat. “Indeed, I do.”
She put her feet up on the dash, something Gael always hated, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned up the volume as his new favorite song came on.
After a few seconds, Cara switched to a country station without even asking.