My Clueless Broken Heart (School Dayz #3) Page 3

  “Travis, you appear to be overwhelmed by my granddaughters.” Gran breezes in the room, running a hand through her short gray hair. “Avery, contain yourself. Mr. and Mrs. Talbot are here.” Somehow my sister manages to quit laughing and politely greet our neighbors.

  “Becca, darling, what an improvement.” Mrs. Talbot crushes me in her spindly arms and presses her cheek to mine. I assume she’s referring to my wardrobe selection.

  The Talbots have three grown daughters, all of whom have moved far, far away, which is why their parents spend Thanksgiving with us. I’ve never been told the actual reason for the girls’ distance, but at the very least, it’s a huge coincidence.

  “It’s all for…” Avery starts to say, until I whip my head around shoot her a threatening glare.

  “How’s eighth grade, Avery?” Mrs. Talbot asks. “I remember how much my Christina enjoyed her last year before high school.”

  “School is fab, Mrs. T. I have a huge locker this year and the gym was fixed up over the summer. There’s even a ballet barre, so I can squeeze in extra practice during my free period.”

  “Lovely. You were always such a graceful young lady,” Mrs. Talbot says. Pressing her thin lips together, she refrains from adding that in this respect Avery is unlike her older sister. I lack my sister’s grace and flexibility, although I can launch a soccer ball in the air like a rocket and outrun the wind when I need to. Rather than listen to Mrs. Talbot express her opinion of my talents, I excuse myself at the sound of the doorbell.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Becca!” Val meets me in the hallway. She and her sister Corinne, who’s Avery’s age, spend the holiday with us every year, along with their parents. Except for the six-inch height difference, the Villanueva girls look like twins with their glossy dark hair and deep brown eyes.

  “We need to talk.” I take Val by the arm and drag her into the game room, checking for Travis. He’s nowhere in sight.

  “Did Coach Dani call you, too?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “She’s already checking up on us?”

  Val waves her hand. “She wants me to join a gym. They have some special program for soccer players and she thinks I need to bulk up.” Pushing up her sleeve, she curls her thin bicep. We both laugh.

  “You need to stop charging people twice your size. She can’t afford to have you go down with a broken leg right before playoffs.” I knock wood on the coffee table, just like Gran does every time she voices the bad thoughts crossing through her mind. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you something. I have a date tonight.”

  Val feigns shock and awe. “A date? With not-Will?”

  “Yes. Not. Will.”

  “Who is it? Someone from school? Will might kick his ass.”

  I snort. “Will hasn’t talked to me since we broke up. I don’t think he cares. Anyway, I’m going out with Travis Brennen. He graduated last year. And he’s here somewhere. Do you mind if we sit with him?”

  Val’s eyes widen. “You mean neighbor-Travis? He never hangs out with us.”

  “I guess college changed him.”

  “This is good, right? Because we like Travis?” Val places her hands on my shoulders and shakes an answer from me.

  I smile. “Yes, we do.”

  “Travis Brennen,” she repeats. “We are definitely sitting with him. Did he bring home a college friend?”

  Just then, Melinda Banner strolls in with a tall, dark-haired guy.

  “And who is this?” Val asks, her mouth forming a small o.

  “Melinda’s new boyfriend. I think his name’s Connor.”

  “Sheez. I’m totally missing the gossip train lately. She broke up with Ty?”

  “They were never really together,” I say. “And she seems much happier now.”

  “I’d take Ty,” Val muses. “But the new boy’s pretty decent, too.”

  Melinda waves to us before dragging Connor over to meet Gran and Mrs. Talbot. Melinda’s much better at polite socialization than most of our junior class and soon the adults around her are laughing and smiling. After everyone shakes hands, she and Connor head over to our group. With Connor around, I keep quiet about Travis. I would’ve texted Melinda last night, but then my date with Travis would’ve seemed real. It still doesn’t seem real.

  “Dinner is served,” Gran announces.

  Avery, Corinne, Val, and I heap our plates with vegetables, stuffing, and turkey. Melinda loads up on salad and Connor swings by the self-service bar to grab a round of drinks. I lead the charge toward the sunroom, on a hunch that Travis will stick close to the spot where I left him.

  He’s there, of course, sitting with his dad, my former nanny Mrs. Hunter, Gran’s landscape designer Joe Bloomfield, (yes, his real name) and Joe’s wife, Heather, who’s hugely pregnant. Apparently, Gran also invited the entire construction crew Mr. Brennen scrounged up to renovate her kitchen earlier this year. The group’s laughing and loud, and beer bottles are strewn all over the table I’d set perfectly an hour before.

  “In here,” I say to my friends, sliding into the empty seat next to Travis. He’s busy arguing college football rankings with his dad and Joe. Among the people Travis considers family, he seems louder and larger than life; not the mild, laid-back guy who usually hangs around the fringes of Gran’s holiday parties.

  “Did everyone hear about Becca’s car malfunction?” Avery steps around Val and Corinne with the fluid movement of mini-ballerina and seats herself in the chair next to mine.

  Everyone turns to my little sister, who takes it upon herself to embellish the story. She raises her fork and points it at Travis. “Her car up and died in the middle of that big wind storm we had a month ago. The one that knocked out power for half a day. Travis saw her on the side of the road and rescued her. Then he went back and got her car.”

  Joe leans over and thumps Travis on the back. “Hey, man, you’re a real hero.” Joe raises his bottle and everyone else does the same. “Cheers to Travis!”

  “It wasn’t a big deal.” Travis’s voice barely rises above the laughter and applause.

  “No, you are a hero!” Avery insists. “Who knows how long it would’ve taken Becca to realize she was out of gas at the same time her battery just about died? She could have sat there for hours. Days, even.”

  Her comments elicit a new round of laugher. My face turns a lovely shade of red. I’m going to kill her. Slowly and painfully. Even Travis cops a smile at Avery’s dramatic retelling of the events. He reaches for my hand, resting on top of the table, and squeezes.

  “Becca why aren’t you eating in the dining room?” Mrs. Talbot pauses at the open doorway, her eyes zeroing in on Travis’s hand holding mine. He shifts away from me and reaches for his drink, hiding his face behind a glass of water. Mrs. Talbot’s gaze travels up to my face. “Mr. Belk is here. Remember the sizable donation he contributed to your parents’ wildlife charity?”

  On top of Avery’s comments, Mrs. Talbot’s reprimand feels like a sucker punch to my gut. My mouth falls open, but words fail me.

  “Not to worry, Jeanette, I’ve thanked George Belk on my daughter’s behalf.” Gran pushes past Mrs. Talbot, entering the room with a bread basket in hand. “Becca can stay where she is for now. I’m sure her additional gratitude can wait.” Gran sets the basket on the table. “Valerie, Corinne, Melinda, and Connor, enjoy your meal. All the young people together.” Gran links arms with Mrs. Talbot and they exit the room at the speed of a bullet train.

  I shrink into my chair, disgusted by my cowardice. I should have stuck up for myself with Mrs. Talbot. I should have told her where to shove her seat assignments, not let Gran do it.

  Light conversation filters through the room as everyone eats themselves into a state of over-fullness. Under the table, Travis rests his hand on my leg. “Don’t let Mrs. T. get to you. She’s a pain in the ass,” he says under his breath. “The food’s great, as usual. Did your grandmother let you cook anything this year?”

  I manage a smile. “Not much. She’s sti
ll a tyrant in the kitchen.”

  And just like that, we move on.

  “So Becca, what movie did you pick?” Melinda asks from across the table, after Val updates her on my evening plans.

  “I was thinking about the new action movie with Ryan Jamison.”

  Melinda’s smile widens. “Great choice. Ryan’s hot. And I’m sure Travis will appreciate his co-star, the skinny girl with the big chest, what’s her name?”

  “Madeline Lyons,” Travis answers.

  “Aha! I knew you would know her.” Mel winks at Travis. I wish I’d called her and told her about my date. Melinda is a follow-your-heart kind of girl and she’d understand how I feel about Travis. Even though I have trouble explaining it to myself.

  “Is that movie non-girly enough for you?” I ask him.

  He taps his fork on his plate, considering. “How many buildings get blown up?”

  “Uh….where do you find that exact information?”

  “Dude, Melinda dragged me to that flick last weekend,” Connor says, helping me out. “Awesome pyrotechnics. Half the universe is wasted.”

  The two of them do some guy fist bump thing across the table. Travis grins and my heart does one of Avery’s pirouettes right inside my chest.

  The rest of the meal continues conflict-free thanks to Corinne and Avery’s nonstop descriptions of male movie stars they categorize as hunky, buff, or ripped. When the girls launch into an analysis of specific body parts, Travis tosses his napkin on the table and heads to the dessert table. He returns with two slices of pumpkin pie, one for him and one for me.

  “Where’s mine, Travis?” Avery asks.

  He slides his plate across the table.

  I push the plate back. “Don’t. She’s spoiled.”

  “But you got one,” Avery whines.

  Travis laughs and sets off in search of more pie.

  “When can we leave?” he asks, returning with his dessert.

  A switch flips inside me, sending nervous energy flying from my heart to my fingers and toes. I pop up from my chair and grab a stack of empty plates. “I’ll just clear some dishes and change. Be back in five.”

  I flee the room, trying to catch my breath. Suddenly, our date feels monumental. Because this is Travis, the boy I’ve had a crush on for years.

  ***

  In the kitchen, Gran’s complaining to Mrs. Hunter about post-Thanksgiving cleanup. “Next year, paper and plastic, Nora. To heck with this environmentally friendly movement.” She notices me holding a stack of plates. “Leave everything on the counter, Becca, and go on your date. Plenty of time for washing and drying tomorrow.”

  I wrap my arms around her for a hug before sneaking up the back stairs and changing into jeans and a sweater. After shaking out my hair and reapplying lip gloss, I hunt down Travis, who’s now listening to Avery and Corinne complain about the tons of homework they were assigned over a holiday weekend.

  “Middle school is so much studying, Travis! You wouldn’t believe it,” Avery complains.

  “College is hard too. I have a paper to write before I go back on Monday,” Travis responds, appearing unconcerned. He stands when I enter the room. “Ready to go?”

  “Good idea to change,” Avery says. “Your dress was way too short for the movies. And it’s really too cold for sleeveless.”

  I nudge her with my elbow on my way out.

  By the time Travis and I say a round of goodbyes to the last dinner guests, we’re racing to make the late night showing. I hop into the truck and fumble with my seat belt.

  Travis reaches across to help me. “It sticks. I should fix it, but you’re the only person who’s used it in a long time.”

  Ooooh. Now I need to pry. “Is it … hard to date at college?”

  “Not for my roommates.”

  I’m mystified, but too nervous to ask a follow-up question. First date awkwardness sets in, even with Travis. Even though we’ve already kissed. Even though he’s known me forever. Dating’s just so darn complicated.

  We turn onto the main road, heading toward town, and I smack myself on the forehead. “Crap. I never thanked Mr. Belk.” I pull out my phone and type myself a text. “I’ll write him a note and ask Gran to give it to him when she seems him at the club. If damn Mrs. Talbot hadn’t gotten me so upset, I might’ve remembered to do it on my own.”

  Travis runs his fingers over the back of my hand. “You should deliver it in person. Show him how much you appreciate his contribution.”

  “Go to Gran’s club? No, thank you.”

  He shoots me a superior expression. “I know how much you love those silent auctions and charity balls.”

  “Not really. They’re intensely boring.”

  “Gives you the chance to check out all those rich dudes in golf pants.”

  The thought of eighty-year-old Mr. Belk’s polyester maroon golf pants launches me into a coughing fit. I tug on the seat belt, gasping for air. “No way!”

  Travis darts his eyes in my direction. “What’s so bad about guys in golf pants?”

  “Not that. I mean, yeah, that can get pretty … unattractive. But the forced interaction, in the club, where everyone watches every move you make … it’s uncomfortable. Small talk is hard.”

  “You’re not having a problem talking right now,” he wisely observes.

  I wave my hand in the air. “Yeah, but you’re Travis. You’ve known me forever. If I say something dumb it won’t bother me, because I bet you’ve heard me say something even dumber at some point over the last sixteen years.” I glance at my reflection in the window, praying I don’t have Thanksgiving leftovers caught in my teeth. “What do guys like to talk about?”

  Travis’s jaw drops in mock amazement. “Do you seriously think I’m going to answer your question?”

  I smile sweetly. “Don’t you want to help me improve my verbal skills?”

  “Becca, your verbal skills have hit their maximum potential. No improvement needed.”

  “Huh. I’ll give you a first date pass and take that as a compliment.”

  We drive for another mile. Travis flips through a couple radio stations before shutting the music off. “From what I’ve heard, you pretty much destroyed Will Gamen.”

  I glance away from the dark, empty road. “I broke up with him, that’s all. What did you hear?”

  If Avery fed information about my dating history to Travis, then she really does have a death wish.

  “I ran into Will this morning at the football field. Our unofficial Harmony High Alumni versus players Turkey Bowl, which wound up being a mud bowl. Anyway, he was shooting his mouth off. He didn’t realize I knew you.”

  My heart starts to pump harder. Will and I had our ups and downs. “Did he say he was still mad at me?”

  “He didn’t get a chance to say anything. Soon as he brought up your name, I offered to put my fist through his face.”

  “You threatened him?” I sink my head into my hands.

  Travis grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “He pissed me off.”

  “But the break up was my decision. He’s probably just upset. We’re in that awkward post-dumping period. The one where you say you’ll always be friends, but you’re really not.”

  Before I accuse Travis of unwelcome interference in my personal life, he veers the truck fast and hard into the theater parking lot. After angling into a spot, he leans over and lands a kiss directly on my lips. As his mouth lingers on mine, my frustration deflates and a fog of romantic amnesia rolls through my brain. Suddenly, I can’t remember exactly why I’m mad at him.

  “My last chance to kiss you before the movie. I had to take advantage of it,” he explains. “Also, kissing quiets you down for a while.”

  My eyes narrow. “How smart of you. And now I know what to do if I want you to kiss me.”

  “I always want to kiss you. But talking is cool.” Hands linked, we stroll into the County Theater, a square blue building constructed in an age when Art Deco was p
opular. The deserted lobby smells like stale popcorn even though the snack bar is closed. Because this is Harmony, population only slightly higher than the number of gorillas in Antarctica, we practically have the place to ourselves. Most local movie goers are willing to drive two towns over to find the modern 24-screen multiplex, but personally, I love the charm of our hometown cinema.

  Inside Theater A, the screen is smaller than Gran’s new ultra-high-def TV, the seats are divided by a stationary armrest (an uncomfortable feature for those of us here on a date), and the audio crackles so much that the voices sound like they belong to extra-terrestrial actors.

  But tonight, I’m not concerned with acoustics. As the movie flickers in front of us, I’m only dimly aware of moving figures, car crashes, occasional shouts and an explicit love scene that has me hiding my face behind my hands, grateful for the cover of darkness.

  With Travis mere inches away, the air fills with his scent, soap and guy shampoo, so different from the cologne rolling off the country club boys like Will and his friends. I sigh to myself, loving the realness of Travis Brennen. Halfway through the movie, I sneak a glance his way and find him watching me. A building bursts into flames and the light flickers in his blue eyes. The movie sirens and actors’ screams fade away when Travis wraps his arm around me.

  The second half of the movie blurs by (spoiler alert: Ryan Jamison saves the world). Travis and I share a flurry of breathless kisses. The armrest jabs into my side, but I barely register any pain. By this point, I don’t care who triumphs over the evil aliens. Travis isn’t paying attention to the on-screen explosions. I just want out of this theater, and by the way his lips press against mine, I think he does, too. We kiss until the first credit crawls down the screen.

  “Let’s go.” Grabbing my hand, Travis springs from his seat and pulls me through the crushed velvet curtains leading to the exit, shoving the door open with his shoulder. Cold air sails over my face, and it feels strange not to have Travis’s mouth touching mine. At that thought, I step away from him, fighting to collect myself. What just happened in the theater … I’ve never kissed a boy in public like that. Thank goodness we sat way in the back.