The Crush Dilemma (Dear Aubrey Book 1) Read online

  The Crush Dilemma

  by

  Susan Hatler

  The Crush Dilemma

  Copyright © 2016 by Susan Hatler

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  Titles by Susan Hatler

  Kissed by the Bay Series

  Every Little Kiss

  The Perfect Kiss

  Just One Kiss

  The Sweetest Kiss

  A Christmas Kiss

  All About That Kiss

  Better Date than Never Series

  Love at First Date

  Truth or Date

  My Last Blind Date

  Save the Date

  A Twist of Date

  License to Date

  Driven to Date

  Up to Date

  Déjà Date

  Date and Dash

  Treasured Dreams Series

  An Unexpected Date

  An Unexpected Kiss

  An Unexpected Love

  An Unexpected Proposal

  An Unexpected Wedding

  An Unexpected Joy

  An Unexpected Baby

  Young Adult Novels

  Shaken

  See Me

  The Crush Dilemma

  The Crush Dilemma

  by

  Susan Hatler

  Chapter One

  I’d been the good girl so long I felt ready to burst, but I may have just found the perfect outlet to unleash my rebellious side—if I could get up the guts to take the plunge. Nerves crept up my spine, and I knew my entire future would be at stake if this experiment went awry.

  Being a reserved teen geek wasn’t fulfilling me, but I wasn’t dumb. I needed to ensure my carefully planned life didn’t explode during my quest for adventure or all I’d worked so hard for would be gone.

  Maybe I shouldn’t take this chance.

  Sitting on my homework-piled bed, I closed my eyes, remembering the day’s events—all of which were nudging me in the direction of “just do it already.” My little brother had called me “Butt Face” and when I asked my mom to have a talk with him she told me to be the bigger person. My history teacher, Mr. Erickson, asked if I’d be a volunteer tutor for two of his students—which would mean even more after-school responsibilities. Then my best friend, Beth, made me recite The Sacred Pact, our outdated oath to engage in only “productive fun” (read: studying or volunteering at the pet shelter, not doing our nails or going to the mall).

  How did I respond to these incidents? I’d refrained from pointing out that my mom played favorites. I’d politely agreed to tutor Mr. Erickson’s students in U.S. History. And I’d even recited The Pact with Beth, though I no longer believed in our pact’s monotonous merits. I’d been real forthright in my opinions . . . not. Frustration coiled within me at my wimpiness.

  If I wanted to change, the time would be now or never. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t let this opportunity pass by. This experiment was the perfect, safe way to be more . . . well, me.

  I turned to gaze at the phone on my desk. Five minutes ago, I’d hung up with Ms. Peters, the school newspaper head/college advisor/science teacher, and my mentor. I’d told Ms. P about my idea to write a teen online advice column for the school and she’d given me the green light.

  Since my secret career goal was to become a psychologist—via Stanford University, pretty please—this online advice column would be a fascinating psych project. Plus, the column would qualify as extra credit in my journalism class—not that I needed the boost in grades with my 4.2, but padding my résumé always gave me a glowy feeling inside.

  Chills rolled through me, a mix of excitement and terror. This advice column would be an offshoot of San Felipe High School’s newspaper, but technically wouldn’t be endorsed by the school, so I could run the column however I wanted—well, “within reason” she’d said. I assumed she meant to keep it clean, as if I’d do otherwise.

  Most importantly, though, I’d create a secret identity, which meant I could finally call things like I actually saw them—without having to worry about pleasing everyone.

  Having an alternate identity would be like living a double life. One life where I continued to be the usual me—studious, industrious, and a total “good girl,” which made my friends and teachers happy, and my mom proud. And another life where I could let loose a different side of me and speak my mind—right or wrong, without having to meet anyone’s expectations besides my own. Finally!

  Okay, I needed to do this. For my own sanity, if nothing else. A slow smile spread across my face. Now that I’d made the decision, I itched to send out a mass email announcing the teen advice column to the students of San Felipe High and hopefully hook some guinea pigs in need of my opinion. But first, I needed to think of a name for my alter ego.

  I tapped my finger against my cheek. With my name being Poppy Rose Pinkleton, my new persona could be a spin off of my middle name. Like . . . Rosangela! Eh, too exotic for an advice columnist. Ooh, maybe Rose? Nah, too subdued. Scarlet? A little too feisty.

  I dropped back onto my bedspread, threw my arms over my head, and blew out a breath. None of those names were quite right. Hmm. . . Sitting up, I opened my laptop and browsed the Internet. After a few simple keystrokes, there it sat, all lit up on my computer screen. The ideal name for my alter ego. . . .

  Aubrey.

  The definition of Aubrey was “one who rules with magical wisdom,” which fit perfectly with my expectations. I’d be in control of my online experiment, online identity, and would shell out my wisdom to the masses while tracking the results for my mini-thesis. Finally, I’d be able to say what I wanted and be who I wanted without disrupting my “good girl” status. Yes, Aubrey was simple, smart, and very moi.

  Students could ask Aubrey any question they wanted. I’d give my best advice and require them to tell me the results of my advice, so I could test my hypotheses. I’d be speaking my true mind, helping people, and testing the waters of my future career. Perfect.

  My column would be called: Dear Aubrey.

  Let the experiment begin. . . .

  Chapter Two

  http://www.dearaubrey.com

  Dear Aubrey,

  Oh, wow! The school email I just got about your new advice column was like a sign. I’m desperate for help. My boyfriend wants to copy my homework. You know, that annoying take-home quiz Mr. Erickson makes us do each week? Should I let him mooch off me? I want to say no, since he didn’t help me study at all, but I feel kinda bad. He needs to maintain a C in U.S. Hi
story or they’ll kick him off the basketball team. I don’t want that to be all on me.

  Normally I’d say no prob, but he went to a party without me last night after he promised to study for the quiz. I think he may have cheated on me. Am I freaking out over nothing? I mean, why else wouldn’t he have asked me to go with him?

  Confused

  Dear Confused,

  Sounds like what’s really bugging you is this party. Did your boyfriend stray on you? If you have to ask, the answer is always: DUMP HIM. He’s either cheating or you don’t trust him enough not to cheat. Either way you’d be better off spending your evenings with a good book.

  Stay real,

  Aubrey

  HYPOTHESIS: Teenage girls get cheated on.

  PURPOSE OF EXPERIMENT: If teenage girls raise their expectations, will teen boys rise to the occasion?

  CONCLUSION: To be determined.

  ****

  I strode into the cafeteria at lunch time, feeling totally invigorated. I’d just checked my advice column in the computer lab and had a major high from my first write-in for Dear Aubrey. Yay! Telling that girl to dump her untrustworthy boyfriend was something I’d never say to anyone in a million years. But Aubrey had just laid it out there, and helping that girl had felt good. Colossally good.

  My gaze landed on Beth, who was waving her arms in the air like a crazy person in a boisterous effort to get my attention—an unusual gesture since we ate lunch together every day and had done so for the past two-plus years. I mean, where else did she think I would sit?

  Wondering what was up with my best friend’s hysteria, I made my way over to our usual table with my brown bag lunch. “Over-indulging in your sugar intake?” I joked.

  “It’s about time you got here, Poppy!” She wiggled so hard in her seat that the table vibrated, causing her open yogurt container to inch away from her.

  I sat down across from her and pulled out my cheese sandwich. “Excited?”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Oh, did you already hear what happened?”

  “No, I haven’t a clue,” I assured her, since she was obviously dying to spill whatever news she had to tell me. “What have you got?”

  “Well, brace yourself . . .” She did a dramatic drum roll with her index fingers on the table before freezing both arms in the air. “Amber broke up with Jake.”

  My mouth fell open and my sandwich simultaneously slipped out of my hand, then it plopped onto the table. My sandwich, not my mouth. Had she really just said my long time crush was finally single? My heart jumped in my chest. “What?”

  She crossed her heart and raised her right hand. “The split happened seven minutes ago in the courtyard while you were . . . well, where were you?”

  “Um, what? What?” I asked, blinking in what I hoped passed for an innocent expression. Normally, I didn’t believe in repeating words. It’s unimaginative and there’s a huge collection of cool words out there. But I couldn’t tell her I’d been checking on my secret advice column. If anyone, even Beth, discovered Aubrey’s true identity, then that would pretty much ruin my whole mental outlet goal. “Wait. Are you sure Amber and Jake broke up?”

  She nodded. “I confirmed with two sources. The rumor is true.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Old crushes died hard. “I-I’m in shock.”

  “It blew me away, too. I mean, I thought they would last forever. They’ve been together since junior high. They were voted Homecoming King and Queen just last month.”

  “You’re stating the obvious,” I pointed out. She had asked me to alert her when that happened to help her move on. Personally, I admired her habit of speaking her thoughts aloud.

  “Thanks, and here’s another tidbit you probably don’t know.” She leaned toward me, her voice hushed and conspiratorial. “Last night, while you, Mason, and I were having that study marathon at your place, there was a huge party at Daniel Baker’s house—”

  I held my hand up. “Wait, who’s Daniel Baker?”

  “He just moved here.” She nudged her head in the direction of the It table, and at a boy with short, sandy-brown hair who wore a blue muscle-shirt like nobody’s business. He dodged left, then right, and finally shot an invisible ball in the air. “He’s on the basketball team,” she added.

  “I kind of guessed,” I said, thinking I might have to start attending some basketball games. I watched the insanely attractive boy proceed to dribble an invisible ball. The girls at that table kept their gazes glued on him, following his every move. Jake sat at the opposite end of the table and didn’t seem thrilled with the attention going to the model-hot new boy.

  “You’re gaping,” Beth said, in a “caught you” voice.

  “Oh!” I whipped my head away from the newbie and back to Beth. I wanted to return to our conversation but couldn’t, for the life of me, remember our topic of conversation. All I could see in my mind was replay after replay. I cringed. “Refresh my memory?”

  “Daniel’s party.” She smirked, giving me a knowing look. “Jake went without Amber.”

  “That’s hard to believe.” I shook my head to clear another high definition replay in my head of Daniel Baker pretending to shoot hoops. I forced myself not to look over at the It table again, even though I so wanted to see what he was doing now. Get it together, Poppy. I cleared my throat, forcing my thoughts back on the guy I’d been crushing on forever.

  Beth raised a shoulder. “Well, according to Mason, Jake was scamming on some other girl at the party and totally hooked up with her.”

  “What? He couldn’t have done something so skeevy,” I said, stunned at the mere thought. And, yeah, Jake and I hadn’t had a real conversation since the sixth grade, but he’d always been an honest boy to the core. When I’d confessed my crush on him back then, he’d flat out told me he only thought of me as a friend. Brutal, but honest. Even with a broken heart, I had to respect that. “How did Mason find that out when he was studying with us last night?”

  “He refused to reveal his source.” She raised a brow, telling me she was annoyed that he wouldn’t give up the name. “Mason’s information is usually accurate, even though Jake’s infidelity does sound unbelievable. I mean, Jake cheat on Amber at that party? Get real.” She shrugged. “But that’s the rumor floating around.”

  “Intriguing . . .” I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher the possibility of Jake cheating on Amber. Wait a minute. A party last night? Possible cheating? This sounded strangely familiar. I chewed on my lower lip, and then flared my eyes when the realization hit me. No way! “Hey, did you happen to read the Dear Aubrey post this morning?”

  She looked momentarily confused at the change of subject. “Do you mean that new online advice column for the school? N-No, I didn’t read it. Why? I mean, don’t you think it sounds frivolous or something?”

  “It’s a respectable offshoot of the school newspaper,” I said, defending my honor even while I tallied up that Amber, the It-est girl of the It crowd had clearly written Dear Aubrey as Confused. I mean, that had to have been her since: 1) Jake’s on the basketball team; 2) Jake went to a party last night without his girlfriend; and 3) His girlfriend just dumped him. Freak coincidence?

  I sincerely doubted it.

  Amber had written Dear Aubrey and had acted on Aubrey’s advice. My advice! Adrenaline rushed through my veins. The number one It girl valued my opinion. Wow. Too excited to keep this thrilling revelation from my best friend, I opened my mouth to spill my secret identity to Beth—

  “Uh, Poppy?” She waved a hand in front of my face. “You okay?”

  “I . . .” As much as I wanted to confide in my best friend, as much as I knew I should tell her, I suddenly feared my column broke The Sacred Pact we’d written in junior high since the column’s post had involved parties, cheaters, and not just advice on homework. The Pact was old and outdated, but it had bonded us as best friends and it meant the world to us. Well, currently only to Beth. I, on the other hand, was beyond ready to, well, grow up and mov
e on. I needed to divert the conversation. “I, uh . . . who did Jake allegedly hook up with?”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Close call. Whew! Anonymity still intact. The Sacred Pact still not broken. Well, maybe by “online” me, but not by “real life” me.

  “Mason didn’t know for sure who the girl was.” Beth reached for her yogurt, stirring the spoon around inside the plastic cup. “When you see him in your journalism class, why don’t you ask if he’s found out anything new about what happened?”

  “Good idea.” I had no doubt Mason would get the dirt. He was the smartest person in school and had the best ear for discovering gossip and then substantiating whether or not the information was true. Beth, Mason, and I had been best buds since junior high when Mason and Beth had french-kissed outside the auditorium after the school play. It had been a dare to Beth by yours truly since I’d suspected they had crushes on each other, but apparently I’d been grossly in error. The kiss must’ve been bad, too, since neither have ever spoken about it and Beth changed the subject whenever I brought it up.

  “Poppy? You don’t seem like yourself today . . .”

  “Just processing the news.” I shifted my gaze around the cafeteria. At each aluminum table, teenage heads clustered together. Whispers and murmurs buzzed. I turned back to Beth. “Do you think everyone’s talking about Jake and Amber?”

  “Of course. It’s the biggest news San Felipe High’s ever had.” She threw her hands in the air and her yogurt top flew across the table and stuck onto my boob. Her eyes bulged and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oops, sorry! I’m such a klutz.”

  “Oh, no.” I removed the top and stared down as raspberry liquid dripped off my white polo shirt. My cheeks heated. I dreaded drawing attention to my embarrassing 32Ds, and Beth’s error so didn’t help in that area. I grabbed a napkin, and began wiping the pink goop off my boob. I cringed, thinking this mess had to be karmic payback for acting shallow by gossiping over jocks and their swoon-worthy new basketball player. Feeling guilty, I blurted, “Bethany Ann Cooper, we need to stop gossiping and refocus our attention on the integrity of The Pact.”