The Crush Dilemma (Dear Aubrey Book 1) Read online

  My gaze drifted back to the It table, and I locked eyes with Daniel.

  My belly fluttered. This time I kept my gaze on his and raised my brows in a ‘what was that all about?’ kind of way.

  He gave an exaggerated shrug.

  I smiled—thrilled that he’d noticed me and that we’d had communication, albeit the non-verbal kind. I turned back to my lunch, and found Beth’s mouth hanging open.

  “Were you just flirting with Daniel Baker?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, lamely.

  She leaned forward, her eyes lighting up. “I take it the tutoring session went well yesterday?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged, hoping she’d get the hint I didn’t want to talk about the tutoring session. Despite my possible flirtation with Daniel, my crush on Jake was still alive and thriving. I didn’t want to admit to Beth that my first exchange with Jake in seven years had been him asking to copy my answers to our take-home quizzes. Not exactly the romantic scene I’d envisioned. Part of me dreamed he’d show up to tutoring today, apologize for the inappropriate request, and then invite me to go to Trish’s party with him. Such a laughable long shot.

  “Hmm . . .” Beth’s mouth worked a moment, but she took the hint and didn’t ask any more about tutoring. “Want to go to the mall after school? I’d love your help picking out something for me to wear to the party Friday night.”

  “I have to tutor again.”

  “Jake and Daniel?” she asked.

  “Yep.” I glanced over my shoulder, my gaze stopping at the end of the It table. My mouth went dry. Trish had returned and was sitting next to Daniel again. She touched his bicep, and then giggled. Watching them made my stomach coil, but I couldn’t force my gaze away.

  “So, tell me honestly,” Beth said, her voice slow and careful. “What happened in tutoring yesterday?”

  “Let’s put it this way . . . if the session doesn’t go better today, then I’m going to talk to Mr. Erickson about finding a replacement tutor.”

  “Make sure he considers me.” Beth laughed.

  I gave her a look, but couldn’t muster up a smile back. My gaze kept returning to the It table. Did Daniel like Trish? I had to admit she was kind of pretty, if you were into that teen magazine model kind of perfection. But did she have a 4.2 GPA? Or a secret advice column? No, didn’t think so.

  Plus, the girl had no loyalty. She’d fooled around with her best friend’s boyfriend—well, she was the most likely culprit anyway. But then again, Daniel wouldn’t know any of that. I let out a breath, deciding to push these random thoughts out of my mind, reminding myself that my crush was on Jake, not Daniel Baker.

  Chapter Six

  http://www.dearaubrey.com

  Dear Aubrey,

  Just saw the last post and am still trying to figure out how a person can SOUND hot. Anyway, never in a million years did I think I’d write to a public advice column, but I need a female opinion, so here goes.

  I’ve noticed a girl at school and am wondering how I can tell if she likes me. I’m getting mixed signals. Sometimes I think she might be interested, but she’s hot and cold. Not to sound like a wuss, but I’ve been through a lot lately and don’t need to get shot down on top of it.

  As a girl, what are your thoughts?

  In Doubt

  Dear In Doubt,

  I’m sorry to hear you’ve been going through a lot. Hope things get better for you soon! You sound like a good guy, and I’ll tell you honestly what I think. If this girl liked you, you’d probably know it. Plus, you’re already having a hard time. Do you really want the work of a girl who’s hot and cold? You deserve someone who makes you feel secure.

  BTW, you SOUND like a hot boy (ha-ha). Actually, you do sound like a NICE boy so make sure you find a girl who reassures you, not one who keeps you guessing. Good luck and please follow up with me on the results!

  Stay real,

  Aubrey

  HYPOTHESIS: Some girls toy with boys’ feelings.

  PURPOSE OF EXPERIMENT: Help boy find nice girl.

  CONCLUSION: To be determined.

  After posting my response, I closed out my cell’s screen and shoved my PE clothes into my backpack. I noted my clothes were still sweaty—from participating in basketball, thank you very much. Mr. Santiago was so unfair. I needed to find a way to convince him of my active participation in order to bring my grade up, or I’d ruin my chance at my dream university. I would not let that happen.

  I’d become the participation queen, even if I had to tutor every student in P.E. to get them to pass me the ball. For some reason, the word “tutor” struck a nerve in my chest. Wait a minute. . .

  I glanced at my watch, and gasped. How was it already past three o’clock? I must’ve moped after journalism class longer than I thought. I was supposed to be in the library tutoring Jake and Daniel as of two minutes ago. I threw my backpack over my shoulder, then raced to the library.

  Breathing hard, I pushed through the library’s doorway, barreling inside. My gaze darted around frantically until I spotted Daniel at a corner table next to the book stacks. His gaze was glued to a thick book, but he lifted his head as I rushed over to his table.

  “You’re late,” he said, wearing a grave expression.

  “I’m so sorry.” Guilt washed over me since I’d chided him big time for being late yesterday. “Being late is irresponsible. Disrespectful. Something came up and I—”

  “No excuses.” He crossed his arms and raised a brow. “Would you mind getting here right at three o’clock tomorrow? As it is, we only have fifty-three minutes left for tutoring.”

  I flinched from hearing my own words thrown back in my face. But then I noticed his stony expression didn’t match the light dancing in his eyes. I dropped into the chair across from him. “You’re kidding around with me, right?”

  “Of course I’m kidding.” The corners of his mouth curved upward and he wiggled his brows. “What’s the big deal about a few lousy minutes between friends?”

  A zing zapped through my chest. He’d just called me his friend. Oh, wait. Did he really mean that? Or was he still joking around with me? Aubrey would’ve totally made him clarify, but I couldn’t muster the guts to ask him.

  Instead, I fiddled with the zipper on my backpack. “I’m sorry for getting all over your case about being late yesterday. Guess I overreacted a bit, huh?”

  “No problem.” He smiled, his green eyes with those intriguing gold flecks turning soft. He nudged my hand with his. “So, is everything all right?”

  My hand tingled from the brush of his skin against mine. Then the green slip I’d received in P.E. practically burned a hole through my jeans pocket. “It’s . . . fine.”

  He waited a beat. “Want to tell me about it?”

  Instead of pretending everything was great like I normally would, for some reason I found myself pulling the vile green paper out of my jeans pocket. I set the cold, hard evidence of my mediocre future down on the table in front of him. “This happened.”

  He lifted the paper, his eyes scanning the miserable lines before he looked back up at me. “You look exactly how I felt when I got my progress report for U.S. History.”

  I didn’t see how failing a class and getting a C in a class were even close to the same thing, but maybe he was just trying to relate. “I’ve had straight As since freshman year.”

  “And you think a C is fine with me? Why do you think I asked Mr. Erickson for a tutor?”

  “Huh?” I blinked, feeling like a moron since something didn’t compute here. Was Daniel passing his class or failing it? “I thought your basketball coach said you needed a tutor to bring your grades up to a C, so you could stay on the team.”

  He bent his head, giving me a quizzical side-glance. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Jake told me . . .” My voice trailed off and it was at that moment I realized there was an empty seat next to Daniel. Jake was late again. I glanced up at the clock, which showed: 3:17. “Jake ne
eds his grade up to participate in sports, so I assumed that’s why you were here, too.”

  Emotion flickered across his face. “You think Jake and I are the same just because we’re on the basketball team together?”

  “Well, I . . .” When he put it like that, I sounded pretty judgmental—forming an opinion without the facts, just like Mason always warned us not to do. “Sorry about that.”

  “No worries.” He folded the green paper and handed it back to me. “I’m not going to pretend to be a straight A student like you, but I’m not a C student either. I’ve just had a lot of distractions from school lately with my move, changing schools, and . . . stuff.”

  The seriousness of his tone stunned me into silence. I’d never had a boy open up to me before, especially not an It boy. I bit my lip, wondering what Aubrey would say to him. But, as usual, I could only think about the practicality of the situation. “It’s just a progress report, not the final grade. You still have a couple months to bring your grade up.”

  “Same to you.”

  “Touché.” My mouth twisted from side to side as I admitted to myself that this lame progress report shouldn’t be the end of the world—it just felt like it. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, though. We’re doing basketball in P.E. right now and I played the entire class. But the teacher says I need to participate. I don’t get what he means by that.”

  “Sounds like you need a basketball tutor.” The corner of his mouth hitched up, causing an adorable dimple to form. “I happen to know someone who’s on the basketball team. Since you’re helping him out in U.S. History, I’m sure he’d be willing to help you out, too.”

  At first I thought Daniel was talking about Jake—who still hadn’t bothered to show up to his free tutoring lesson—and then I realized he was offering to help me. I couldn’t believe it. “You’d really tutor me in basketball?”

  “Why not? You’re helping me with U.S. History.”

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “But, what?”

  I wanted to say, “But you’re popular!” or “You hang with the It crowd and I’m a total teen geek.” But, the way Daniel was looking at me—exceptionally confused by my question—made me keep my mouth shut.

  “Hello? Poppy?”

  “I, uh . . .” I thought of my pathetic grade in P.E. and his generous offer to help me. I felt awkward and oh so awesome at the same time. “I’d really appreciate your help. Thank you.”

  He smiled. “How about we start today?”

  “Today?” I gulped. Daniel Baker was really going to tutor me, Poppy Pinkleton, in basketball? There must be a full moon out. “First, we get through this assignment.”

  “Deal.” He smiled, tapping my arm with the end of his pencil.

  I smiled back at him. It wasn’t until after we’d finished going over chapter seven in the textbook that I realized Jake hadn’t shown up for tutoring at all, and that I didn’t really care.

  ****

  After our tutoring session in the library, Daniel and I headed toward the outdoor basketball court behind the gym. I wondered what people thought at seeing us together: Super hot basketball star with female Clark Kent look-alike, news at eleven.

  But I reminded myself we weren’t hanging out together for real. He’d only offered to tutor me in basketball in return for my helping him with U.S. History. But, still. Being with him made me feel all giddy inside. Aubrey would remember to stay calm and act confident in this situation, so that was exactly what I planned to do—maybe I’d even try flirting a little.

  “Show me what you’ve got.” Daniel stopped at the white-edged line on the basketball court, then passed the ball to me.

  Instinctively, my hands whipped up and I batted the ball away seconds before the big round thing hit me. The ball rolled pathetically back in his direction.

  He scooped the ball up and dribbled it with one hand while looking at me. “You were supposed to catch that.”

  “But it flew at me like a large orange bullet,” I protested, wondering if getting slammed by a ball was Mr. Santiago’s idea of “participation.” Then remembered I was supposed to be acting cool and confident. Not easy to do with butterflies going bananas in my belly. “Can I try again?”

  “You bet.” He grinned. This time he threw the ball so that it bounced on the ground before popping up at me—more slowly this time—and I managed to catch it.

  Yay, me.

  “Great job.” He pointed toward the basket. “Now shoot the ball.”

  I swallowed. “Uh, shoot it?”

  “Quickly, before the opposing team takes it away.” He rushed at me, his arms wide on both of his sides, and I couldn’t help noticing how muscular his arms were in that short-sleeved sports shirt. I so needed to focus.

  I vacillated between passing out from the thrill of this hot guy charging at me, pulling the ball to my chest to keep it from the “opposing team,” or chucking the ball down the court so I could flee out of harm’s way. The last option sort of called to me—

  “Shoot!” he shouted, only a few feet from me now.

  My gaze shot past Daniel, and up at the basket that seemed miles away. My heart pounded against my ribcage and I had to make the decision to let go—to participate. Gripping the ball between my hands, I bent my arms back behind my head, then thrust them forward and released the ball.

  In slow motion, the large orange globe soared toward the hoop, holding my dreams of Stanford in its flight as it rose up, up, up and way over the backboard. “Pathetic,” I moaned.

  “Just your first try.” Daniel clapped his hands and ran after the ball. “You’ll do better next time. Trust your instincts more.”

  What instincts? With that sad shot, I seriously had nowhere to go but up.

  I wanted to bury my head in my hands. But I couldn’t help admiring how fit Daniel looked as he jogged to retrieve the ball. Snap out of it, girl! I should be learning how to play basketball, not staring at my tutor’s muscles. I might’ve underestimated my current need for The Pact.

  Unaware of my unprofessional ogling, Daniel swooped the ball off the ground with ease, turned to look at the hoop, then shot from the sideline—and the ball swooshed through the net.

  At first I was duly impressed. Then I cringed, wondering what he must think of me and my botched basketball abilities. Confidence, Poppy, I could almost hear Aubrey whisper. She would so have the guts to flirt with Daniel right now. Maybe I should give it a shot.

  “You’re getting an A in P.E. Aren’t you?” I asked, then wondered if it was flirtatious to talk about grades. Well, preparing properly for college was an admirable character trait in my book and, thus, a worthy topic of conversation for flirting.

  He shrugged, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “We practice for two hours every morning before school. I’d better be getting an A.”

  I jogged over to where the ball had rolled after his shot, and picked it up. Tightening my jaw, I gazed up at the net with renewed determination and then threw the ball as hard as I could toward the basket. We both watched the ball soar through the air, slam against the hard rim, and then spring back toward me at a frightening speed.

  “Eek!” I ducked out of the way just in time and the ball missed my head by a hair. Did I really have to take a ball to the face in the name of participation? Ouch.

  Breathing ragged, I brought my hand to my chest. Okay, so I wasn’t stellar at sports. But I always attended class, dressed down appropriately, and exercised the entire time. Couldn’t I get an A for effort? How wrong was it that my entire collegiate future—and life of freedom away from my mom—rested on a game of basketball?

  Just then, music blasted from the gym, and high-pitched female voices wafted out in one word shouts. Cheerleading practice, I assumed. As if to confirm my suspicions, Trish Benson and Karen Warner rounded the back of the gym in their very short shorts and tank tops that, in my opinion, were a size too small. Trish’s face lit up when she spotted Daniel.

  “Hi, Daniel.�
� Trish waved her fingers at him, then her eyes shot to me, and she stopped in her tracks. Karen smacked into her from behind, gave her a playful swat on the arm, and then glanced over to see what had shocked Trish motionless.

  My cheeks heated as they stared at me like I had two heads. I hoped Daniel wouldn’t notice my had-to-be bright red cheeks. Luckily, he’d turned toward the two of them.

  “Hey, girls.” He waved at them, before jogging to retrieve the ball that had shot past me. He picked up the ball, bouncing it with one hand, while grinning at them.

  Karen ignored me, while eyeing Daniel suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

  A sick feeling came over me as I waited for Daniel to admit he was only tutoring me in basketball because I was helping him in U.S. History.

  But he just said, “Shooting hoops.”

  “With her?” Trish asked.

  The heat in my cheeks turned into scorching flames. Her tone made it sound like hanging out with me was akin to getting a bikini wax in the middle of the cafeteria during the lunch hour. I knew I should stick up for myself, but instead I felt my bottom lip quiver.

  Daniel stopped bouncing the ball. His gaze darted over to me and my had-to-be flaming cheeks, then back to Trish again. “Don’t you know Poppy?”

  In response, Trish leaned toward Karen and whispered something.

  They both giggled.

  I wanted to hurl from utter humiliation.

  “We’d better get back to cheerleading practice.” Trish tilted her head, winking at Daniel, and failing to answer his question about me. “Great seeing you, though. Have fun playing hoops.”

  Daniel strode over to me. “What was that about?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying to hide how much their ridicule hurt me. They had made it obvious that a hot basketball star like Daniel Baker shouldn’t be hanging out with a geek girl like Poppy-corn Pinkleton. But, I knew the real reason he was spending time with me. He obviously felt like he owed me for tutoring him for free and this was his way of paying me back.