Page 11 of That Boy (That Boy 1)
No call.
I told myself that if he didn't call in two more days, I would never speak to him again.
Then.
Two weeks.
Still no call.
By now, I'd given up hope of ever hearing from him again and convinced myself that it was just a dream. I also decided if he did ever call that I might speak to him, but only to make sure he was still alive because I am a concerned citizen. But after that, I was going to give that boy a piece of my mind!
Finally after two weeks and three days, he called and asked me to dinner. I wanted to scream at him, you freaking jerk, but I caved and said that sounds great.
I'm so dumb.
Hey wait a minute, I know Phillip never forgets anything, but I don't recall telling him this juicy piece of information. I haven't even told Lisa. I was keeping it to myself.
Hoarding it.
Plus, I seriously didn't want Danny to find out. Or Dillion, for that matter.
"Uh," I stammer, unsure how to answer.
"No, you didn't tell me he kissed you," he says, reading my mind.
I swear he can sometimes.
"I saw him all over you when he dropped you off."
"Phillip, were you spying on me?"
"Actually, no," he says in a believable tone. "I was seeing if your light was on."
Sure.
"Philllippp, what should I do?"
"What you should do is tell him you're busy, for once. But what you're gonna do is break up with Dillon and go out with him. Right?"
Okay, so the boy has me figured out. And he's right. That is what I'll do, but how can I help it?
Hot guy. Hot bod. Hot car. Trifecta. Triple Threat.
"So what are you gonna tell him?"
"Well, I already kinda said yes," I say, telling the truth this time.
"Told you. You're hopeless! Night, Princess."
"Night, Phillip."
I go to bed, thinking of Mark and willing myself to have a juicy dream about him. But instead, I have some warped one where Phillip rescues me from Mark's car because Mark has turned into some evil werewolf / vampire creature.
Bizarre.
Oh and my date on Saturday with Mark didn't go so well. I suppose my dream should have been an indication of what was to come. It seemed Mark decided, unbeknownst to me, that he wanted to be more than just friends.
A LOT MORE!
He took me parking before dinner, I said NO WAY, and he took me straight home. Aren't guys supposed to at least buy you dinner BEFORE they expect that? I was so upset, and of course, Danny is mad at me for breaking up with Dillon, and Dillon is still mad at me for breaking up with him.
Maybe I'll just give up on boys.
Okay, maybe not.
I mean they're just so cute!
Today is the perfect day for laying out in the sun. It's almost 80 degrees, and there is a soft cool breeze. I don't plan on wasting a day like today! So I'm in my room putting on my new swimsuit. I'm really excited about this suit. It's my first real bikini. I've always worn a 2-piece, but they were a more athletic cut. This is one of those wonderful, skimpy, stringy things. I've never bought a stringy bikini because I've always looked stupid in them. Let's face it, you've got to have a figure to wear a suit like this. I've never had much of a figure, unless you consider the shape of a board an attractive figure. Yes, I've heard all the sayings.
"Flat as a pancake."
"String bean."
"Toothpick."
"Tall drink of water."
"Bean Pole."
That's one I don't really get. I mean I understand the bean part, and the pole part, but what is a bean pole anyway? You'd think beings I'm from a place where beans grow in fields and that I have actually walked beans, that I would know, but I don't. Speaking of walking beans, I truly believe Congress needs to step in and enact some child endangerment legislation against that job.
Have you ever walked beans?
It's the most disgusting thing on earth. I lasted one day, well half a day, really. I just couldn't see mucking around in the mud and the sun with all the bugs, chopping down weeds with a scythe.
Yes, a scythe.
Do you know what a scythe is? It's like a huge, sharp, curved pirate sword.
And they hand them out to kids!
I am very fortunate that I didn't chop off one of my legs, while cutting down those stubborn weeds. That or the guy's leg in the row next to me. And I have to tell you, when you think weeds, you think maybe a few here and a few there, like at home in your landscaping. But NO, there are about a gazillion weeds in each row. And these weeds aren't just little things either, but often times are corn stalks. And it takes a lot of work to chop just one of them down. And I swear, each bean row must be, at a minimum, several hundred miles long.
At least that's what it felt like.
After about four hours of walking beans, I have to admit, I was ready to use the scythe on myself, just to make the misery stop. But then I figured I'd forever be remembered as the girl who killed herself in a bean field.
Not exactly the legacy I am hoping for!
So I quit. I'll take babysitting some cute kids as a summer job any day. You take the kids to the pool, flirt with the lifeguards and get a wicked tan. You go have ice cream, take the kids home and put them down for a nap. Then you sit in the air conditioning and watch Oprah and your soaps. A much nicer working environment, I think.
But back to the bean pole thing.
I looked it up on the Internet and guess what? There is such a thing as a beanpole. It's all one word. It is a thin pole used to support bean vines. Just what you would think, I guess, but I can tell you that I never saw one of them during my bean walking experience!
Where was I?
Oh, yeah, my bikini body.
It seems a strange thing happened this year. I went from a nonexistent A cup to a nice full B. Granted, Katie and Lisa have had boobs like this since about sixth grade - okay, so my body is a little slow - but I have to say, they were worth the wait! For once in my life, I actually fill out a bikini top on my own (as in, no padding) and it looks pretty good, I think. I almost feel sexy in it. Mom was with me when I found it. At first I thought it might be a little too skimpy, but she liked it on me.
She said, "If you've got it, flaunt it because once you have kids, your body will never be the same."
This from a woman who is 5'9" and a perfect size 6. She goes and works out three times a week with a group of friends. Although from the sound of it, I suspect there is more gossiping and coffee-drinking going on than actual exercising. However, she must be doing something right because she still wears a bikini herself and looks good in it. When we go on vacation to the beach, it's really kind of embarrassing because the young guys pay more attention to her than they do me.
Maybe there is hope for me.
Of course, I'd prefer not to have to wait twenty years before I get a boy to notice me in a swimsuit.
In all seriousness, I know there are large, really important issues in the world. World peace, terrorism, nuclear arms and global warming. But honestly, finding the perfect swimsuit has got to be at the very tip top of most women's list, regardless of race, religion, political, or sexual orientation. So in finding this perfect bikini, I really feel I've done my part to help conquer this great world issue.
I'm thinking about the bikini's big inaugural event. It will first be viewed by the public, and specifically Jake, who I've been dating off and on for about three months now, at a big river outing some of us are h
aving next weekend. Today my plan is to hide in the back yard and fill in my tan lines, so it really looks great.
I am prepared to lay in the sun all afternoon if that's what it takes.
I am so proud of my strong convictions!
I have the whole place to myself. Mom is at a volunteer meeting and Dad is at work. Jake would be pissed to learn that I'm home alone and not begging him to come over, you know, so we can be alone, but I'm not in the mood to deal with that today. It's too perfect of a day. So I put the stringy thing on and appraise myself in the mirror.
Not bad.
The bikini is of the string variety, like I said. It's supposed to look like the American flag. One side of the triangular top is blue with white stars, the other side is red with white stripes. The bottoms are also red and white stripes and all the stringys are made from the star fabric. It is really very cute.
I head out to the backyard, move my chaise into the sun and cover myself with a mixture of baby oil and iodine. I know, I know, no sun block is a bad thing. But my Mom used it when she was young, and she doesn't have cancer or anything. Plus, it works great! I lie down on my stomach first. Next to me is a table with an ice-cold diet Coke and a trashy novel to read if I so desire. Playing is my current favorite mix CD.
Aw. Perfection.
I close my eyes and start to daydream. I'm envisioning Jake's possible reactions to the tiny bikini. They have ranged, so far, from him wrapping me in a towel because he is so desperately jealous and doesn't want anyone else to see it, to attacking me with kisses out on a raft, to his fainting in amazement of my body, to.......
"Hey, Jay," a male voice says.
I open one eye and see Danny's head peeking through the gate.
"Come play catch with me and Mac."
Oh come on. Can't you see I am VERY busy!
"Aw, Danny, I can't. I've got oil all over me."
"Please Jay, I've got football camp coming up, and I haven't thrown a pass in two weeks."
"What about Kelly Majesky?" I reply smartly, referring to his latest in a long string of female conquests.
Really, if Danny was a girl, he would totally be considered a slut.
"Football passes, Jay," he says smoothly, rolling those baby blue eyes at me. "Come on."
"I can't, Danny. I really need to work on my tan today. I'm all set up here."
"When we're done, I'll take you and Phillip to the Shack for ice cream," he bribes in a singsong voice. "My treat. Come on, you can get a tan playing football. You play in a swimsuit all the time." He pauses. "Of course with all that oil on, you'll be harder to tackle. Maybe you'll give Phillip a run for his money. For once."
