Page 39 of The Bad Boyfriend Curse
“Okay, yeah, bad stuff happens, but the very first dumbthing I did because of a boy shouldn’t get me acriminal record. And there were no warnings signs. Gabe was a high achiever, popular, and well liked. He freaking volunteered at a family shelter, teaching young boys hockey. The curse isreal.”
He laughs again. “I don’t know, Noorani. It sounds like y’all have found a convenient way to blame the universe instead of society. Or instead of yourselves.”
I roll my eyes but don’t say anything. He may not believe it, but I one hundred percent believe in the curse. Which is why I have to make sure this stays fake dating between us, and nothing more. I fidget with my necklace while we walk. The houses in this part of town are similar to Noah’s. Row houses, semi-detached, or small two stories. Some are in terrible condition, but many have nice plantings and mowed lawns in front of them.
“So,” Noah says slowly as if he’s figuring things out. “You wanted your mom to think you’re into me because the curse is affecting your judgment, right? That’s why you wanted me tolooklike a bad boy?”
“Yeah, sort of.” I frown. I did pick Noah to fake date because he looks the part of a stereotypical bad boy… but also because he was the only one who was nice to me in CROP. Because he made me laugh with his cheesy tree puns. Because he’s the only person here who I want to hang out alone with.
And because he doesn’t want me to lose myself while I’m reaching for my goals.
Idolike Noah. A lot. And not just because I’m pretty sure there isn’t a better-looking guy in Cherrybridge, but also because he’s sweet, and amazingly talented, and so, soresilient. He’s so much better than this town, and I hate that he’s stuck here. But maybe, because of this damn curse, I shouldn’t be trusting my own judgment.
Noah doesn’t say anything for a while again. And I don’t say anything, because if I open my mouth, I’m afraid I’ll tell him how much I like him.
“Well, it’s a good thing our relationship isfake, then,” he finally says. “Because if we were really together, you telling me that you’re cursed to always pick the wrong guy would be a major hit to the tiny ego I have.”
Holy crap, he’s right. It would be a total insult—if our relationship were real. Noah has a little mischievous smile on his face. He’s making a joke.
I like that smile so much. Too much. I exhale. “Yeah, it’s a good thing it’s fake. Hey, you don’t mind that I came to check on you today, do you? I mean, I know this is a fake relationship, but we’rerealfriends, right?”
He smiles at me. “Yeah, we’re real friends, Noorani.”
I smile. The curse says nothing about me picking the wrong friends. I’ll be fine.
The next night, Mom and Jason are who knows where, but Mom orders me dinner from a Greek place. While I’m eating, Sadie calls and asks if she and her friends can come over to use Jason’s pool. She says they normally hang out in Kaitlyn’s pool, but her backyard is being redone. After texting Mom and Jason, who say yes (probably because they prefer me hanging out with Sadie and her friends instead of Noah and the CROP kids), I tell Sadie yes.
An hour and a half later, Sadie’s friends and I are in the backyard for an impromptu pool party. Sadie, Liv, Quinn, Kaitlyn, and I are on the lounge chairs near the fountain, and Reagan and James are in the water. I’m wearing a new purple, much more stylish swimsuit that Mom bought me, with black jean shorts. I was afraid that Sadie’s friends would bring alcohol again, but thankfully they didn’t bring anything but their swimsuits.
“So, how’s your jail sentence going, Meera?” James asks.
Reagan splashes her boyfriend with water. “Don’t be a jerk, James. She’s not injail.”
“Yeah,” Quinn says. “It’s community service. Something I’m sure you’ll be familiar with one day.”
Quinn is wearing navy swim trunks with an open white linen shirt, and his golden bronze chest is defined and toned. Honestly, Quinn is too otherworldly hot. He looks like he just stepped out of a modeling shoot, but it’s almost like he’s too perfect. Even his personality—the rest of the group will be goofing off, and he’ll be deep in thought. I remember what Liv said, that he’s intense, but she didn’t mean it in a bad way. Overall, I’m not sure what to make of Quinn, but he seems like a good guy.
I smile at Quinn to thank him for standing up for me.
“You totally don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he says, “but I’m curious. What is it you all are doing in the park every day?”
“Sprucing it up.” I chuckle at my tree pun, but no one else seems to get the joke. “We were weeding and pruning trees last week. This week we’re working on some garden beds nearthe entrance. Next I think we’re restoring the old music stage.”
“There’s a stage in that park?” Kaitlyn asks.
I nod, surprised that she didn’t know about it. I remember Noah’s comment the day I met him, about people who don’t cross the river.
“Yeah, it’s supercool,” I say. “It’s inspired by Victorian bandstands. It’s kind of falling apart now, but apparently, they used to hold free concerts on it years ago.” I don’t tell them that my stepfather used to sing there, because I’m still kind of shocked by that piece of information. “That’s where that folk singer from here was discovered. Maybe when we’re done restoring it, the concerts can happen again.” Judging by the number of people in Donut Den on open mic night, it would be popular.
Kaitlyn grins. She’s in an orange bikini. All the girls are in two-pieces. Maybe I should have asked Mom for a two-piece instead of a one.
“Yes!” Kaitlyn says. “When your dad becomes mayor, tell him to start those concerts again. Maybe get that scout to come back. I still can’t believe the scout wasn’t in Donut Den on Friday. What a waste of time.”
I don’t think it was a waste of time at all, because I got to see Noah perform for the first time. I sigh. I really need to stop thinking about Noah every thirty seconds.
“Jason might not win,” I say. It’s so strange that my family’s business is common knowledge. I guess it can’t be avoided since Mom married a public figure.
“He’ll win,” James says. “People are done with Peter McCrae.”
