Big Mistake Page 8

  I get in and start the car, turning the AC up to high and waiting a moment for it to actually get cold.

  Honestly, I don’t know about this online dating thing. I know plenty of people who hook up that way, but it doesn’t seem like the thing for me. I mean, I don’t even know this girl, and the minute we both swiped, the pressure was on. So I came up with the idea of asking Tasha to double date with Beck and … well, I hadn’t really gotten far enough to actually think about who she’d go with, but … you know. Someone.

  Apparently, Beck already has someone.

  Didn’t take her long, I think—but I don’t have any right to think that.

  I scowl and dial Levi as I drive back to Portland, routing the call through the car’s sound system so I don’t get arrested.

  “Hey, man, what’s up?” he says, his voice pitched low. He’s taking two classes this summer, hoping to get through school a little faster, and spends most of his days at the library.

  “I just talked to Beck.”

  “Finally! What did she say?”

  “She’s already dating some guy,” I say, spitting out the words like they taste foul. Which, come to think of it, they kind of do.

  “Wait, what?” I hear a squeak, and then the faint sound of traffic. He must have taken the phone outside. “Bri hasn’t mentioned any guy.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess the ladies don’t tell us everything,” I say. “She said she’s been dating some guy recently. Whatever that means.”

  “Seems to me she was banging you in a hotel room recently, man.”

  “That’s not relevant,” I snap.

  “Then what are you so pissed about?” he asks.

  It’s quite a reasonable question, isn’t it? So why does it piss me off so bad?

  “I just don’t like not knowing what’s going on with my friends.” I pass a slow-moving Camry.

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then: “Is that really all it is? Because I’ll tell you what, man, you sound jealous.”

  I blow out a breath. “Don’t start. I’m not jealous. I just … I look out for her.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he says. “Everyone knows. It’s practically a pathology. Have you ever considered what might happen if you didn’t think about her like she was a broken doll you have to keep in bubble wrap?”

  “What the fuck does that even mean?” I demand. I thought calling Levi to bitch would make me feel better, but so much for that. “You do it, too. We all keep Beck in bubble wrap. That’s, like, literally our whole thing.”

  “Yeah, that’s always been our thing. But we’re not kids anymore, and she’s not sick anymore. Maybe you need to let Beck grow up a little.”

  “And to think,” I mutter, “I was gonna ask you to help with the double date.”

  “Say what?”

  “I asked her to go on a double date with me and Tasha, and I was going to—”

  “Who’s Tasha?”

  “I matched with her on Tinder.” I pass another car. Why is everyone just ambling along like they don’t have anything to do or anywhere to be? “I’m taking her out on a date—double date—with Beck and, apparently, Beck’s new guy.”

  I hate saying Beck’s new guy. I fucking hate it.

  “Are you sure it’s July?” Levi asks. “Cuz it feels a lot like April Fools’ Day.”

  “What?”

  “You’re taking Beck on a double date.”

  “Beck and I have doubled before.”

  “Yeah, you’ve doubled before. Before that time you slept together. My dude, what is your major malfunction?”

  “I told you—”

  “I know what you told me. Now I’m telling you, you’re the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever met. If I wasn’t your best friend, I’d beat you for being dumber than dirt.”

  “What are you talking about? She hasn’t talked to me for weeks. She obviously doesn’t know how to get things back to normal. I’m trying to make this easier for her.”

  “Garrett, you’re one of the smartest guys I know. I mean, seriously. You’re, like, wicked smart. But this….”

  “Dude. I’m not an idiot. Spit it out—tell me what I’m missing here.”

  “No. You’re such a dumb ass, frankly, you deserve whatever you get. Where are you going on this fabled double date?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll text Tasha tonight, and we’ll decide.”

  “Who is Beck bringing?”

  “I don’t know. Just some guy she said she’s been seeing.”

  “Okay.”

  There’s a long silence, then I say it even though I fear I’m going to regret it: “Don’t you think it’s kind of soon?”

  “What’s kind of soon?”

  “Her seeing some new guy.”

  “She’s been single since the end of school. If she wants to date—”

  “No, I mean….” I decide not to push it. “Never mind.”

  “Oh my God. You don’t get to have it both ways, man. Either you’re just friends and she’s got a right to do whatever—and whomever—she wants, or you’re not, and you just swiped right on some other girl even though you want Beck. Which is it?”

  I know he’s right, but I hate that too. “I was hoping for a sympathetic ear,” I say. “What kind of best friend are you?”

  “One who can’t stand to watch you train wreck your stupid ass.”

  “I’m trying to get us back on the footing we were on before we took things down the—” I falter. “The road we went on.”

  “And this is what you came up with? This was your brilliant plan?”

  “You’re kind of a dick.”

  “Yeah, well, look at my fine example.” His voice is dripping with derision. “Garrett Crawford, king of the dipshits.”

  “Look—”

  “Just do me one favor,” he says. “While you’re on this absolute dumpster-fire of a date, I want you to do one thing for me.”

  “What’s that?” I stop at a stoplight and tap my fingers against the steering wheel, wishing I’d opted for loud music instead of this ridiculous conversation.

  “I want you to pay careful attention, and make a mental note when it goes completely and utterly to hell.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “So I can say I told you so, of course.”

  Then he hangs up.

  Fucker.

  Chapter 12

  Garrett

  I pay for parking in a lot on Franklin Street and walk down toward the pier, still trying to get Levi’s words from the other day out of my head.

  What does Levi know, anyway? I ask myself, just as I’ve been asking myself that for the last few days. It’s a harmless double date, like half a dozen Beck and I have gone on in the past.

  Tasha and I decided to do our inaugural double date on a dinner-and-dancing cruise on Casco Bay, and Beck agreed when I texted the info to her. It means we’re all stuck on a boat together for like three hours, but I figure if four grown-ass adults can’t manage to make small talk for a few hours, what is the world coming to?

  Plus, it gives me time to scope out Beck’s new guy. Make sure I approve. I disliked that Sam guy on sight, and look what happened there. It’s best if I get a good feel for this new guy before they get too serious. If I’d met Sam before he and Beck started sleeping together, I could have warned her away and spared her that—

  Oh my God. She’s not sleeping with this new guy already, is she?

  Just like that, my vision is hazed over with red. She’d better not be. He’d better have kept his hands to—

  I shake it off. Not my business. Not my business.

  Not. My. Business.

  Beck gets to sleep with anyone she wants. And anyway, Beck doesn’t just fall into bed with people.

  She just fell into bed with you, you asshole.

  Even my own brain hates me right now. Great.

  I text Beck. You guys almost here?

  Yes. See you in a few :)

  See? Smiley emoticon.
Take that, Levi. After tonight, Beck and I will be back on solid ground, and it’ll be like that weekend in Boston didn’t even happen.

  That thought makes my chest ache, so I decide not to think about it right now.

  Looking up, I catch the eye of a short girl in a sleeveless black dress, her blond hair in a fashionable pixie cut. Tasha, I’m pretty sure. I’ve only seen the couple of pics she had on Tinder, but this looks like her. As she approaches, I smile. She’s cute, and has been fun to text with.

  “Garrett?” she says, holding out a hand.

  I take it. “Guilty as charged. You’re Tasha?”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she says.

  “You, too,” I say. “My friend should be here shortly.”

  She nods, then turns to look at the boat docked at the end of the pier. “I’ve actually never done one of these before,” she says. “It sounds kind of kitschy and fun.”

  I nod. “It really does. Like, so lame that it’s kind of cool?”

  She laughs, a sort of low-pitched giggle. It’s a little like—

  Nope. Not comparing my date to Beck. Rude.

  “Do you think we’ll see the swans?” she asks.

  The swans are kind of an urban legend in this area, to the point that the town where my parents live is named after them. There’s a species of swan that lives in the coves and bays from here down to about mid-coast Massachusetts, and in certain lights they look like they’re blue. Legend has it that if you see a pair of blue swans—because, of course, being swans, they mate for life—you’re destined to be with the person you see them with.

  It’s a weird legend, and I’m just as happy not to have ever seen any such thing. I’m not quite twenty-four years old. I’m not ready to mate for life.

  And if that thought makes Beck’s face flash in front of me for a brief moment, so what? I’ve just got a lot on my mind.

  I shrug. “I’ve never seen them. I think they tend to hang out more a bit to the south.”

  “Of course,” she says. “Blue Swan Cove. You said you live there?”

  “Yeah—well, my parents do. But I’m staying with them in the summers while I’m in school.”

  We make small talk about me being in law school and her being in dental school. I’m glad I flossed.

  “Garrett!”

  I turn, and Beck’s heading toward us, with a tall guy next to her. He’s probably handsome—I’m not the best at judging that—and he definitely nailed the casual-dressy vibe for tonight in khakis and a nice button-down. Basically what I’m wearing, actually. Beck’s in jeans and another of those fucking fairy shirts—this one’s yellow with a floral print, and it floats around her like sunshine. Her hair is up in a perky ponytail, and she’s got her hand tucked in the crook of this guy’s arm; I feel a flash of that anger again, and squash it down. I’ve got literally no right to feel like that. Beck can date anyone she wants. Sure, I can have an opinion. I’m her lifelong friend and big-brother surrogate—

  But thinking that brings me back to that moment in her room at the Monroe, when she said You’re not my big brother—and everything that came after. I look at her, coming toward me on the arm of another man, and feel something I’m not entirely sure of. It feels like sadness, only tripled. It feels like the word despair.

  It doesn’t help that I can feel myself scanning their posture, trying to decide if there’s anything serious going on with them yet.

  Nice euphemism. The fact is, I want to know if she’s slept with him yet. I can lie to everyone else, but, honestly, what is the point of lying to myself?

  The two of them reach the spot where I’m standing with Tasha, and everyone looks at each other for a moment.

  “Hey,” Beck says. “I’m Rebecca, and this is Brady.”

  Beck and Brady. How adorable.

  “Hey,” Brady says, amiably, and extends a hand to me.

  I shake it, remind myself not to get into some kind of hand-crushing testosterone competition, and mostly succeed. Brady holds his own. Good grip. Firm gaze. I wonder if those eyes have seen Beck with no clothes on.

  I wonder how long it would take me to drown if I just throw myself in the bay right now and put myself out of my misery.

  “I’m Garrett,” say. “Nice to meet you. This is Tasha. Tasha, Beck.”

  Introductions complete, we all stare for another few moments. I very carefully do not do the alpha-staredown at poor Brady. What did this guy ever do to me? I’m being an asshole.

  Brady breaks the silence. “So this looks fun.”

  “Yeah,” Beck says. “Garrett’s full of good ideas.”

  “Let’s go,” I say. “I booked online and the tickets are at the office.”

  Together, we move over to get our tickets then head for the boat. It’s getting close to sunset, and there are quite a few people lined up to board. Everyone’s dressed to impress and looks ready to have a good time.

  So why do I feel this dread in my stomach? It feels like I’m about to take a test or something—one where I know all the answers, but there’s still a chance I’ll be asked something I don’t know.

  Oh, man, I hope Levi’s wrong. I hope we can just get through this night and come out the other side feeling how we used to.

  That’s what I want, right?

  We board, and a hostess leads us to a table. A waitress comes over and takes our drink orders, and after a few minutes of people getting settled all around us, the boat’s horn sounds as it reverses out of its spot at the dock. We’re underway.

  The four of us keep up a casual conversation as the food starts arriving. Brady turns out to have done some lobstering during his high school summers, and Tasha’s dad is a lobsterman, so they chat about that a little while I eat my crab cakes and keep a sharp eye out to see if Brady touches Beck in some way that will give me a clue what’s between them.

  After dinner and dessert, the hostess directs us to the top deck, where the DJ is all set up. There’s a bar, and I buy drinks for Tasha and me, and the four of us claim a small table near the rail. The DJ spins a few 80s tunes, and Beck and Brady cut up the dance floor pretty good. They seem to be having fun, but there’s no heavy vibe or anything between them, and I decide that whatever’s going on with them is still pretty casual.

  I ask Tasha to dance, and she turns out to be a pretty good dancer. We dance to a couple of up-tempo songs, and I try to enjoy myself and keep my eyes off Beck—but I can’t. I can only hope I’m being at least a little subtle.

  Then the music shifts to something slow—is that Bryan Adams?—and Brady pulls Beck into his arms and leans down to whisper something in her ear. She smiles up at him and puts her arms around his neck. I clench my fists and imagine smashing one into Brady’s stupid, probably-handsome face.

  Beck looks over and catches me staring. So much for subtle, I think, and then all my thoughts fuzz out and are replaced with an angry buzzing as she turns her face away and lays her head on Brady’s chest. They slowly sway to the music, Bryan Adams sings about a once in a lifetime love, and I count to ten, then to twenty, waiting for the rage to recede.

  It’s like the nightmare of watching Evan pouring sugar on her, only this time there’s nothing I can do. Last time this happened, I tried to stop her from doing something dumb—and look what happened. I can’t be trusted to decide what—or whom—Beck should be doing.

  “Earth to Garrett,” Tasha says.

  I look over at her. “Sorry,” I say. “I was distracted.”

  She raises her eyebrows and smiles in a way that’s more rueful than pleased. “I saw.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Tasha—”

  She stops me with a single raised hand. “I don’t even want to hear it,” she says. “And I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn’t ask me out intending to spend the whole night looking at someone else.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Then let’s dance,” she says, and moves in close to me. “Put your arms around me lik
e any normal human being would do right now, and try to look like you’re having a good time.”

  “What—”

  “And I know I’m going to regret it, but while we do this” —she circles her index finger to indicate this means us, dancing— “why don’t you tell me what happened with you two that you’re dating other people when you’re so clearly nuts about her?”

  I open my mouth to say that’s not accurate at all … but the thing is, I’m not so sure of that anymore. Instead, I go with: “She’s my best friend.”

  Why does that sound so hollow lately? So inadequate?

  “Ah,” Tasha says. “So it’s like that.” She shakes her head and pats my cheek with one hand. “I can’t believe I bought a new dress for this.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s a really nice dress. You look great.”

  She smiles, and it’s less rueful this time. “You seem like a nice guy,” she says. “Can I give you some advice?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t realize this, but your whole heart is in your eyes every time you look at her. A person would have to be literally blind not to see it. So why don’t you just … go for it?”

  I look down at her. She’s looking at me with that half-smile, and bizarre as it is, she sounds completely sincere.

  “Is this, like, the worst date you’ve ever been on?” I ask.

  She shrugs with one shoulder. “Well, I’ve certainly been on better, but sadly it’s by no means the worst, either,” she says, and then she laughs—a real, genuine laugh. “Brady’s cute, anyway.”

  The music ends, and the DJ announces that we’ll be docking in twenty minutes. Beck and Brady make their way toward the bar. I take Tasha’s hand and pull her off the dance floor as well. We arrive at the bar just as Beck and Brady do.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Beck says to me, and shows her teeth in something that might look like a smile to anyone who doesn’t know her.

  “Well,” I say, “last call.”

  “You might want to be careful,” she snaps. “You know how you get when you drink too much.”