My (Not So) Perfect Plan (Believe In Us #2)

TEN

CLAIRE

I’m almost to my first period class when I hear Evan call my name. It’s an unusual occurrence and it has me turning around before I realize what I’m doing. He’s standing right behind me, way too close. I jump back and then trip over something. He catches me, his arms around my waist, my eyes huge and my hands clutching his shoulders. Something shifts in his eyes. They look warm and oh-so-come hither.

“Hi,” he says, the side of his mouth twitching to avoid a grin.

“Hi,” I respond, breathless because I almost took a fall and he saved me like a superhero, and because he’s still holding me in his arms. He slowly stands me on my feet, his eyes looking regretful as he takes a scant step back. We’re still standing too close together, but I can’t bring myself to move away.

“I was wondering if you had any of those tickets left to sell. I need to buy four,” he says.

“Four?!”

“Yeah. Myself, mom, and dad, and my date.”

“Date?” I squeak, like it’s any of my business. I scramble to move past it like he’ll forget I asked. “Um, sure I have four tickets. Let me just get some information from you.”

I pull out the ticket sheet and start filling out information. My hands are shaking so bad that I screw up numbers and letters and have to cross them out and redo them a few times. The whole time my mind is circling around the words ‘my date’ over and over again. Why does it hit me right in the solar plexus to know he has a date? I don’t care. Because I have a plan. Plan. Plan. Plan. Date versus plan. Plan wins. My mind seems to want to do a thing of its own though because it goes back to his words like a toddler with a scab.

I’m putting away the $1200 he gives me into the envelope and wishing there was a way for us to be together when Tamara comes up to me, sees what I’m doing and does this jump squeal thing.

“Did you buy the tickets, Evan?” Her face is creased up in a grin so big I’m worried her face will crack. Um, and since when do Tamara and Evan talk like they are buddies? This situation is getting weird.

He grins at her and holds up the four tickets fanned out. She claps her hands together and twirls in a circle on one foot. “Ohmigosh! This is going to be awesome!”

I feel like I’ve entered some parallel reality where Tamara and Evan are friends and I know nothing about it. She starts asking him whether or not he got fitted for his tux yet and then they are discussing limo rentals. My mind can’t take it all in and my eyes bounce back and forth between them, clueless, and wondering why I am feeling so betrayed. I shouldn’t. Tamara knows there’s nothing there with Evan and I. Why should this be make me so uncomfortable?

Evan says he has to go. His eyes cut over to me and gives me another almost-smile.

“See you around, Claire.”

“F-for sure,” I rasp out. I clear my throat and offer a belated smile but he’s already turned away, walking down the hall.

“Oh snap!” Tamara looks at her oversize watch and then clasps me in a perfumed hug. “I’m gonna be late to class! Gotta go!”

The bell rings a few seconds later and I’m still standing there dumbstruck, trying to figure out what the heck just happened.

Raven joins me at the lunch table, Tamara-less, which is weird because the three of us always sit together at lunch.

“Where’s Tamara?” I ask, pulling out my sandwich. She had some ‘splainin’ to do.

He waves a hand behind his head. “Oh, you know. Off doing, um, gala stuff or something.”

Was he covering for her? Because that was really unconvincing. Was there a conspiracy? I take a bite of my sandwich, but it turns to sandpaper in my mouth. I decide that the best thing to do when doubting one’s friends is to lay it on thick. They can’t leave you out when you show them how much you appreciate them, right?

“You guys are really getting into it. Thanks for helping out,” I say.

His eyes flit up to mine over the orange he’s peeling. “Sure. No problem. But… speaking of the gala. We had a minor glitch with the venue.”

My heart just about stops and my eyes bug out.

“What glitch?” I’m hardly able to get the words out I’m so terrified to hear the answer. We have a ton of money riding on this and the tickets are already sold.

“The venue we were going to use was double booked. The other clients were willing to pay more than we were. And every other place is already booked.”

I groan and toss my sandwich on the table so I can bury my head in my hands.

“No, no, no,” Raven drops his hands holding the orange. “It’s being managed. We have another venue lined up.”

“I thought you just said all the other venues were booked out.”

“Well,” he shrugs his shoulders, “an anonymous donor put in a good word for us with a donor who happened to have some connections and it turns out we have access to one of the best, most exclusive ballrooms in the city.”

I clutch the edge of the table with both hands. “Raven. You are killing me. Where?”

“The Sansa Club downtown.”

I gasp and clap a hand over my mouth. “No. Way. They never rent that place out. It’s private parties only. How did you swing that?”

He waves an orange slice in the air. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. Like I said, anonymous donor managed everything.”

I slouch back in my seat, still not comprehending how this worked out, my mind spinning. “We can let all the seniors who haven’t sold out yet to inform interested parties that the venue has been changed, but what about all of the ticket holders?”

“We have their phone numbers. We can text them a change of venue information and an address.”

That would work. I rub my eyes with my fingers, grateful that I’m not the make-up wearing type.

“You really scared me, Raven.”

Raven gives me one of his rare grins. “Sorry not sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Would you rather I hadn’t told you?”

“Of course you had to tell me.”

We finish eating our food in silence. It’s not awkward but my brain is still going back to whatever the heck went down between Tamara and Evan before first period.

“So who was the donor?” I ask as we discard our trash.

“Can’t tell you that. That’s why it’s called ‘anonymous.”

“Fine then, smartie pants.”

Raven chuckles. “Fifth grade insults? Come on, Claire, you can do better than that.”

“Just tell me! You know who it is, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“So…?”

“Nope. I promised I wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it.” I scowl. Raven always keeps his promises.

I shake my head. “Weird. The gala has a secret admirer.”

He gives me an odd glance. “Yeah, something like that.”

The bell is about to ring so we part ways and head for our classrooms.

It seems like Evan is popping up all over the place recently, and when I least expect it. I thought we had reached a good place, if by good one meant basically no interaction and me almost hyperventilating every time he tutored me or every time he helped me break down my gala tent after football games. Admittedly, it’s only happened twice now and I’m wondering if it will happen a third.

Tamara talks my mother into giving me a night off on Thursday night. I know it’s not exactly in the plan, but I feel exhausted and scatterbrained. I figure it’s because I’ve been keeping myself so busy so I don’t have to think.

Thinking leads to feeling depressed, like I gave up on something beautiful and good, even if I know it’s not true. We make plans to meet up at Chuy’s, this little Asian eatery that has the best sushi I’ve ever had and then go see a movie. Since it’s not a girl’s night, Raven is going to pick me up. I get ready for it by applying a light layer of makeup and a sparkly shirt with a boat neck collar to go with my knee length skater skirt and strappy sandals. I’m not trying to impress anyone, but wow do I feel the need to look pretty right now, even if it’s only my friends that think so.

Raven whistles when he picks me up. “Trying to get someone’s number at the Asian restaurant?” he asks.

I laugh it off and thank him for the compliments before climbing into his car. It’s an older BMW, but with the way he babies it, you’d think it was just off the assembly line.

When we pull into the parking lot, Tamara isn’t there yet, so we sit in the car and wait.

A huge black truck pulls into the spot next to us and to my surprise Tamara jumps down, holding a milkshake. She walks up to the front of the car and waits for us, one hand on her stomach. I slide out, wondering what the heck is going on, but freeze in between Raven’s car and the one beside me. Evan comes around the side of the truck, no crutch in sight. He limps over to Tamara and leans forward to whisper something in her ear. She smiles up at him and nods her head.

My heart stutters to a stop and I feel like I can’t breathe. Wasn’t she the one saying just the other day that I shouldn’t give up on him? What was he doing here? Didn’t he have his own friends? Why couldn’t he go aim that smile at one of his groupies instead of sucking one of my best friends into the Evan vortex too?

“Claire?” Raven asks, holding out a hand to me. I take it, knowing he’s offering it purely as a matter of emotional support, but when I look back up, I catch the tail end of Evan’s glance. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s pissed at seeing Raven hold my hand. So weird.

The four of us walk into the restaurant in the most uncomfortable non-date couples date ever.

“Claire, you can’t bring outside drinks into a restaurant,” Raven stage-whispers to her.

“Oh, right.” The milkshake is half full, but she tosses it into the hostess’ trashcan like it’s no big deal. “It tasted a little off anyway.” And that explains why she just tossed it when normally, she would have a conniption about wasting chocolate.

We sit down to eat. The restaurant isn’t crowded, but there’s more people than I want to witness the debacle this is going to become. Suddenly Tamara groans and clutches her stomach. She leans over the table, her face hidden by curls.

“Oh, man. I don’t feel so hot,” she mumbles. We all express our concerns and I’m wondering if we should call it a night, but she promises us not to. She groans again.

Evan turns to her, and touches her arm. I want to slap his hand, which makes me such a jerk because my best friend is sick and in pain and I’m being petty and small.

“Let me take you home,” he says, preparing to get up out of the booth.

“Actually, I think it would be better if I took her,” Raven says. Evan and I turn to him, surprised.

“Tamara has IBS, I’m used to dealing with her when she’s like this,” Raven shrugs. Tamara groans again and shoves him on the shoulder.

“Not cool, dude, revealing all my secrets,” she moans. “Ugh. Raven, take me home.”

I start rising to my feet along with Raven, but Tamara pins me in place with a glare. “Don’t even think about it. You hardly ever get out, much less get dressed up. You are not wasting that pretty outfit on me. I’ll feel so guilty if I ruin everyone’s evening. Keep this guy entertained for me, please?” she pouts.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Tamara is trying to con me, but I figure there are too many moving parts to have pulled this off and she’s hardly a mastermind.

Evan looks torn about leaving or staying as well. He looks over at me, a question in his eyes and I shrug. If it will make Tamara feel better, I’m willing to take one for the team and it’s not like I can leave without looking like I’m a coward. Raven gives me a grim, apologetic smile and then escorts Tamara out with a hand at the small of her back, his face turning towards her in concern as they weave through the tables and out the door.

Evan slides back into the booth and suddenly I feel like there’s no air in this restaurant. Somehow Evan Carmichael and I were spending an evening together. Again.

“So…. You and Tamara, huh?” I ask.

“So, you and Raven, huh?” Evan asks, throwing the question back at me. I want to pry, but it’s obviously not welcome. We fall silent while we peruse the menus and put in our orders.

“Tamara told me the theme for the gala this year is A Night In Venice. Pretty cool. Your idea?” Evan asks as soon as the waitress leaves. My eyes stop studying the trickles water droplets are making on the outside of my glass and rise to meet his. Are we going to be friendly now? I suck in a breath because I had forgotten how intense his eyes can be.

“Yeah. All of the décor is going to be themed around Venice. You know, masked ball, water, excessive glitz, and ornate glam.”

He asks me a bunch of questions about the décor and I’m surprised by his interest, but more than happy to supply details of what I envision.

“The only thing not in the budget is the photo booth I was hoping to do. We’re going with a really generic arch instead,” I frown.

“Instead of what?”

“I wanted to make it look like the couple was standing in a gondola. Like, an actual gondola. But the prop department at school said they wouldn’t be able to make it considering all the other stuff they are doing.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you taking anyone?” he asks, but the words are low and slowly spoken like he’s asking but doesn’t really want to know the answer.

I shrug. “I’m the coordinator, so I have to be there regardless. Raven will be there.”

I’m about to ask him who he is taking when he cuts me off.

“It sounds like you should plan on pursuing event coordination as a career. Heck, if you’re this good at it in high school.”

I laugh and my cheeks grow warm at the compliment. “Yeah, I don’t know that I’m that good at it and I had a lot of help. But I do love it.”

It never occurred to me before that I could make a career out of this. I think back to the mountain of work I’ve done to make this event come together. While it was the highlight of my day to do it, I could see how someone would prefer to hire someone else to do it.

“Do you really think I could become an event coordinator?”

He bites his lip as he looks up at me, some hidden emotion seeking to get out through his eyes. “I think you could do anything you want, if you wanted to, Claire.”

Something clutches at my gut. A memory of me telling him that he didn’t fit in my plan, and the hurt and pain in his eyes when I said that to him. I feel like that me of only a few weeks ago was a stupid little girl that didn’t know what she wanted. I still don’t know what I want, but I have all these feelings and they confuse and scare me.

The waitress comes with our food and we start eating. It’s really good, but eating becomes so much more than just eating when Evan is sitting across from me. Every now and then we catch each other sneaking surreptitious glances at the other and then pretend that we are aimlessly looking around the restaurant. Or maybe that’s just me and it’s pure coincidence and he actually is aimlessly looking around the restaurant.

“How’s your recovery going?” I ask between bites. I know we aren’t friends, but we are stuck here together and need something talk about.

“Good. Thanks for asking.”

“I’m impressed by how quickly you got off those crutches.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right. I don’t think three weeks is quickly at all.”

“Well, your limp isn’t bad.”

“I might keep it just for fun. Everyone can call me Captain Stumpy and I’ll walk around saying, ‘Aaargh, mateys.”

I can’t help laughing.

“Can I plunder your treasure?” he leers at me and I have to cover my mouth so he doesn’t see down my throat from laughing.

“Gross!” I throw my napkin at him when I catch my breath. His eyes crinkle up on the sides and I realize how much I’ve been missing this. Evan put joy in my heart where no one else did. In some ways, I wish I had handled things differently, that I hadn’t been so focused on the plan that I was willing to ruin a perfectly good friendship. Maybe we couldn’t be anything more than friends, but I had handled it so badly.

His eyes are lit with a wistful, hungry look. I look away, unable to take the intensity, but I know I owe him an apology. I just don’t know that I’m brave enough to say it. Or brave enough to say it and ask for his friendship again. Can I take his rejection a second time?

He picks up his hand and hesitantly stretches it out across the table to where my hand lies on the table. He rests it there and I’m confused. Doesn’t he have a date to the gala? What about Tamara?

I remember all the reasons why we can’t be together. I knew them already. I just needed to be reminded. And that’s okay, because I don’t want anything more than friendship from him. This gives me the courage to ask.

“Evan,” I say, pulling my hand away and dropping it into my lap. A flash of disappointment crosses his features before he recovers. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for how I handled, um, for dumping that on you right after your surgery. That was a really, uh, messed up thing to do. And it was selfish and inconsiderate of me.”

I look away, not finished, but I’m just overwhelmed with how bad I feel. Tears well up in my eyes and I dab at them with my napkin. Thankfully, he can tell there is still more that I want to say and waits for me to finish.

“I knew you weren’t in a good place and I just, uh, panicked, I guess you would call it. My plan has always been so important to me and I thought…. Well, I guess I thought I was enjoying myself too much with you and there’s risk because of…“ I can feel my cheeks going red again, but I push on anyway, “possible attraction, would complicate things. So I thought I would uncomplicate it. But, um…” I raise my eyes to his. They watch me, accepting, not judging, patient and dark and intense. “I was serious about wanting to stay friends. I want you in my life and I guess I’m just crazy enough to hope that you want me too.” My voice cracks at the end and I look down in my lap with a half-chuckle—sob thing that has me really embarrassed.

I just threw it all on the line for friendship with him, not for a hook up with him. But what guy wants that? I’m asking for him to be my friend, but to stay firmly in the friend zone. I cringe, waiting for his rejection. When he doesn’t respond I raise my eyes to his. They still watch me, but I can’t see what he’s thinking.

“Thanks, Claire, I appreciate that,” he says. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m in a much better place now, because like you said, recovery is going so well.” He clears his throat. “I’d like it if we can be friends again too.”

Thank God! My heart rejoices and it comes out in smiles that turn into happy tears. I’ve never cried over someone just because they are willing to become a friend of mine. I know that makes me sound really pathetic. But when you want something really bad and then realize you can’t have it, it’s like the rug is pulled out from under you.

Somehow, during my friendship with Evan, I had come to depend on his happiness inducing remarks and comments, as frivolous and fake as they were. Maybe I didn’t have enough of that in my life, but when it was gone, it was like life had gone from color to black and white.

While my plan is important and I can’t change it, I need to find a way to keep him as a friend. I don’t want him as more (because he’s more or less a man-whore and a flirt), but I need him as a friend. At least I am going to be honest enough with myself to recognize that his friendship has become important to me. His friendship won’t ruin the plan.

My mind goes back to what Tamara said about adjusting my plan to make room for him. I can’t do that in the way she thinks I should, because there’s too much at risk, but it isn’t as if he hasn’t influenced my thoughts on life. If anything, I think back on his recommendation to get into event coordinating, it may help to settle some questions I had regarding specifics in how this plan will be carried out.

I wipe my eyes, feeling really silly for tearing up about this. He eyes me uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been weighing on me for a while. I was such a jerk to do that to you.”

He swallows and looks away. “Yeah, I don’t think I was very nice myself. I could have been more understanding about it.”

I sigh and give him a close-mouthed smile and he returns it with one of those side grins that makes my heart do somersaults. Stupid heart.

“Is it just me or do you think Tamara tried to set us up?” he asks me.

I laugh. “I definitely have my suspicions.”

“Well, I’m glad she did.” His eyes grow serious. I wish I could see into his head and know what he’s thinking. “I missed you.”

My cheeks warm again. “I missed you too.”

The waitress brings the check and before it gets awkward I pull out my wallet and slide the card onto the tray next to his. He asks me about my family and I ask him about his. I wouldn’t say the conversation is stilted, but it’s close. We have a long way to go before we recover the ease we used to have around each other.

We leave together and he walks me to my car. I’m worrying he will kiss me. But no, friends don’t kiss friends, right?

He stands there a second while I open the car door and the silence is palpable.

“Claire,” he says, right before I get in.

His arms came up around me and he squeezes. I automatically raise my arms to wrap around his middle. He feels so firm, strong, and warm, and wonderful. “It means a lot to me that you apologized. I don’t think you realize how much influence you can have on another person,” he says over my shoulder.

I squeeze him back, wishing I could never leave the comfort and security of the circle of his arms. Too soon, he pulls back and gives me a small smile before walking over toward his truck. He waits until I leave before he pulls out himself.

I’ll see him again tomorrow evening at the gala, but then I feel sick remembering that he’ll be bringing a date. I know it’s wrong of me to feel anything other than congratulatory toward him, but just for now, I wish he wasn’t taking anyone else and that my plan didn’t matter so much to me.