The Fill-In Boyfriend - Lindsey Osorio, Lindsey Osorio, Lindsey Osorio, Lindsey Osorio (each kindness read aloud .TXT) 📗

then realized how it sounded. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to meet you, I just thought I forgot your name.”

He pointed to his nametag, which said, Blake.

“Oh. Right. I just meant that I thought I should’ve known your name without having to look and . . . never mind.”

“Are you ready to order yet?”

I raised my eyebrows. Was I picking up that habit from Hayden?

“Oh yeah, you’re waiting for someone.” Why did he say that like he didn’t believe me? I hadn’t been waiting too long, had I? I glanced at my cell phone. I’d been here for fifteen minutes. Maybe Hayden wasn’t coming after all.

“I’ll just wait outside . . . is what I would’ve said a few days ago.”

A line of confusion formed between his brows.

“So . . .” My eyes went to his nametag again. “Blake. Are you a senior?”

“Yes.”

I nodded. “What’s your story?”

“What?”

“I mean, what do you like to do? Are you into sports?”

“I run track.”

“Cool.”

The door opened accompanied by a beeping noise and I turned toward it with a relieved breath.

Hayden greeted me with his easy smile. He had on glasses that I had almost forgotten he wore. He looked cute in them. How had I ever thought guys wearing glasses weren’t my type? I had a feeling anything Hayden wore at this point would become my type. “Hey.”

He didn’t even take in my outfit like I thought he would. He just walked to my side and peered in at the flavors along with me.

“What’s good?” he asked Blake.

“I don’t know. I’m not really an ice cream fan.”

“What?” Hayden asked, his voice incredulous. “How does a guy who doesn’t like ice cream end up working in an ice cream shop?”

“My parents own it.”

“That makes sense. How long have they owned it?”

“Twenty years.”

“So you grew up here?”

Blake pointed to the floor. “I basically grew up right here.”

“Raised by ice cream. I can understand why you might not like it.”

Blake laughed. “I loathe it.”

And that’s how you find out someone’s story, I thought. How did he do that so naturally?

Hayden smiled over at me. “What are you getting?”

“Um . . . I was looking at the Rocky Road but I’m not a huge fan of nuts.”

“Blake, Gia here likes the flavor of nuts but not the texture. Can you pick them all out for her?”

I elbowed him in the side. “Actually I don’t like the flavor either.”

“Then why would you even consider Rocky Road?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I like the other things in it so much that they almost outweigh the nuts.”

“Gia, you are weird.”

“Thank you. So what are you getting?”

“I was thinking about vanilla but then I thought, ‘That is so boring. Gia will think I’m the most boring person ever.’”

“It’s true.”

“So then I thought, ‘I bet Blake here will tell me what to order,’ but he was no help whatsoever. Thanks a lot, Blake.”

“No problem.”

“So now I’m thinking strawberry is my only option.” He nodded his head once to Blake. “This size.” He pointed to the middle cup then turned to me. “You’re still looking at the Rocky Road. Why are you still looking at the Rocky Road?”

“I don’t know. It looks so good and then I talk myself into thinking I’m going to like it this time and I never do.”

“I will save you from yourself, then. You cannot get the Rocky Road. Anything else . . . except vanilla because that’s so boring. Who would even think of getting that? I don’t even know why they stock it.”

I smiled.

“It’s actually the most popular ice cream flavor,” Blake said while adding a scoop of strawberry to a cup.

“Well, I feel validated now. I should’ve gotten the vanilla.”

My shoulders tightened with his word choice. Validation. The thing I was apparently unhealthily addicted to. Maybe I should ask Twitter what ice cream flavor I should eat. “I’ll have the Caramelo crunch,” I said before I started feeling too sorry for myself. “Same size.”

We each paid for our own ice cream and I led him out of the cold to a black metal table outside. He sat down then immediately stood back up, pulling something from his back pocket and dropping it to the table—a booklet that had been folded in half and was now slowly unfurling.

“You said you’d practice lines with me. I wasn’t kidding about needing to. I perform this tomorrow.”

“Oh, of course.” I grabbed the play, but my eyes lingered on him.

“What?” he said. “You’re looking at my hair like you want to whip out your little bottle of gel and fix it for the third time.”

I smiled. I hadn’t been thinking that at all. His hair was him and it was growing on me. “No, I like your hair and your glasses too, by the way. You look cute.”

He pushed them up on his nose. “My eyes were tired after all that driving yesterday.”

“Sorry.”

“No, please. I wanted to.”

I nodded and read the title of the play. “The Odd Couple. Is this that one where the one guy is a mess and the other is a neat freak?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And you are?”

“A mess.” Then he looked at the book in my hands. “Oh, you mean in the play? I’m the neat freak. Felix.”

“So wait, you’re a mess in real life?”

“Yes, can’t you tell?”

“You seem put together.”

“Oh, I’m tidy enough. I’m just a mess.”

“How so?”

“In more ways than we have time to discuss.” He pointed to the book. “Act two, scene one.”

“Well, if you’re a mess then I’m a natural disaster.”

“The cutest natural disaster I’ve ever seen.”

My cheeks went warm. “Okay, act two, scene one.”

Chapter 26

 We’d run through the scene twice and I’d only had to prompt him once. “You make a really good slightly crazy guy.”

He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“So who plays Oscar?”

“Just another guy in my class.”

“Is he as good as you?”

He met my eyes with a smile. “How am I supposed to answer that? If I say no, I sound conceited. If I say yes, you’ll think I’m nothing special.”

I stirred my spoon around my empty cup. “I wish I could go watch the scene.”

“You’d be bored.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Do you like to watch live theater?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hayden put his hand over his heart. “I’m shocked, Gia. I don’t know if we can be friends.”

Just as I was about to laugh, I heard a voice from behind me that stopped me cold.

“Gia?”

I closed my eyes for a beat then turned around to see Jules. “Hi.”

Jules smiled at Hayden. “Bradley, right?”

I cringed, took a deep breath, then said, “N—”

Hayden stood, and cut me off with, “Yes. And you are?”

Hayden knew who Jules was. It wasn’t apparent from the look of innocence on his face, though. I wanted to laugh but I managed to keep it in.

“Jules. We met at prom. . . . You probably don’t remember because you were busy with . . . things.” She looked between the two of us. “I didn’t realize you two were back together. Gia was just telling us about this other guy she was dating.”

“No, I’m not dating that other guy,” I said quickly, worried Hayden would think I was telling people we were dating. I pointed to Hayden. “And we’re not dating either. We’re just talking.” Was she trying to get me in trouble with “Bradley” by telling him I was dating someone else?

She looked me up and down. “Did you just come from the gym? You’re looking very . . . natural today.”

“You’re right,” Hayden said. “She’s a natural beauty.” Hayden had transitioned into his Bradley role well. He even reached down and took my hand in his, regardless of the fact that I’d just told Jules we weren’t dating. I shot him a look but didn’t take my hand back.

 

Jules zeroed in on the script sitting on the table. “Whose script? I thought Gia said you take business classes.”

 

“I take a drama class as well. It’s an outlet for me.”

“How fun.” She adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. “You wear glasses,” she said to him, almost like she was compiling a list.

“When I’m not wearing contacts, yes.”

“Gia never mentioned you wore glasses.”

I could feel my forehead wrinkle. “Why would I?”

“That just seems like something you would mention. Well, anyway, I’m picking up some things for my mom. You know how she is. Call me, Gia.”

We didn’t call each other. She moved up the street. Hayden stood there next to my chair, my hand still clutched in his, staring after her.

“I’m not a fan of that girl.”

I squeezed his hand then let it go. I would’ve hung on to it for as long as he’d let me but his eyes were gleaming in that way they did after he had put on an exceptionally good show. I didn’t want to just be part of a role he played anymore.

He sat back down, picked up his script, and folded it in half. “Does she remember everything you ever say?”

“Only so she can use it against me in the future.”

“Why do you hang out with her, again?”

“Because my other friends like her.”

He stared down the street, where she was no longer visible. “Did I make it worse?”

“I don’t think it can get any worse. It’s fine.” I stirred my spoon around my empty ice cream cup again then bit my lip. “I was going to tell her, though.”

“I know, but I think you should tell your other friends first.”

“You’re right. I need to tell my other friends first.” I’d been trying to deny that fact. I’d been trying to pretend like I didn’t need to tell them at all. That we’d all moved on. But it didn’t work that way. I’d been keeping a secret from them and that’s not what friends did. I needed to tell them the truth.

A couple of minutes later I saw Jules emerge from the coffee shop up the street holding a cup. “I’ll be right back.” Claire’s words echoed through my mind. Just try to be nice to her. She’s been through a lot. I had told Claire I would. I hadn’t been trying at all.

“Jules!”

She stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“I just . . .” I had no idea where to start with her. I thought back to the things she talked about when we were together with the group. She had an awful relationship with her mom. I had originally thought she was just complaining about her parents like we all did, but it was obviously worse than I realized. “Is everything okay? With your mom?”

“Did Claire tell you something?” She sounded angry.

“No. Last time we were all at lunch you mentioned you were fighting. Are you guys still fighting?”

She stared at the Styrofoam cup in her hand. “We’re always fighting.”

“About what?”

“She wants to move . . . again. I just want her to wait until I graduate, until I’m gone to college, but she’s running from man number fifty-one or seventy-five. I’ve lost count. She already has half the house packed.”

Wow. That sounded awful. I couldn’t imagine my mom picking up and moving every time there was trouble. I felt bad. “I’m sorry.” I remembered her saying something about how much her mom dated. Usually horrible men.

Her eyes snapped up to mine and hardened. “It’s no