I laughed. “It’s not that exciting. He’s a nice enough guy, I guess. But he’s not Tyler Vincent.”
I reminded myself of that fact, touching Tyler’s picture, one of my favorites taped to the wall next to my bed. This was the man I lived for, would die for. He filled my thoughts, my dreams. I had pinned all my hopes on him.
Aimee stopped crunching and groaned. “You are way too hung up on Tyler Vincent. You meet this incredible guy and all you can say is he’s not Tyler Vincent?”
“Hey, let me have my fantasies, would you? What are you eating?”
“Cheetos. But I’m going to throw them up later. Hey, speaking of Tyler Vincent, don’t tickets go on sale this Saturday?”
“Oh my God, I forgot to tell you the best part!” I squealed, forgetting all about Aimee’s Cheetos comment for a moment. “Dale says he can get us front row seats!”
“What? You’re kidding me! How?”
“He says he knows somebody.”
“Oh my God, I don’t have to stand in line overnight again? I can’t believe it!”
I laughed. “You lucked out this year.”
“Sounds like you’re the one lucking out.”
“Maybe a little.” I twisted the phone cord around my finger, looking at a picture of Tyler Vincent on my wall, but thinking about Dale Diamond. “Hey, are you really eating Cheetos?”
“Don’t judge me.” Aimee crunched again. “I’m having a bad day.”
I knew how she felt, between Woodall and washing desks to coming home to the stepbeast in a beastly mood. The only bright spot in my day had been Dale Diamond.
“I don’t care if you’re eating them, just don’t throw them up.”
“But the calories!” she wailed.
“You were fine at lunch. What happened?”
Aimee sighed. “Carrie’s older brother picked us up. That’s who I rode home with.”
“So?”
“So he’s amazing, not to mention gorgeous, and I made an absolute fool of myself in front of him!” she cried.
“You did not. It couldn’t be that bad.”
“You weren’t there!” she choked. “He pulls up in a red Firebird—a red Firebird!—and the car is hot enough, but the guy? Oh my God, have you seen Carrie’s brother? Matt Green? Do you remember him?”
“Ummm…” I vaguely remembered him from high school, a nice-looking guy, tall, with short sandy hair, basketball player. He was a senior when we were freshman.
“So he pulls up and he starts talking to me, and I didn’t even know it was our ride, I just thought it was some cute guy who pulled up and was hitting on me, and Carrie and Wendy were just standing there grinning and not saying anything.”
“So he liked you?”
“I thought he did.” Aimee morosely crunched more Cheetos. “But that was before the bee.”
“The bee?” Uh-oh. Aimee was deathly afraid of bees—like I was afraid of spiders. She wasn’t even allergic, she was just terrified of them and freaked out every time she saw one.
“It was huge! And I screamed like an idiot and started running around and swatting at it but it was chasing me and I ended up tripping over Carrie’s bag. Now I’ve got a hole in the knee of my new Jordache jeans and I can never talk to Carrie’s brother ever again.”
I was trying hard not to laugh at the image. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as all that.”
“Sara! He teased me the whole way home!” Her voice dropped an octave as she imitated him. “‘You know, you should BEE more careful’ and ‘I do BEElieve this is your house, Aimee.’”