“Sounds good.”
Jessica threw an arm around my shoulders. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bianca!”
“You too, Jessica.” I smiled in spite of myself. I couldn’t help it. Jessica had one of those contagious smiles that made it really hard to be negative when she was so freaking bubbly.
We reached the classroom door and found our teacher waiting for us inside. “Bianca,” she said as I walked in. “I just got an e-mail from one of the secretaries at the front desk. She needs some students to come help distribute flowers people have sent. You’re caught up on all your work, so would you mind doing that for me?”
“Um… okay.”
“Oh, how fun!” Jessica released me from her one-armed hug. “You get to deliver flowers. It’s almost like you’re playing Cupid.”
Right. How fun.
“See you later,” I said to Jessica as I turned and walked right back out of the room. I pushed through the hordes of students, fighting against the current to make my way to the front desk. Couples seemed to be everywhere, displaying their affection-holding hands, batting eyes, exchanging gifts, making out-for the entire school to witness. “Disgusting,” I muttered.
I was about halfway to the front desk when a strong hand gripped my elbow. “Hello, Duffy.”
“What do you want?”
Wesley was grinning at me when I spun around to face him. “I just wanted to let you know that if you plan on dropping by tonight, I might be a little busy. With it being the day of love, I have a pretty full schedule.”
Now he sounded like a professional man-whore.
“But if you’re desperate to see me, I should be free around eleven o’clock.”
“I think I can survive one night without you, Wesley,” I said. “In fact, I can survive an eternity.”
“Sure you can.” He released my arm and winked. “I’ll see you tonight, Duffy.” Then he was gone, swept away by the tidal wave of students on the verge of being late for class.
“Prick,” I grumbled. “God, I hate him.”
A few minutes later, I stood at the front desk where the secretary, who looked like a nervous wreck, smiled at me with relief. “Did Mrs. Romali send you? This way, this way. The table is over here.” She led me around the corner and gestured to a foldable, square table with a vomit-green surface. “There it is. Have fun!”
“Not likely.”
The table was covered-I mean covered-with bouquets, vases, heart-shaped boxes, and Hallmark cards. At least fifty bundles of red and pink waited to be handed out, and I got the privilege of being the bringer of such joy.
I was debating where to start when I heard footsteps behind me. Assuming the secretary had returned, I asked, without turning around, “Do you have a list of the classes these kids are in so I know where to take the gifts?”
“Yes, I do.”
That didn’t sound like the secretary.
I whirled around, shocked by the voice that had replied. It was one I knew very well, despite the fact that it had never-not once-spoken directly to me.
Toby Tucker smiled. “Hi.”
“Oh. I thought you were someone else.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “So you were wangled into this, too, huh?”
“Um, yeah.” I was relieved to find my vocal chords weren’t in a state of paralysis.
As always, Toby was wearing a slightly-too-formal-for-school blazer, and his blond hair fell around his face in that old-fashioned bowl cut. Adorable. Unique. Intelligent. He was the embodiment of all the things I wanted in a guy. If I believed in stupid things like fate, I might have thought it was destiny that we were working together on Valentine’s Day.
“Here are the class rosters,” he said, handing me a green binder. “We should probably get started; this could take a while.” His eyes scanned the field of gifts from behind his oval glasses. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much pink in one place.”
“I have. My best friend’s bedroom.”
Toby chuckled and picked up a bouquet of pink and white roses. He eyed the tag and said, “The quickest way to get this done might be to separate these into piles based on which class each student is in. It will make delivery much more efficient.”
“Right,” I said. “Organize by class. Okay.”
I was quite aware of how moronic I sounded with my less-than-eloquent replies, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I mean, just because my voice actually worked didn’t necessarily mean I could use it well in his presence. I’d been crushing on Toby for three years, so to say he made me nervous would be a massive understatement.
Lucky for me, Toby didn’t seem to notice. As we sorted the various gifts into groups, he even offered up some polite small talk. Slowly, I found myself easing into a semi-comfortable chat with Toby Tucker. A Valentine’s Day miracle! Well, miracle was too strong a word-a miracle would have been him sweeping me into his arms and laying one on me right there. So maybe this was more like a Valentine’s Day benefit. Either way, my awkward, idiotic dialogue began to ebb away. Thank God.
“Wow, there’s a lot here for Vikki McPhee,” he said, placing a box of candy on top of a steadily growing pile. “Does she have six boyfriends?”
“I only know about three,” I said. “But she doesn’t tell me everything.”
Toby shook his head. “Jeez.” He picked up a card and began to check the label. “So what about you? Any Valentine’s Day plans?”
“Nope.”
He put the card in one of the piles. “Not even a date with the boyfriend?”
“That would require me having a boyfriend,” I said. “Which I don’t.” Not wanting him to start feeling sorry for me, I added, “But even if I did, I wouldn’t be doing anything special. Valentine’s Day is a stupid, pathetic excuse for a holiday.”
“You really think so?” he asked.
“Of course. I mean, there is a reason its initials are VD. I bet you more people contract syphilis on Valentine’s Day than on any other day of the year. What a cause for celebration.”
We laughed together, and for a minute it felt kind of natural.
“And you?” I asked. “Do you have plans with your girlfriend?”
“Well, we did,” he said and sighed. “But we broke up on Saturday, so those plans are now dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
But I wasn’t. Inside, I felt kind of ecstatic and overjoyed. God, I was such a freaking bitch.
“Me, too.” There was a momentary pause on the verge of being awkward, and then he said, “I think we have all of these sorted. Are you ready to start delivering?”
“I’m ready, but not very willing.” I pointed to a large vase of assorted flowers. “Look at this. I would wager money that some girl sent this to herself so that she’d look good in front of her friends. How sad is that?”
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t do it?” Toby asked, a tiny smirk spreading across his boyish face.
“Never,” I said flatly. “Who cares what others think of me? So what if I don’t get a present on Valentine’s Day? It’s just vanity. Who do I need to impress?”
“I don’t know. I think Valentine’s Day is more about feeling special,” he said, plucking a flower from the large vase. “I think every girl deserves to feel special once in a while. Even you, Bianca.” He reached over and tucked the flower’s stem behind my ear.
I tried to convince myself that this was completely cheesy and ridiculous. That if any other guy-Wesley for example-had tried a line like that, I might have slapped him or just laughed in his face. But I felt my face turn pink as his fingers brushed past my cheek. This wasn’t any other guy, after all. It was Toby Tucker. Perfect, amazing, dreamy Toby Tucker.