The Perfect Guy (Books We Love Young Adult Romance) Read online

  "You know, Pres." Bill tapped his fork on the table. "I think you put a bit too much ginger root in the marinade for the pork roast."

  "Yes, sir." Pres showed no emotion.

  I almost choked on my anger. I was shocked that Bill would do anything except praise the homecoming meal that Pres had so lovingly prepared. I leapt to his defense. "It’s all delicious. I loved every bite."

  "Thanks," Pres murmured.

  Bill raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Mom put her hand over his and said, "I haven’t heard anything about what you two did over vacation. What have you been up to, Pres?"

  "I’ve had baseball practice," Pres said.

  "And homework?" said Bill. "Did you finish all your homework? What about that term paper?"

  "All finished." Pres pushed the rice around his plate with his fork.

  "What about you, Rebecca?" Bill asked. "Have you done all your homework?"

  I nodded as I swallowed a bite of asparagus. It seemed to me that Bill was not merely expressing interest. It was as if he was checking up on us. That surprised me. Pres had always been a straight-A student, and I usually managed a B or B+ average, except for an occasional C in French.

  "Did you do anything else over vacation?" Bill asked.

  I squirmed in my chair. If Mom had asked me the same question, I would have assumed she just wanted to know if I’d done anything special. But there was something about the tone of Bill’s voice that made me feel I’d better tell him about something constructive that I’d done. "Well … I finished unpacking. And—and I did a little writing."

  "Writing?" A look of interest flickered in Bill’s eyes. "What do you write? Poetry?"

  "No." It felt strange to be telling Pres and Bill about my writing, after keeping it pretty much to myself for so long. But they were family. "I, uh, have tried writing plays."

  "Well, that’s great. Writing is an excellent hobby. It’s sort of like Pres’s interest in acting and the Drama Club."

  I didn’t mention that I’d sold a play. After all, it was only an eight-page script with about a ten-minute playing time for a small magazine for kids in the lower grades. Though I was thrilled to sell any of my work, it didn’t seem like much to brag about.

  Pres’s cheeks turned red. He’d been in all the school plays since he’d been a freshman, but I knew he planned on going to college and becoming a lawyer, like his mother had been.

  "What about college, Rebecca?" Bill drummed his fingers on the table.

  "Oh, I plan to go to college," I assured him. Fortunately, I really did plan on it. I was realistic enough to see that it was highly unlikely that I’d be able to support myself with playwriting. Besides, I wanted what all the teachers always referred to as "a solid education."

  Later that night as I brushed my teeth I thought about Bill. I guess I’d expected him to be a father to me exactly as Daddy had been. But I wasn’t six years old any more, and I couldn’t expect to be treated the same way as I was then.

  What did I expect, after all? That Bill would pick me up and swing me around the way Daddy used to? Probably not, but hopefully Bill would loosen up as soon as we got used to each other.

  For the first time since moving in I didn’t bother to sit on the toilet lid to muffle the sound when I flushed. I made up my mind that I was going to have to get used to living normally with Pres and Bill. I let my natural optimism rise. Things would work out perfectly. It would just take time.

  Yes. That was all. A little more time ....

  Chapter Four

  The next morning I heard a persistent ringing. Bill and Mom had both left for work half an hour earlier. Pres was busy, so I ran to open the front door.

  Josh was leaning against the doorframe, his finger jammed against the doorbell. "Hi. Ready for the long uphill climb to the salt mines?"

  I saw Celeste behind him.

  "Don’t you think you’re exaggerating? The half-mile walk to school probably has less than a ten-degree incline."

  "Here," Pres said, suddenly handing me a small brown bag. "Let’s get going. Josh may not like getting to school any earlier than necessary, but it wouldn’t do for the kids of the English Department chairman to be late."

  "Thanks," I said as I took the bag. "What is it?"

  "Lunch. Now you won’t have to suffer with cafeteria food."

  "Thanks again," I said. Why couldn't I think of something more original to say? Something to show how much I loved that he made lunch for me.

  "Hey!" Josh protested. "What about me? You didn’t fix me a lunch!"

  "Me either." Celeste pouted.

  "Sorry," Pres said. "This service is provided for family only."

  He put his arm around me. I caught Celeste’s eye and smiled.

  "Hmmm," said Celeste. "Would you consider adoption, Pres?"

  "Great idea. Adopt us both," Josh exclaimed. "Then I’d have two sisters to wait on me hand and foot and fulfill my every need."

  "You wish," Celeste said.

  "Besides," Pres said, "you’d have to share them with me."

  "I’m a generous person." Josh removed Pres’s arm from my shoulder and replaced it with his. "I’d let you have Celeste."

  "It would never work," I said, dancing away from Josh’s grasp. "I’m not used to taking orders."

  "I’m not used to giving them," Pres confessed.

  Celeste grinned. "Now that I could live with."

  ****

  At school I floated into my first class still clutching my lunch bag. I couldn’t bear to just stick it in my locker. At lunch I found Celeste waiting for me, a look of anticipation on her face.

  "Well," she said. "What exotic goodies have you got for lunch? I’m dying of curiosity."

  I opened the bag and pulled out the contents. An egg salad sandwich, an orange, and three oatmeal cookies.

  "Not terribly exciting," Celeste pointed out.

  "It’s the thought that counts," I said. "It shows he was thinking of me."

  "It shows that he’s thinking of you as a sister." Celeste ripped the wrapper off her straw. "You heard him. He said the lunch service was for family only. I don’t think it means he likes you."

  "Gee, thanks."

  "I didn’t mean it that way," Celeste said. "I don’t mean he dislikes you, just that he doesn’t like you in a special way, as a girlfriend. Look, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and then get hurt, that’s all."

  I sighed. "It’s nice of you to worry about me, but don't. I may look on the bright side, but I’m not blind."

  "Not totally."

  "Please! Don’t worry." I contentedly chewed my egg salad sandwich. If only Pres had first lunch, so I could tell him how great it was right away.

  After school I met Celeste by her locker.

  "I can’t walk home with you this afternoon," Celeste said as she shoved one book into her locker and pulled out two others. "I have to stay after to finish an experiment in chemistry."

  "That’s okay. I’ve got a ton of studying to do anyway. See you in the morning."

  At dinner that evening I was pleased when Mom slid into her chair and said, "It’s so nice to come home and not have to fix dinner."

  I realized the sacrifice on her part, since she loved to cook. But seeing Pres look flustered but proud, I could understand why she did it.

  "By the way," Pres said, still blushing, "you should have seen the homer Josh hit in practice today. It flew way over the centerfield fence. Celeste cheered so loud I thought she’d break the sound barrier."

  "Celeste was there?" I put down my fork.

  "She stopped by near the end of practice and waited to walk home with Josh and me."

  "Is Josh still dreaming of playing major league baseball?" Bill asked.

  "Yes," Pres said. "But he’s being practical about it. He’ll go to college first."

  I thought I detected a note of sarcasm when Pres said "practical."

  "Glad to hear that." Bill cleared his th
roat. "I’ve been thinking about the school play this year."

  I leaned forward to listen. If I could work on the school play with Pres, I’d have it made.

  "We’ve always done Broadway shows, but I thought maybe it was time to try something new. Any ideas?"

  "There’s always Shakespeare," Pres said.

  "Yes." Bill nodded. "But with a professional Shakespeare company nearby, the competition might be too much. What about you, Rebecca, any thoughts on the subject?"

  "Well …." I wanted to come up with a good idea to impress Bill. I sat quietly, hoping something would spark my imagination. Then it hit me. "We could do an original play celebrating Sandy Cove’s 350th Celebration."

  "An original play?" Bill raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes." I was warming up to my own idea. "Sandy Cove must be filled with all kinds of fascinating history, enough to base a play on."

  "Hmm." Bill paused for a moment. "I don’t know. In addition to directing, I’d have to research the town’s history and write a script." He shook his had. "I wouldn’t have time for all that."

  "I could do it." I blurted out. "I could go to the Town Hall tomorrow after school and dig up some information." I took a deep breath. "I—I could write a script too."

  "Well …." Bill sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "Write something up. If it looks as though you can handle it, Sandy Cove High will produce an original play to celebrate."

  I wanted to shout for joy. "I’ll have an outline in your hands as soon as possible."

  After dinner, helping Pres in the kitchen, I danced around the room. I was so charged up about the possibility of writing the play. The fact that I got to brush hands with Pres as we loaded the dishwasher only added to my exhilaration.

  "I hope you create a good character for me to play," Pres said as he scraped a dish. "You know, I like acting so much I could practically make it a career."

  He smiled at me and I almost dropped a spoon.

  I had to come up with a good outline. In addition to it being an unbelievable opportunity to have my own play produced, however far off Broadway, it was a situation that would bring me closer to both Bill and Pres.

  "I’ll come up with a brave, noble settler, a part you can sink your teeth into," I said, trying to sound half-joking, though not really joking at all.

  "That’s my image." Pres rolled his eyes. "Brave and noble."

  "It’ll be fun working with you and Bill," I said.

  "Hmm," Pres said. "Working with Dad might not be all fun. He’s a perfectionist. Don’t be disappointed if you clash occasionally."

  "Oh, I don’t have any trouble getting along with people."

  Pres studied me for a moment. "Maybe the people you’ve had the most contact with just haven’t been that difficult to get along with."

  ***

  The next morning on the way to school I told Celeste and Josh about my plans for the play.

  "Sounds great." Celeste said. "Do you think you could come up with a good part for me?" She grinned. "Maybe with an inside track I could land a starring role instead of my usual bit part."

  "I’ll see what I can do."

  "Hey," said Josh. "I wouldn’t mind getting involved in the play too."

  "You?" I figured Josh was kidding. "I thought the only extracurricular activities you were interested in were sports."

  "I’m getting adventurous in my old age," Josh said. "I think I’d like to try something else before I graduate."

  "I believe he’s serious." Pres nudged me in the ribs.

  Was that nudge more than a friendly gesture? I know I was still feeling sparks of electricity from the touch of Pres's elbow.

  "How would you like to help, Josh?" I asked.

  "I can’t picture myself on stage. Maybe I could help behind the scenes."

  "How about props?" I suggested.

  "I was thinking of helping with research," Josh said as we reached the front walk of the school. "I really like U.S. History. Uh, Sandy Cove is considered part of the U.S., isn’t it?"

  "Last I heard," Pres said.

  "Research? Well, I’m surprised. But I’m not about to turn down any offers of help," I said. "I’m going to the Town Hall this afternoon, if you want to come."

  "I’ve got baseball practice after school all week," said Josh. "How about Saturday? We could go to the library."

  "Good idea."

  "Great." Josh guided me through the front door of the school with his hand on my back. "It’s a date. Well, I have to go. Got to see Coach." He waved as he dashed down the hall toward the gym.

  Pres and Celeste went to their lockers and I stopped off in the restroom. Alicia Johnson was at the first sink, combing her long black hair, which hung in graceful curves down her back.

  "Hi, Rebecca." Alicia’s big gray eyes glowed. "I was in the hall this morning. Did I hear right? Do you really have a date with Josh Sullivan?"

  "Date? Who? Josh and me? Oh!" I laughed. "The only ‘date’ we have is to do some research at the library."

  "That’s disappointing," Alicia said, looking not the least bit disappointed. "But then, you’re saving your heart for Mr. Perfect, aren’t you? That certainly isn’t Josh."

  "What do you mean by that?" I bristled. No one was going to insult Josh to me.

  Alicia eyes opened wide. "I didn’t mean there was anything wrong with Josh. I’ve put my foot in my mouth, as usual. It’s just that, well Josh is real nice, and good-looking, but—I’m not saying this right. I just meant he didn’t strike me as your kind of guy. I’m sorry if it came out all wrong."

  I calmed down. "That’s okay, Alicia. I think I know what you mean. Josh is like a brother to me." I felt myself turning red and hot. "He’s not my dream guy. For one thing, he doesn’t take things as seriously as I do. But he’s a really nice person."

  "I know," Alicia said, her black hair now as shiny as glass. "Well, I’ve got to go. Sorry if I got things all mixed up."

  "Sure." I gave my hair a quick brush and hurried off to homeroom.

  I shook my head as I slid into my seat. So Alicia thought I was going out with Josh. Well, one day, soon I hoped, she would see who really had my heart.

  I doodled on the inside back cover of my notebook. I drew a heart, and in tiny letters only I could read I wrote R.C. + P.N.

  Chapter Five

  After school I rushed to the Town Hall, where I headed straight for the Historical Society room and buried myself in books and newspaper clippings of history about Sandy Cove that would never be found on the internet. Lost in the stories of earlier centuries, I didn’t even realize what time it was until Mrs. Gluck, on duty that day, cleared her throat and announced that it was after five o’clock.

  "Oh, I’m sorry to keep you here so long, Mrs. Gluck. I just got caught up in Sandy Cove’s history."

  "That’s all right." Mrs. Gluck patted my arm. "I stay this late anyway." She turned and pulled a blue booklet off a shelf. "Here. You might be interested in this."

  I scanned the cover. Under a drawing of a sailboat was the title: 350 Years—Sandy Cove.

  "It’s a compilation of local history, along with some personal remembrances by various residents," Mrs. Gluck said. "Thanks to the generosity of the advertisers, they’re free if you’d like one."

  "Oh, yes. Thanks." I added the booklet to my pile of books.

  "You’re most welcome," said Mrs. Gluck. "Come again any time."

  "I definitely will." I put on my jacket. "Thanks again."

  Since it was too late to catch a ride with Mom, I walked home, so excited I barely noted the haze of green gracing the trees. There was so much to discover about Sandy Cove’s past that it was difficult to pay attention to the present. The early settlers, the Revolutionary War, the first inn, the first school, the old sailing days, there was so much to research.

  I whizzed around the corner so wrapped up in local history that I didn’t see the tall dark figure until I smacked into him. Books flew into the air and sailed in six directions.


  "I’m sorry," I exclaimed, as I scooped to pick up my books, trying to sort mine out from my victim’s.

  "The pleasure was all mine."

  I looked up. It was Josh. He knelt beside me and we sorted through our piles and traded until we each had our own books. Then Josh helped me up.

  "Are you all right?" He squeezed my arm in several places. "No broken bones, I hope."

  "It would be my fault if there were," I said. "Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I was thinking about all the information I dug up about Sandy Cove."

  "Wait a minute," Josh scolded, shaking a finger at me. "Don’t forget that I’m supposed to help you with that research this Saturday."

  "I haven’t forgotten." I grabbed Josh’s finger in mid shake. "Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty for us to do sorting it all out."

  "Good." Josh took my hand in his. "Just to make sure you get there in one piece, I’ll walk you home."

  "My protector."

  "Don’t you forget it."

  I smiled and shook my head. "Can you believe there’s so much written about our town’s history? For starters, look at this pamphlet Mrs. Gluck gave me."

  "Hey, this is really interesting," Josh said, absorbed in the booklet.

  "I’m glad you think so." I was a bit surprised at Josh’s reaction.

  When we got to my house, Josh opened the gate on the picket fence. "I’ll walk you to the front door."

  "That’s what I call service," I said. When we reached the steps I gave Josh a hug. "Thanks for seeing that I got home in one piece."

  "My pleasure," Josh said. "See you in the morning."

  "Bye." I went in, dropped my books on the hall table, and hurried to the kitchen to see if I could help Pres with dinner. From the dining room I heard Mom’s voice.

  "Anything I can do to help, Pres?" she asked cheerfully.

  "No," Pres said, louder than necessary. Then, in a softer voice, "No, thank you."

  "Okay," Mom said. "Just let me know if you do need help."

  "I will."

  I tiptoed back to the hall and was hanging up my jacket, when I heard Mom go upstairs. I wanted to offer to help Pres, but if he accepted my offer after rebuffing Mom’s, I’d know he was avoiding Mom, and I didn’t really want to know that. So I went to my room to study until dinner.