Fine. She wanted his attention? I was going to get his attention.
“You bitch!” I jumped to my feet and tossed my chair to the floor. Stunned students glanced at us. “I can’t believe you slept with him! At my party? At my house! IN MY BED!”
Vivian’s mouth dropped open as she looked between me and the suddenly very still Subway line. Sandwich artistry had officially stopped.
“Ian, what are you doing?” she hissed.
“Um, breaking up with you. What does it look like I’m doing?” I waved my hands around in the air. “You slept with my brother!” I had no such brother. “During my birthday party!” My birthday was in November. “What? You didn’t think I would find out?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Ian . . .” They started spilling onto her cheeks.
“Hey, man.” John walked over and put his hand on my arm.
“Don’t touch me!” I jerked away.
“Chill, yo, just chill.” He offered a calm smile. “It’s just that, Vivian here”—I knew he knew her name—“looks pretty scared. And whatever went down, it’s not cool to air it out in front of an audience.”
“You know what else isn’t cool?” I was seething. “Her.” I pointed a finger in Vivian’s direction. “Making me want her so desperately that I was even thinking of forgiving her for doing the unthinkable. She’s just . . .” I looked away. “She’s beautiful.”
John glanced at Vivian. I prayed she’d keep her mouth closed, because lipstick on her teeth would do the opposite of attract him. Then again, maybe he was into train wrecks. “Yeah, she really is,” he said.
I knew what he saw, the girl next door plus a little bit of red lipstick. Her face was still flushed, making her lips plump. Her eyes were wide—they looked huge—and the fresh haircut made her look like she’d just gotten done having sex, which is of course what had given me my brilliant idea.
It wasn’t just jealousy that got a guy going.
It was the simple fact that another dude had discovered a treasure that had been walking past him for years, and he’d never even given it a second glance.
All guys wanted to be first.
We wanted to be Christopher Columbus, Lewis and Clark—you get the picture.
He would always be second to me. Or so he thought. Meaning he would try twice as hard to erase the memory of her first.
Damn, I was brilliant.
“Look.” I ran my hands through my hair, trying to look stressed. “Viv, can we talk outside?”
She nodded, slowly standing to her feet. I was glad to see that she’d taken my advice and at least dressed her age. Nice skinny jeans and a black racerback tank top made her look older than twelve.
“Hey.” John grabbed Vivian’s arm and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, ducked her head, and walked out with me.
Once we were outside, I steered her toward the bench and sat.
“That was—”
“Shh.” I held my finger to my lips. “Give it a few minutes. He’s going to be looking out here, and if we talk right away, it will look like we’re fixing things. If we stay silent, we both look . . . hopeless. We need to look hopeless.”
Vivian nodded, even crossed her arms.
After five minutes, I turned to her. “Sorry for embarrassing you.”
She shrugged a shoulder, then smiled to herself. “He told me to meet him when he gets off work. Said he cheated on his girlfriend in high school and knows how bad it sucks to feel guilty for something that’s entirely your fault.”
“Hmm . . . interesting. That wasn’t in his folder, which basically means I’m more brilliant than I originally realized.”
She scooted closer to me.
“No, no.” I laughed and created more distance. “From here on out, we’re chilly, distant. Still semitogether but . . . only for appearances.”
“Right.” She folded her hands in her lap. “So do I meet him?”
“Sure. Bitch and complain, tell him it’s not true, because it isn’t, but say I refuse to believe you because I have trust issues. Tell him it’s most likely over, which really frustrates you, since I was the best sex you’ve ever had.”
“What?” She blushed bright red. “I can’t say that.”
“We did things backwards.” I shrugged. “Usually I make them jealous first, then they offer a shoulder to cry on when things go to hell. But we’re switching things up. Tell him you’re upset because you’re going to miss me in your bed. Say I was incredible. Say at night, you scream my name, only to wake up alone.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” She started rocking back and forth, her eyes darting between me and the grass, cheeks still flushed. “I can’t . . . say those things.”
“You can.” I checked my phone. “You will. And once that’s over with, you leave, tell him you’re exhausted, haven’t been sleeping well. He’ll want your number. Give it to him. He’ll text you good night. Don’t text him back until about three a.m. He’ll text you back, believe me. And when he does and asks why you were up, say you’re restless.”
I scrolled through John’s background. They had around an 80 percent chance for a good match. That is, if he stopped pissing around during class and actually finished his homework and turned it in on time. Vivian studied a ton.