Page 40 of Adorkable

“So what?” I muttered.

“So, have you had any good convos lately, met anyone interesting? Oh, don’t make me beg, Spitz. Were you into John or what? Was he totally lame? I told him not to be.”

Listening to her confirmed what I already knew and lessened my annoyance a good deal. A lot of planning had gone into that phone call. Hooker looked so excited, like she expected a gold star or a pat on the back. She seemed so proud of herself; it was almost a shame to burst her bubble.

“John was…the least lame guy you’ve tried to set me up with,” I admitted. “He was actually nice, but—”

“But what?” Hooker paused in her victory dance, arms dropping to her sides. “If he’s not lame, and if you think he’s ‘nice,’ what’s the problem?”

“Hooker, I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh yes, I forgot,” she said. “Becks, your good buddy turned boyfriend, how’s that working out?”

I didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

“It’s working out fine, thanks.”

“You know, John was the best I had,” Hooker commented. “He’s good looking, smart, nice voice. I thought you’d be a good match.”

“And I thank you for thinking of me, but—”

“No.” Hooker held up a hand. “I don’t think you understand, Spitz.” She looked me dead in the eye. “Iknowyou’re not really with Becks.”

I fought to keep my expression neutral, wasn’t sure I succeeded.

“If you were, you’d have told me sooner. Plus, you wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck around him.”

Shows what she knew.

Hooker raised an eyebrow. “So are you ready to fess up? Come clean, and I’ll let you off the hook. We won’t ever mention this again.”

Yeah, and go back to blind dates every other night? No deal,meine Freudin.

I met her gaze and replied steadily, “In the immortal words of Darth Vader, I find your lack of faith disturbing. There’s nothing to confess. I’m with Becks. End of story.”

She sighed. “Alright, but it’ll get worse before it gets better. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And it did get worse.

At lunch, Hooker launched her second attempt.

It came in the form of Buddy McCorkle, a sophomore with a Mighty Mouse tee and the languid look of a stoner. He also had a thing about hands.

“Wow, your hands are so strong. They’re like man hands,” were the first words he said to me. Hooker made sure I couldn’t escape, interrupting any time I tried to stop the conversation, blocking my exit with her body. Becks had a different lunch period, and she made the most of it. Ten minutes into lunch, Buddy had already measured, squeezed and even sniffed each of my fingers, remarking on the length and roundness of each.

But Buddy and his finger fetish was golden in comparison to Terrell Feinberg’s fascination with himself. The guy was gorgeous, silky brown hair, perfect teeth, rocking bod, and he knew it, too. Terrell didn’t stop talking about himself, never asked me a single question, for an entire twenty minutes. Hooker was on guard duty again, so I had to sit and endure Terrell’s thought-provoking argument over American versus European hair care products. His vote was for the latter. I knew his last name meant “fine city” in German, but, in any language, Terrell Feinberg should’ve translated: “big head.”

Both guys backed off when I said Becks and I were a couple, but I was starting to feel put out. Why hadn’t theyknownabout us already? When I took a good look at them, I got it: a college guy, a stoner, and a guy who couldn’t see past his own reflection.

Well played, Hooker. Well played.

In the halls, Becks walked me to each of my classes holding my hand—myhand!—but it didn’t take long to see Hooker, as predicted, wasn’t impressed. She watched us, tracked our movements like a bird of prey. Sometimes I’d see her head pop out of a classroom just to roll her eyes at me. Other times Becks and I would be passing, and she’d shake her head or sigh long and loud, making sure we heard.

I was waiting at Becks’s locker, trying to think what else I could do, when Hooker stepped out from behind the line of lockers a few doors down. I scowled as she shrugged, but her entire stance said, “I warned you, didn’t I?”

Becks sounded amused as he joined me. “What was that look about?”

“Nothing much,” I said. “Hooker just threw three guys at me in an effort to disprove our fake relationship.”

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