Getting Lost with Boys Page 4

  Cordelia was confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sir Sandford Fleming. Head of the International Prime Meridian Conference of 1884. C’mon, Cordelia, an egghead like you should know simple facts like that.”

  Before she could come back with a witty response, he spoke again.

  “Turning onto your street. You ready?”

  “I’ve been ready for six hours,” she replied, and hung up. If she had talked any longer, she might have said something really insulting, and Cordelia had vowed around two o’clock that she was going to take the moral high road. She was not—repeat, was not—going to stoop to Jacob Stein’s level. Nothing he could say or do would get her to lose her cool. Cordelia Packer was going to be unflappable on this trip. Or else she might end up doing something that could get her shipped off to Alcatraz.

  Cordelia went to the living room window to watch for Jake’s arrival. Her parents had waited around for a couple of hours in the morning, but then her father had to get to a can’t-miss meeting at his ad agency. Her mom had an obligation too—she was prepping for this big Red Cross fund-raiser—so she’d told Cordelia to give Jake a hug hello for them. Cordelia had to fight the urge to gag.

  That urge returned the moment a beat-up-looking car with a bumper sticker that read, GIVE ME AMBIGUITY OR GIVE ME SOMETHING ELSE, pulled into the driveway. She shook her head in disbelief. Jake had driven an SUV when he was dating Molly, but apparently he had traded it in for a crappy tin can that desperately needed a house call from the Pimp My Ride crew. Cordelia pushed her face up against the glass and tried to get a better look. Was that duct tape on the passenger seat? And were all the tires spares? Not only was this trip going to be unbearable emotionally, but it also looked like it was going to be uncomfortable physically. Greyhound never sounded so good.

  Cordelia was startled when a loud, drawn-out horn sounded from outside. It shook the entire house almost as much as the 3.1-sized earthquake that hit last year.

  There is no way I’m moving, she thought as she looked over to her pile of bags. She knew she had to set some standards right at the beginning and Jake had to know immediately that she did not respond to car horns or whistles or whatever. She experienced a quick moment of satisfaction as he finally got out of the car. Then something else struck her—hard.

  Jacob Stein had miraculously transformed into a drool-inducing, yummy piece of eye candy. As he closed in on the house, Cordelia concentrated on every new, smoldering feature of Jake’s. He’d cut his long hair so that it was shorter and layered in a way that framed his face, which was looking pretty damn fine. Jake’s skin had this healthy glow that radiated like no guy’s skin had a right to. Cordelia could see his blue eyes shimmering through the afternoon haze. Jake must have had a growth spurt, too, because now he stood tall and lean like Paul did.

  Talk about pimp my ride! she thought. He’s like a totally different person.

  Then as soon as Cordelia opened the door, Jake opened his mouth and ruined everything.

  “Didn’t you hear me honking?” he barked.

  “Yes, I heard you,” she replied coolly. “In fact, all of San Diego heard you. Even the dead people.”

  Jake crossed his arms. “Well, then, why are you just standing here?”

  Cordelia was distracted by his biceps for a second and then snapped to attention. “I was waiting for you to come and help me with my bags.”

  Jake did a double take when he looked at her luggage. “You’re taking all that? I don’t know if there’s enough space in my trunk.”

  “I’m staying in Eureka all summer,” she reminded him. “Besides, I thought you had an SUV.”

  “That was my father’s,” he replied. He gestured grandly toward the heap of metal parked in the driveway. “This is all mine. An ’82 Dodge Charger. Just got it last month.”

  “Congratulations,” she said snidely. “It’s very…you.”

  Jake still beamed with pride. “I know, it’s great.”

  Cordelia rolled her eyes. Apparently Jake and Molly were both delusional.

  Despite what he’d said, Jake helped Cordelia with her stuff, and they managed to squeeze everything into the trunk.

  Cordelia opened the passenger door and looked inside. The entire contents of a garbage can appeared to be stuck to the bottom of the car floor. She sighed at the sight of it, but then she glanced at her watch and began to feel a sensation of panic rising inside her chest. This happened every time things weren’t going according to plan. In addition to the nervous stomach symptoms, Cordelia often experienced shortness of breath. She knew she had to calm down, but that was so hard to do when Jake Stein was within one hundred yards of her. She figured that when they got on the road, she’d be less stressed, so she decided to give Jake another nudge.

  “We’re getting a very late start and I want to be in San Luis Obispo by at least eight, so we should probably hurry up and head out now.” She had made an appointment for an evening massage at the hotel spa and didn’t want to miss it.

  He took out a rag from his back pocket and wiped the crushed bugs off the front windshield. “San Luis Obispo? Are you nuts?”

  “Didn’t you look at the itinerary I sent you?”

  “Yeah, sure, but San Luis Obispo, that’s like five hours from here.” He threw the rag in the backseat. Cordelia winced when it landed on her makeup bag. “This baby’s running okay now, but I’m not pushing her past fifty.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Jake got into the car and patted the dashboard. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  She realized just how hard trusting Jake was going to be the second he tried to start the car. It took Jake three attempts before the engine finally made a sputtering noise. Just when she thought that Jake should put a Do Not Resuscitate order on his car, she heard an ominous thump.

  Cordelia shuddered. “What was that?”

  “Probably the muffler falling out.”

  She shot him a glare.

  He grinned. “Just kidding.”

  That so-called sense of humor of his is so not funny, she thought as she sank back in her seat, trying to ignore whatever was poking her from beneath the ripped upholstery. (She really didn’t want to know.)

  As Jake began to make his way through town, Cordelia pulled out her Treo and brought up the itinerary. Studying it, she wondered if they could make up the lost time, or if she should add another day to the trip.

  “Where can we get to in a couple of hours?” Jake asked. “LA? Santa Barbara? I’m really beat from all those errands today.”

  Cordelia huffed. “Errands? You call going home for your drumsticks ‘errands’?”

  “They’re just as important as that little gadget of yours,” Jake said as he looked over her shoulder. “God, Cordy, did you really have to make lists of all the rest stops with handicap accessible bathrooms?”

  Cordelia pulled the Treo to her chest. “Keep your eyes on the road!”

  Jake let out a booming laugh, one that she found surprisingly infectious. She couldn’t help but smile.

  “I like the roomier stalls, okay?” she explained.

  “I’m sure you do,” he said.

  Then Jake suddenly made a sharp right hand turn, practically throwing Cordelia against the door.

  “This seat belt’s loose!” she yelled.

  He shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”

  The car screeched to a halt in front of a 7-Eleven.

  Cordelia tried to catch her breath. “Why are we stopping already?”

  “I need to get gas. And I’m hungry. Want anything?”

  She thought about her pledge to Paul that she would eat more vegetables. Would Lay’s potato chips and veggie dip qualify?

  Other thoughts of Paul began to drift into her mind. His bright smile, his perpetual good mood, his gentle nature…

  Suddenly, Jake snapped his fingers in front of her face.

  Cordelia couldn’t believe how rude he was being. “Don’t snap
at me, okay?”

  “Then tell me what you want.”

  “Um, a bag of Veggie Booty,” she said. “And a Snapple Diet Peach Iced Tea.”

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  And a jumbo-size bottle of Excedrin.

  “Yep, that’s it.”

  He shrugged and got out of the car.

  Cordelia wrung her hands and bounced her left leg up and down for the next twenty minutes. She couldn’t believe Jake was taking so long. What could he possibly be doing? The only thing she could think of was armed robbery, but even if that were true, he was definitely the slowest criminal in the history of convenience store knock-overs.

  After ten more minutes of being MIA, Jake appeared with a huge container of cheese puffs under one arm and a gallon of caffeine-free Dr Pepper under the other. Jake threw the items in the backseat and hopped in the car. “Sorry, they didn’t have the stuff you wanted. Hope that’s close enough.”

  Cordelia felt her face get hot. “It took you a half hour to buy two things?”

  He tried to start the car, but the engine just coughed. “Your fixation on time is really unhealthy, you know that?”

  “What took you so long?” she asked.

  “The craziest thing happened,” Jake replied as he jiggled the key in the ignition. “The cashier dude and I were in first grade together. Haven’t seen him since he transferred to this private school. Man, did he bulk up. He was this skinny beanpole a long time ago. I’m surprised I recognized him.”

  The car began to rattle once it started.

  “That’s incredible, Jake. I’ll alert the media,” Cordelia said wryly.

  “Are you going to be in a bad mood for the entire trip?” he asked. “Oh, I forgot. This is your regular mood.”

  Cordelia leaned back in her seat and gazed out the window sullenly. Paul would never have said something that mean. “Whatever. Just drive, okay?” The tiny wheels of the Charger spun around, and Jake peeled out into the street.

  Her heart started to thump as she peeked at the gas gauge, which was practically on empty. “Hey, I thought you needed to get gas.”

  Jake rolled up the window a bit and then it jammed. He didn’t try to force it any farther. “Did you see those prices? Over two bucks a gallon. Do me a favor and keep an eye out for places that sell unleaded fuel for under two.”

  Cordelia was twitching now. Jake wasn’t thinking this strategy through very well and it was making her anxious. “But what if we run out before then? That red needle is on the E.”

  He patted the dashboard. “She’ll hang in there. Don’t worry.”

  “And what if she doesn’t? What’s your Plan B?” she asked nervously.

  “Plan B is whatever the hell we come up with later,” he replied nonchalantly.

  This kind of logic really blew Cordelia’s mind, mostly because it wasn’t logic at all. It was completely nonsensical.

  Cordelia tried to close her eyes and think happy thoughts of Paul. If she ever needed to figure out how to meditate, now was the time. What were his instructions again? Find my center and then visualize something tranquil. But was that before or after I began the rhythmic breathing? She wanted to follow these steps to inner peace precisely, but the collective sound of multiple cars honking made her snap out of her attempt at meditation.

  Cordelia glanced over at Jake, who was staring straight ahead and frowning. “Rush hour,” he announced.

  They were bumper-to-bumper in a line of cars that looked like it stretched on forever. It was five o’clock, and they weren’t even out of San Diego. Consider the massage out of the question. In fact, the whole itinerary might be affected because of this snafu.

  “If we’d left when we were supposed to, we’d be in San Luis Obispo right now,” she stated.

  Jake did that “who cares” shoulder-shrug thing again. “Well, we didn’t, so we’re not.”

  He then proceeded to get out of his seat, lean over toward the back, and stick his butt (which just happened to be incredibly toned) in her face before plopping back down in front of the steering wheel. He put the cheese puffs container in between his legs and began to devour them.

  Cordelia couldn’t believe that she’d only been with Jake for a little less than an hour and she was already bargaining with God for some sort of transporter-beam miracle.

  Jake poked Cordelia in the shoulder and held out a handful of cheese puffs. “Want some?”

  She could see that some of the orange stuff was embedded beneath his fingernails and immediately lost her appetite. “I had a big lunch, so I’m fine.”

  With this shrug, his shoulders practically met his earlobes. “More for me.”

  Cordelia tried to hide the fact that her hands were trembling as she pulled her iPod out from her bag. Just as she was about to put her headphones on and tune everything out, Jake poked her again.

  “Could you stop with the poking, please?”

  “I poke because I care,” Jake retorted.

  He is so annoying!

  “Did you want something?” she asked.

  Jake grimaced. “Yeah, I got one of those adapters for my iPod. It runs through the tape deck. Want to plug yours in?”

  All right, this is borderline thoughtful of him, Cordelia thought. He’s trying to do something to make me comfortable, so I better take him up on it. It could be the last nice thing he does.

  “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

  She hooked up the adapter to her iPod and turned it on. The volume was very loud, which was a relief. It would drown out the rush-hour noise and prevent them from having any more hostile conversations. Cordelia began to sway to the music and smile a little bit. Then she turned to look at Jake, who had gone completely pale.

  “IS THAT THE BACKSTREET BOYS?” he screamed.

  Cordelia pretended not to hear him. “HEY, YOU! NO BACKSTREET BOYS!” he shouted again.

  She sighed and turned it off. ‘Incomplete’ happens to be a hit song, Jake. If that bothers you, take it up with Ryan Seacrest or something.”

  He groaned. “It’s a whole lotta commercial crap, that’s what it is.”

  “Just because it’s popular doesn’t make it bad,” she declared.

  “Sure it does.”

  Cordelia knew that she should pull out her headphones again and be the bigger person here. But she couldn’t let Jake get away with acting like he knew what quality music was while insinuating that the rest of the country were a bunch of idiots. “Then put on something you like. I can’t wait to hear what you consider music.”

  Jake reached over Cordelia, opened up the glove compartment, and pulled out his MP3 player. She shied away to give him some room, but his right elbow and upper arm brushed against her left breast a little. A millisecond later, her stomach fluttered and her skin was covered in goose bumps.

  Holy shit, what was that?

  She didn’t have time to analyze this strange reaction at all because a melancholy, almost whiny tune that she’d never heard before filled the car. It was one of those alt-rock songs that examines the shape of a poppy seed and then uses that as a metaphor for how people should look at life. Jake slapped his hand against his thigh (also well-toned) in time to the music, just as if he were playing drums in the band.

  “It’s Pedro the Lion. They’re from Seattle. I’m going to check them out there, maybe write an article and try to sell it to Rolling Stone.”

  She nodded politely. She had challenged him to this music duel so that she could shut him down, but now she was reconsidering it. Her body was doing some strange stuff and she didn’t want to make it worse.

  “What do you think of them?” he asked.

  She simply shrugged.

  Jake seemed to be determined to get some kind of response out of her. “You don’t like that kind of music, huh?”

  “It’s…listenable,” she replied. “The melody is nice.”

  He made a snorting sound. “These guys are geniuses. I bet if you just…unwound yourself a littl
e, you’d be able to appreciate them like I do.”

  Cordelia burst out laughing. “Gimme a break. I can unwind just fine to Nick Carter, thank you very much.”

  “Right, well, you’ll do whatever is safe, Cordy,” Jake said pompously.

  Cordelia was stunned. The nerve of this guy! He barely even knew her and here he was making comments about her music choices as if they represented who she was.

  “So you like Pedro the Lion and that means you’re laid-back and enlightened,” she retorted. “But because I like the Backstreet Boys, I’m an uptight pansy?”

  As soon as she said that, she heard another tune, a recognizable one this time. It turned out to be the ring tone of Jake’s cell.

  The conversation he had with whoever was on the other end wasn’t interesting—it was all “yeah,” “no,” “okay”—but she was intrigued by something else.

  “Your ring tone,” she said after he hung up. “That was OutKast, right? ‘Jazzy Belle’?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled. “That’s commercial crap, if you ask me.”

  Jake didn’t respond. He just shut off the music and stared ahead at the traffic, which was barely inching along. Cordelia then noticed something very unusual. She was really, really relaxed, almost peaceful even. Car horns were still blaring all around her, yet she had managed to find her center, like Paul had always said she would.

  She just thought it was rather odd that the only reason she’d stumbled upon it was because she’d shut Jacob Stein up.

  Chapter Four

  Cordelia and Jake managed to get out of the traffic jam in about two hours without beating each other into a bloody pulp. In fact, Cordelia had been so chill the entire time, it seemed to be making Jake nervous. He kept moaning whenever they passed a speed limit sign and he realized that the Charger wasn’t traveling above thirty miles per hour. She couldn’t help but giggle a little. It was rather enjoyable to see Jake sweating the small stuff, considering how “wound-up” he thought she was and how “loose” he claimed to be.

  But once they started whizzing past other cars, Cordelia’s nerves began to resurface. “Hey, I thought you weren’t going to push this thing past fifty?”