Cycler by Lauren McLaughlin Read Free Book Online

“Expand.”
    “I mean, it’s fine if you can wait all your life for a guy who’s so obsessed he’ll hunt your snobby ass down and propose marriage, but—”
    “It’s not proactive, is it?” I say.
    Daria steals a potato chip from me. “Yeah, well, the whole
Guide
philosophy is a lesson in enforced passivity.”
    I glare at Ramie, because that was deeply not a Daria thought.
    “What?” Ramie says. “You have to admit she has a point. I mean, how’s Tommy supposed to give you what you want if he has no idea what that is? Bit of a problem, no?”
    “No,” I say. “The problem is one of focus.”
    Ramie and Daria exchange doubtful looks. Obviously, they have been bad-mouthing Project X behind my back, the dirty traitors.
    “Think about it,” I say. “I’m broadcasting my high status to everyone. But that’s like putting up a billboard and just hoping the right customer drives by. I should be aiming my high status directly at Tommy Knutson.”
    “Like a weapon,” Ramie says.
    “Exactly.”
    “But how?” Daria says.
    Ramie inhales sharply as if a lightbulb has just gone off. “By getting him alone,” she says.
    “Without violating
The Guide,
” I clarify.
    Daria sucks her teeth. “Deeply challenging.”
    “Deeply, deeply,” Ramie says. “But not impossible. Jill, what are your thoughts on skiing?”
    “Apathetic to hostile,” I say. “Rames, you know I don’t ski.”
    “Reconsider that,” she says.
    Thus was born Operation Swoon.

    Winterhead is practically in the Arctic. We have our own ski slope. It’s not the Alps or anything, just a smallish hill anchored by a wooden shack that rents skis and serves hot cocoa. We call it the Bump. But did I spend every single wintry day of my childhood going up and down this glorified snowdrift? No. I took cooking classes inside, where it was warm. Damn my lack of foresight.
    So guess who loves skiing with a passion that, in Ramie’s snooped lingo, “approaches religion”? You guessed it. Tommy Knutson. And guess where Tommy Knutson spends his weekends?
    The Bump.
    All day Saturday. All day Sunday. He even teaches beginner skiing to little kids on Wednesday afternoons. How adorable is that?
    For a smaller mind, this not-inconsiderable deviation in our respective interests might signal a stumbling block to prom-related coupling. Not for the talented trio of Jill McTeague, Ramie Boulieaux and Daria Benedetti.
    Here’s the plan.
    Daria will wait in my Nissan in the Bump parking lot, on the lookout for Tommy Knutson’s silver Prius, which, according to Ramie’s sources, always arrives between nine-thirty and eleven-thirty every Saturday and every Sunday. As soon as she spots it, she’ll call my cell phone and Ramie and I will take up first positions. Ramie will be stationed inside the cocoa shack. I’ll be outside by the ski racks. When Tommy comes out to put his skis on, I’ll toss him a big warm smile and wave. I know. I know. Not a
Guide
move at all. Be patient.
    Now, Tommy, who has never been on the receiving end of so brash and unfeminine a gesture from me, will be confused.
Is she waving at me?
he’ll wonder.
Wow! What a gorgeous smile.
Etc., etc. Then, being a gentleman, he’ll wave shyly in return.
    Here’s where it gets interesting. I’ll sigh exasperatedly and wave an even bigger wave, then crank up the smile into a full-blown laugh. (I’ve practiced this transition with Ramie and her cell phone camera. I’m not Julia Roberts or anything, but so long as I don’t squint, I can achieve something in the vicinity of Julia brilliance.) This is meant to confuse Tommy.
What’s she laughing at?
he’ll wonder.
Is my fly down? Am I emboogered?
Out of politeness, he’ll wave back and laugh nervously along with me.
    That’s when we turn the screws on him.
    Using my finely manicured right pointer finger, I’ll beckon him toward me while shaking my head as if he were a very naughty boy. (I’ve practiced this look extensively so as to avoid