Part of me wanted to be a girl and continue moping.  After all, it was working so well!  I wanted to go home and mourn the death of my evening.  I wanted to call Hannah the next day and whine about the agony in which I’d made a pretty little nest during the movie.  I wanted to spend the next evening sharing a gallon of ice cream with my best friend while we watched sappy movies and swapped stories about the stupid boys in our lives.

Unfortunately for the side of me that still wanted to finish that ridiculous edition of Teen People, my wonderful double date shot my to-do list to the fiery depths of hell.  Or maybe farther. 

And that is why I say with fervent conviction:  DAMN those Backstreet Boys!  Because one wasn’t enough, right?  It wasn’t enough that I’d spent five years of my life crushing on one of them.  Oh, no.  I had to go and have a great time with another one.  I had to actually enjoy his company.  Beyond that, I had to give him an actual kiss goodnight.  Not a little peck on the cheek to tease him, but an actual kiss.  Tongues, fireworks, and everything.

Oh, yeah.  I was that screwed.  I was screwed enough that I was finally starting to understand why so many prepubescent girls are positively enthralled with these guys.  Hell, two down, three to go, right?  Bring on the men!

And that was the problem, really.  They weren’t the Backstreet Boys anymore.  They were the Backstreet Men, and those Backstreet Men were really starting to destroy my sense of resolve.

Don’t get me wrong.  I mean, the date wasn’t perfect by any means.  I’d be lying if I said that I delighted in watching my crush flirt with someone else.  I’d be lying if I said that her every move didn’t piss me off.  I’d be lying if I said that Nick and that girl weren’t positively nauseating, that my stomach didn’t threaten to empty itself every time he complimented her or grabbed her hand or smiled that freaking obnoxious Carter smile at her.  That thing should be registered as a lethal weapon.  He wasn’t even smiling at me, and he could turn me into a puddle. 

His buddy is just as bad, though.  And I’d be really lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy it.

Throughout the night, AJ was the perfect gentleman.  He opened my car door, he pulled out my chair at dinner, he let me order first, he paid for my movie ticket, he shared his popcorn, and—to top it all off—he walked me to the door and asked for my number.  He said he’d had a wonderful time despite his doubts about the date and would I like to do it again?

Good fucking question.

I’d been pondering the question all morning.  Wondering what to do, how to handle the situation, and whether or not AJ would notice my enormous crush on Nick if we did in fact make a second date.  Not that it was noticeable, of course.  I was past the stare and admire phase.

Well, I thought I was.  That tended to change whenever said tall blonde entered a room.

Shortly after that thought, I realized I was officially on the horns of dilemma.  And so I did what any other desperate girl would do after a wonderful date with her crush’s best friend.  I called Hannah.

The phone barely rang once before she answered.  “It’s about damn time you called me!  I was trying to be patient, but you’d better have details for me.”

I laughed.  “It’s nice to hear from you too, chick.”

“No small talk!  I demand to know how the monstrous double-date ended.”

I sighed heavily.  “Surprisingly enough?  Not that bad.  AJ was a really, really nice guy.”

“And you were okay with Nick and what’s-her-name getting it on in your presence?”

I wrinkled my nose at the thought.  “That’s why the date went from ‘great’ to ‘not that bad’.”

I could tell by the tone in Hannah’s voice that she was mildly surprised.  “AJ was that good, huh?”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“He’s Nick’s best friend.”

“Yeah, well…”

“So you’re saying that the crush on Nick has been overridden by your attraction to AJ?”

I wanted to.  I really wanted to.  But that would be a lie.  “Nope.  It’s not for lack of trying, either.  I tried to ignore Nick with freaking Stephanie.  I did.  AJ was a great distraction.  He’s a much nicer guy than I would have suspected.  It’s just…watching Nick kiss that private-school, hoity-toity, high-class bitch was disturbing.”

“Did you at least make an effort to be nice to her?”

“Of course I did!  For God’s sake, Hannah, give me a little credit here.  I mean, I tried to talk to the girl.  She’s just…well…”

“Dumb as a doornail?”

I sighed heavily.  “Without mincing words?  Yeah.  Light’s on, but nobody’s home.  She’s an exact replica of every girl Nick’s ever dated.”

Hannah sighed heavily.  “Well, at least now you know why he’s not attracted to you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.  You’re not an airhead.”

“You know, a few days ago, I would’ve become an airhead to be with him.”  Pathetic, isn’t it?  I was that far gone.  I was so crushed out that I’d abandon my expensive, well-earned college brain cells for a date with the hottest Backstreet Boy.

“And now?”

“Now,” I answered hesitantly, “I think about the night I had with AJ, and I’m not so sure I want to become an airhead anymore.”

The second I said it, I knew it was true.  And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I knew I had a problem.  A big problem.  Because now there wasn’t just one Backstreet Boy. There were two.

Just my luck.

12. No Need To Panic
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