One entire Cosmopolitan later (the magazine, not the drink—give me some credit, people) and I was standing next to Brent on the Carters’ porch, decked out in brown velour pants and a white tank top.  My hair was in two braids with my love locks blowing against my forehead, and my feet would’ve been bare had Brent not insisted I throw on some flip-flops.  So how, you ask, does the Cosmopolitan figure into all this?

     It doesn’t.  Not at all.  And that was the point.

     In flipping crazily through the magazine, I’d come to a very serious conclusion.  I was twenty-one.  Legally, I could do a lot of things.  Smoke.  Drink.  Drive.  Vote.  Strip for national publications (although I think I’ll leave that for the likes of Pam Anderson).  In some states, I could even hold a public office.  Point?  I was WAY too old to be crushing over some boy.  Even if he is a Backstreet Boy.

     That said, I’d thrown the Cosmo across the room and abandoned my cutsie picnicking outfit for a casual look.  I was protesting my crush.

     I knew that, no matter what I wore, he wasn’t going to look at me.  And, if he didn’t care, then I didn’t have to either.

     Add to that the fact that Brent had told me not to do anything stupid or embarrassing before ringing the doorbell, and you’ll have a good idea of WHY I was so set on not making an effort.

     Suddenly, the door opened, and Angel Carter’s brown head popped out.  See?  She’s a brunette!  What does hair color matter to him?

     I groaned inwardly at myself and set my jaw.  I was determined. 

     “Hey, Angel!  What’s up?”

     She chuckled.  “Nothing much.  Come on in.  Nick’s in the den, glued to some stupid video game.  I swear, the boy hasn’t matured since fifteen…”

     Debatable.

     Brent laughed before I had the chance to.  “Probably not.  I’d better go see what he’s up to.”  He headed into the den, leaving me to linger in the foyer with Nick’s younger sister. 

     She winked at me.  “Man, if I looked that cute in casual clothes, I’d so have it made.”

     I rolled my eyes and nudged her playfully.  “This from the girl who’s been gracing runways since thirteen?  Whatever…”

     She laughed.  “Yeah, well…I’ll let you go hang with Nick.  He’s been looking forward to having you guys over all afternoon.”

     I grinned at her and tried to keep my heart from leaping into my throat with excitement.  “Thanks.  I’ll see you at dinner.”

     She flashed me another mega-watt grin before dashing back upstairs.

     SO not fair.  Why did everyone in their family have to be beautiful?

     I was still pondering the injustice of the world when I wandered into the den and plopped down beside my brother.

     “Hey.”

     Brent looked up, but Nick’s eyes remained glued to the screen.  “Hey.  How’s Angel?”

     “She’s great.  Gorgeous, as always.  What are you guys playing?”

     He grinned.  “Grand Theft Auto 3.  It’s kick-ass.”

     I swallowed my dignity and allowed the tomboy in me to creep out for a sec.  “It’s multi-player, right?”

     “Can be,” Nick finally answered.  “Wanna play?”

     “Sure.”  I held my hand out for the control, and he tossed it to me.  After ending the level, they saved and re-started the game so I could join them.  Before entering my name, though, Nick shot me a doubtful look.

     “You sure you want to play?  There’s a lot of beating people up.”

     Just a crush, just a crush, just a crush.  “Really?  On a video game?  You don’t say…”

     He rolled his eyes at my sarcasm, but he was smiling.  “Fine, I see how it is.  Just don’t come crying to me when you have nightmares about Miami Vice people beating up prostitutes, okay?”

     “Deal,” I fired back.  “But don’t expect me to console you when I kick your ass and crash your car.”

     Brent snorted.  “Oh, what-fucking-ever.  I’m gonna kick both your asses, and when I’m done, I’m going to steal your prostitutes.”

     I rolled my eyes and glared at the screen, watching our little characters appear.  It was odd, too, because as soon as I began playing, the weirdest thing happened; I was no longer in awe of Nick.  In fact, I was kinda pissed off.

     We started running around, and suddenly, it wasn’t just a game anymore.  I was getting revenge.  I’d beat up one of his cronies and ha!  That’s for ignoring me the other night when I was all done up and looking lovely.  I nabbed his car, and it was take THAT, you imbecile!  That’s for putting rubber snakes in my bed when I was little.  I threw a vending machine at one of his whores, and it was that’s for the years you spent without a fucking glance in my direction, punkass.

     We played for the better part of an hour before Mr. Carter called us out to the grill for burgers.  At that point, I’d kicked Nick’s ass, but I was still fuming.  We put down the controllers, and he looked at me appreciatively.

     “You’re pretty good with that thing.”

     Brent grinned and tossed a casual arm over my shoulder.  “Yeah, well…my little sister’s cool like that.”

     Needless to say, I was feeling pretty self-satisfied when we met up with Leslie and Angel on the back porch.  Angel glanced curiously at us.

     “So who won?”

     Nick laughed.  “Well, it’s not exactly a scoring game, but Lana pretty much kicked our asses.”

     Angel reached for a high five, and I obliged her.  “Way to go,” she cheered, and I shrugged.

     “They weren’t really that much competition.”

     I had to fight back a grin at the indignant look that crossed Nick’s face.  Any other time, I would’ve pushed him playfully and told him I was just kidding, but I wasn’t in the mood.  I was sick of being ignored, and I had a point to prove.

     “Beginner’s luck,” Nick scoffed, and I arched an eyebrow at him.

     “Did that really look like beginner to you?”

     I am such a bitch.

     We continued to talk smack about the game until Nick’s dad handed us plates.  Ten minutes after the food was ready, we were seated in a line along the edge of the pool, munching contentedly.  Where was I?  In the middle of the two boys, of course.

     I love my brother.  Really.  Times like these, though, and I wonder exactly how intelligent he is, because seating me beside Nick was hardly the smartest thing he could’ve done.

     “So, Lana, how are you liking school?”

     What?  Excuse me?  I must’ve been hearing things.  Maybe there was something wrong with my burger that was causing me to hallucinate.  Because I could’ve sworn that Nick Carter had just initiated conversation with me.

     Talk about an alternate universe.  First I kick his ass in my brother’s favorite video game (hardly luck…it’s the only one I know how to play, thanks to Brent, and my way of working myself out when I get mad), then I manage to destroy his ego, and he finally wants to talk to me? 

     Go freaking figure.

     “School’s fine.  Everything I’d hoped it’d be.”

     He nodded.  “That’s awesome.  What are you studying?”

     Another question?  What in the hell had gotten into him?

     “English.”

     “Yeah,” Brent piped up.  “Because she had a little trouble with it the first time around.”

     Freak.  I rolled my eyes and turned back to Nick.  “Actually, I’d like to go into environmental law.”

     His eyebrows rose, and I fought the urge to laugh.  It figures that the only time I’d ever impressed him was when I hadn’t been trying.  “Really?”

     “Yeah.  There are a lot of idealistic lobbyists in this world that believe we need to alter the way we consume natural resources, but the only way to get anything done is to educate yourself enough to fight for your beliefs, you know?”

     He nodded.  “Absolutely.  You know, I have an ocean campaign going on right now…”

     Yes, Nick, I know.  As does every other loyal fanatic within a two-thousand-mile radius.  Thanks for cluing me in.

     “What are you working on specifically?”

     “Cleanliness,” he answered, thoughtfully chewing on his burger.  He swallowed before continuing.  “I’m trying to work with some of the coastal agencies to clean the coasts more regularly.  Later, I’d like to argue for more effective and less detrimental oil transportation.  There’ve been too many spills and not enough has been done to fix things.”

     As I watched him talk, it was clear that he was extremely passionate about the subject, and I could feel all that anger from before dwindling away.  Damn boys with blonde hair and pretty blue eyes.  All he needed now was a guitar, and I’d be his forever.

     Hell, who am I kidding?  He didn’t even need the guitar.  I was already gone.

6. Use Disadvantages as Advantages
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