Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [22]
"Marcus likes you!" We might as well be in the tenth grade, from her tone and use of the word "likes."
I am intentionally obtuse. "I like him too," I say. "He's a nice guy." And a hell of an alibi.
"No, silly. I mean, he likes you. You must've done a good job at the party because he called Dex and got your number. I think he's going to ask you out for this weekend. Of course, I wanted it to be a double date, but Marcus said no, he doesn't want witnesses." She drops her bikinis onto the counter and fumbles in her purse for her wallet.
"He got my number from Dex?" I ask, thinking that this is quite a development.
"Yeah. Dex was cute when he told me about it. He was…" She looks up, searching for the right word. "Sort of protective of you."
"What do you mean by 'protective'?" I ask, way more interested in Dex's role in this exchange than in Marcus's intentions.
"Well, he gave Marcus the number, but when he got off the phone he asked me all these questions, like were you seeing anyone and did I think you would like Marcus. And you know, was he smart enough for you. Stuff like that. It was really cute."
I digest this information as the store clerk rings up Darcy's bikinis.
"So what did you tell him?"
"I just said that you were totally single, and that of course you'd be into Marcus. He's such a sweetie. Don't you think?"
I shrug. Marcus moved to New York from San Francisco only a few months ago. I know very little about him, except that he and Dex became friends at Georgetown, where Marcus's claim to fame was graduating dead last. Apparently Marcus never went to class and got high all the time. The most infamous story is that he overslept on the day of his statistics final exam, showed up twenty minutes late only to discover that he had thrown his remote control into his backpack instead of his calculator.
I haven't yet determined whether he is a free spirit or simply a buffoon.
"So are you psyched? If you get a date in with him before our share starts, you will have dibs on him over Claire and Hillary."
I laugh and shake my head.
"Seriously." Darcy signs her receipt and flashes a smile at the clerk. "Claire would love to sink her nails in him."
"Who said I'm going on a date?"
"Oh, puh-lease. Don't even start with that shit. You're going. (A) he is such a cutie. And (b) Rachel, no offense, but you can't exactly afford to be all picky, Ms. Haven't Been Laid in—what? Over a year?"
The store clerk looks up at me sympathetically. I glare at Darcy as I slide my tankini across the counter. Yeah, right—a year.
We leave Bloomingdale's and look for a cab on Third Avenue.
"So, you'll go out with Marcus?"
"I guess so."
"Promise?" she asks, getting her cell phone out of her purse.
"You want me to take a blood oath? Yes, I'll go," I say. "Who are you calling?"
"Dex. He bet me twenty bucks that you wouldn't go."
Darcy's right—I have nothing else going on. But the real reason I say yes to Marcus when he calls and asks me out is that Dex said I wouldn't go. And just in case he thought he had cast some sort of spell over me and I was going to turn Marcus down because I'm preoccupied with the Incident, I will go out with Marcus.
But as soon as I say yes, I start obsessing about what Marcus really knows. Did Dex tell him anything? I decide that I must call Dexter and find out. I hang up three times before I can dial the full number. My stomach is churning when he answers on the first ring. "Dex Thaler."
"So what does Marcus know about what happened last Saturday?" I blurt out, my heart racing.
"Well, hello to you too," he says.
I soften slightly. "Hi, Dex."
"Last Saturday? What was last Saturday? Refresh my memory."
"I'm being serious! What did you tell him?" I am horrified to find myself talking in the girly, whiny way that Darcy has perfected.
"What do you think I told him?" he asks.
"Dexter, tell me!"
"Oh, relax," he says, his tone still one of amusement. "I didn't tell him anything… What do you think this is? A high school locker room? Why would I tell anyone our