Ten

“I’d like a grande caramel macchiato, please.” It’s 9:00 in the morning, and I’m at the Starbucks on the University of Michigan campus, getting a much-needed coffee fix. I’m looking forward to a couple of relaxing hours enjoying my coffee and hitting some of the local thrift stores (I hear they’re fabulous) before my rally on the quad at 11:00. Suzette dropped me off early (that’s right, dropped me off, as in did not accompany me—I guess after my performance at Bryn Mawr, she’s decided I can be trusted to handle my campaign appearances on my own) for the requisite campus tour, but I managed to beg it off by saying I’d already been to the campus before to visit a friend (which is a total lie, but honestly, once you’ve seen one college campus, you’ve pretty much seen them all).

The Starbucks girl is just giving me my total when a voice suddenly pipes up behind me. “Can I get a venti soy latte?”

“Excuse me,” I say, whirling around to see who could be so unforgivibly rude. “I wasn’t really—” I stop short when I discover that I’m face to face with none other than Jake Bennett. Suddenly, I’ve lost my train of thought. “What are you doing here?” I demand.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Julia,” he responds sarcastically. “And I’m trying to get a coffee. That is, if you’ll let me.”

“I mean, what are you doing in Ann Arbor?” I press. “I thought your father’s campaign was in Arizona this week.”

“They are,” Jake says, “but unlike some people, I don’t have to follow mommy and daddy everywhere they go.”

“Ugh,” I scoff. “Do you have some sort of problem with the fact that I’m campaigning with my family? I mean, isn’t your party all about ‘family values’? It seems that, of all people, you’d understand the reasoning behind it.”

“This isn’t about ‘family values,’” Jake responds derisively. “It’s about campaign strategy, and we feel that the best strategy is to split up and cover as many places as possible. But that’d be pretty difficult for you, since it’s obvious your campaign doesn’t trust you to handle events on your own.”

“Do you see any campaign staffers here?” I ask, gesturing angrily around the room. “Anyway, you never answered my question. Why are you in Ann Arbor?”

“I had an event here yesterday,” he says, “and I decided to stay an extra day to catch up with some friends who go to school here. Plus, I wanted to come to your rally later.”

“To heckle me, no doubt.”

“Actually,” he says, dropping his voice and leaning in closer, “I was just hoping to get another glimpse of your famous underwear.”

I want to slap him so badly that it takes every ounce of self-restraint I have to resist. Instead, I just glower silently for a few seconds, then turn my back to him and hand my money to the cashier.

“Besides,” he continues as the girl gives me my change, “I wanted to see what I’m going to be in for next week in Madison.”

I whip back around. “What are you talking about?”

“Our event next week,” he says slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “At the University of Wisconsin. In Madison.”

“Our event?” I repeat.

“Yes,” he says in the same condescendingly patient tone. “It’s that MTV Rock the Vote thing. We’re appearing together.” He searches my face for some hint of recognition, but finds none, as this is the first I’m hearing about any joint appearance with Jake Bennett. “Wow, your campaign staff really doesn’t tell you anything, do they?”

“As a matter of fact, I know exactly what you’re talking about,” I say haughtily, attempting to cover my bewilderment. “It must have just slipped my mind.” This is not entirely untrue. Suzette did mention the MTV event, but I’m fairly certain she never said anything about Jake Bennett being involved. I definitely would have remembered that.

“Uh-huh,” Jake says disbelievingly, with a little smirk. Fortunately, before he can press me on the issue, my coffee comes up. I had intended to drink it while lounging on one of the comfy-looking leather couches at Starbucks, but given Jake’s sudden appearance, I’m desperate to leave the store as soon as possible.

“Well, Jake, it was nice to see you again,” I say coldly as I turn to leave.

“You, too,” he says with a somewhat venomous smile. “Looking forward to the rally!”

I fix him with another scowl as I push open the door. Out on the street, I pause and take a deep breath to try and calm myself down, but it doesn’t work. I’m fuming. How could Suzette have failed to mention this? And why is it that every time I see Jake Bennett, he ends up making me look like a complete idiot?

After this distressing encounter, I’m definitely in need of some retail therapy. An hour an a half (and seven thrift shops, three scarves, and two very cute vintage T-shirts) later, I’m making my way to the quad in a much better mood. I haven’t left myself much time to go over my speech, but I’m not worried. After all, it’s the exact same generic, get-out-and-vote message that I delivered at Bryn Mawr, and the exact same one that I’ll give for the rest of the campaign—that is, unless the heavens open up and by some miracle Suzette allows me to actually talk about the issues. But I don’t really forsee that happening.

As I approach the quad, I see that the crowd is already forming. I check my watch—fifteen minutes to go. There don’t seem to be any protesters yet, but I’m not discounting the possibility of a last-minute appearance. I don’t notice Jake anywhere, either. Maybe he was just bluffing about coming to the rally to try and psych me out.

When I take my seat on the makeshift stage a few minutes later, I’m too busy giving my notes a last-minute read-through to look out over the crowd again. It’s not until I’m walking to the podium that I spot him, grinning impishly in the front row. His presence throws me for a second, but I quickly regain my composure. This is my chance to prove myself, I think. There’s nothing he can do to make me look like an idiot now.

The speech goes off without a hitch. The audience is attentive, cheering at the right moments, and there’s not a protester in sight. I’m so proud of myself that I can’t resist looking down at Jake and giving him a smug, satisfied little smirk before I turn to walk off the stage.

Unfortunately, I have my head held so high that I don’t notice the microphone wire running across the stage. It snags on the heel of my shoe, and I tumble backward, managing to catch myself just before I come crashing down on my butt. When I do this, one of my legs shoots up, and my kitten-heel slide goes sailing off into the audience. I’m too startled to see which lucky audience member catches it, but I finally get my bearings and stand back up.

I fight the urge to just slink away in shame, smiling and taking a little bow. The audience responds with a loud cheer as I hobble off the side of the stage. I’m standing around, wondering exactly how I’m going to get back to the parking lot at the bookstore (where Suzette has arranged to pick me up) with only one shoe, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see Jake standing there with one hand behind his back.

“I believe this is yours, Cinderella,” he says, producing my shoe with excessive flourish. Great. Of all the people in the audience, he would have the be the one to catch it. Unless, of course, he bribed some poor student into letting him be the one to give it back to me in order to make me feel more ridiculous than I already do. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

“Thanks,” I say grudgingly, yanking the shoe out of his hand and shoving it back on my foot.

I’m just turning to go when I hear him say, “Can I walk you somewhere?”

“No thank you,” I reply coolly. “I don’t require an escort.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “I know you don’t require an escort,” he says. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” I shoot back.

Jake says nothing. Is it just my imagination, or does he look somewhat hurt by what I’ve just said? I study him for a second before deciding it must be in my mind.

“Anyway,” I continue, “I’m sure you have more important things to do. I can manage on my own.”

“Fair enough,” Jake concedes. “I’ll see you in Madison.”

“Great,” I say with a forced smile, before turning to head across campus to the bookstore. So much for not making a fool out of myself in front of Jake, I think as I walk. But it could be worse, I tell myself. At least I was wearing trousers this time, so no one got another glimpse of my underwear. And a little stumble at a campus event in Michigan is unlikely to provide much fodder for the late-night talk shows.

When I arrive at the bookstore parking lot, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Chris waiting for me instead of Suzette. My face breaks into a grin, and I ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Suzette was busy handling some crisis or another,” he says, “so I volunteered to pick you up.”

I move to hug him, but he grabs my arm to stop me. He looks around pointedly at the students milling by us, and I sigh. Since our kiss on the soccer field last week, things have been difficult. We’ve tried to deny our attraction to each other, but I don’t think it’s working. Every accidental brush of the hand, every knowing glance, has only served to increase the tension between us, and at this point, I’m about ready to burst.

We walk to the rental car, and as soon as his door clicks shut, I lean over and begin plying him with kisses. “Julia,” he breathes, by way of weak protest, but it’s no use. Hearing him whisper my name makes me want him even more. As he’s kissing my neck, I climb over into his seat. Just as I’m bending my head down to find his mouth again, he takes both of my arms and pushes me back against the steering wheel.

“We can’t be doing this,” he pants.

“Sure we can,” I say, trying to kiss him again, but he continues to hold me back. “Come on,” I plead. “No one will even notice us.” I look around. There are a few students cutting through the parking lot on their way to class, but none of them seem to be paying any attention to what’s going on in our car. “We’re just two college kids making out in the parking lot. A mundane, everyday sight.”

“Except we’re not two college kids,” Chris says, “and in case you’ve forgotten, you have a very famous face.” He underlines this point by reaching up to tap me on the nose, but he then lets his finger drop and play across my lips as he stares at them with a pained expression.

I grab his hand. “Then why did you volunteer to come get me today?” I ask.

“Because I wanted to do this,” he murmurs, reaching behind me and pulling me to him once again. We kiss for another minute or so before I finally pull back.

“No, you’re right,” I say, sliding resignedly back into my own seat. “If anyone saw us, we could both be in big trouble.”

Chris reaches over and takes my face in his hand, running his thumb along my cheek. We regard each other sadly for a moment before he withdraws his hand and starts the car.

We don’t say anything on the drive back to meet the campaign bus. I rest my head against the cool window and pretend to be asleep, but really my mind is swirling. I know this little affair that we’ve started could be dangerous for us both, but I feel powerless to stop it. Every time we’re together, I just want to kiss him and touch him and feel him near me. I felt this way before I knew what his feelings for me were, and it’s not like I can exactly turn my emotions (or my hormones) off. I glance over at him, but his eyes are focused on the road straight ahead.

When we reach the campaign bus, we part, exchanging only mumbled good-byes, and head to our respective entrances of the bus. I walk up the steps, ready to retire to my seat and sulk until we reach our next destination, when I notice Suzette and suddenly remember her failure to inform me about my joint appearance with Jake.

“Suzette?” I say, tapping her on the shoulder.

She turns away from the campaign staffer she’s talking to and says, “Julia! Good, you’re back. How was the rally?”

“It was fine,” I say distractedly. “I mean, I fell flat on my ass on the stage after my speech was over, but otherwise it was fine.” Suzette grimaces at this news. “Anyway,” I rush on, “why didn’t you tell me that I’m doing an event with Jake Bennett next week?”

“Oh, the MTV thing?” she asks casually. “I did tell you, didn’t I?”

“You told me about the event,” I say, my voice tightening with frustration, “but you conveniently forgot to mention that Jake would be there as well.”

“Sorry,” she says. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” I repeat incredulously. “The big deal is that I hate him. He’s a total jerk, and I don’t want to be within ten feet of him, much less have to appear on television with him.”

“Oh, Julia,” Suzette sighs, “please stop being so dramatic. It’s just a little five-minute spot on MTV. I think you’ll survive.”

“No,” I insist. “I will not survive. Because he’s going to find some way to make me look stupid, just like he always does.”

“You’re so paranoid,” Suzette scoffs. “Anyway, if we pull out now, we’ll just look like bad sports. This is supposed to be a nice little bipartisan show of support for the youth vote, so I’d suggest you just suck it up.”

“When it comes to Jake Bennett, I cannot be bipartisan,” I inform her.

“Well, try,” she says through clenched teeth before turning to talk to someone else who’s demanding her attention.

Seething, I start to head for the back of the bus when I hear her call, “Julia!” I turn back around. “I might as well tell you now…the two of you are also scheduled to hand out an MTV award together while we’re in Las Vegas.”

“And I suppose there’s no getting out of that, either, is there?” I ask bitterly. Suzette shakes her head firmly. “Great,” I mutter as I stomp back to my seat.

As I sink down into the plush leather cushions, I feel tears welling up behind my eyes. I’ve tried to be strong and not cry over things that happen in the campaign, but now I can’t help but let a few tears dribble down my cheeks. The journey I began a few weeks ago with such promise is now just turning into a horrible, horrible mess.