Free Inside the Mind of Gideon Rayburn by Sarah Miller Page B

P. Diddy air-dries. Perhaps it invites success. He takes in the world below: backpacks carried on young, sturdy bodies, slow-moving shiny German imports, the tops of pretty trees. He feels his heart soaring out above it all. His mind-set is positive, defiant. Why not Madison? Why not any of them? Not only is he going to get laid before Halloween, he's going to get laid well before Halloween.
    When he opens the door to the room, he's surprised to see Cullen and Nicholas seated in their desk chairs, waiting for him. Nicholas is already showered and dressed in khakis, a white shirt, and a red tie; Cullen's still in the ripped hockey shirt he slept in and a pair of plaid boxers. Their expressions are grave. Cullen flips his cell phone over and over in his hand. He's clearly just gotten some information.
    "Madison," Cullen begins, in a tone mixing sarcasm and affection, "wants to have sex with you."
    "Madison? Madison likes me?" Gid sits down on the bed, exhaustion forgotten, adrenaline flowing. "It's so weird. I was just thinking about her in the shower." Nicholas wrinkles his nose in distaste at this image. Gid's too excited to care. "She wants to go out with me?" he says.
    "No, dumbass. She wants to sleep with you. She goes out with Hal Plimcoat."
    "Very funny," Gideon says. Hal Plimcoat is the lead singer of the Rutts, a British rock band.
    Cullen gets up and goes to the closet, pulling off his underwear. "I'm not joking, dude."
    Gideon averts his eyes. "Afraid of facing the giant monster, huh?" Cullen says. "I dig it. Hey, it scares me sometimes." Gideon doesn't say anything. He isn't afraid of seeing Cullen's, as he calls it, "giant monster," but he definitely doesn't need any more proof of Cullen's superior being. But who cares about that? Madison's boyfriend is famous! Rich! And she wants Gid instead!
    "So," Nicholas says, "what this presents is a problem."
    "A problem!" Gid has visions of Hal Plimcoat collapsing onstage in grief. And would this make the papers? He opens the drawer to take out his brand-new khakis and in the back sees the little paper bag. Three days ago, he was lying on Danielle's canopy bed, surrounded by her "wipes clean!" flowered vinyl wallpaper, and now he's being pursued by a leggy brunette who dates rock stars and dresses like a rich hooker. "I don't see a problem."
    Nicholas and Cullen have this shorthand when they don't know what to say where they make their lips disappear into their mouths and raise their eyebrows. In Gid's case, I think it means, What the fuck are we going to do with this country bumpkin? I feel bad for him. There's nothing worse than being around two people who don't even have to speak to understand each other, especially when you don't understand them when they're actually speaking.
    Gid repeats, "I don't see a problem."
    Nicholas puts his hands together and bows to Cullen. Tm sure you will put it best," he says, meaning, I guess, that he might put it unkindly.
    Gid is quick to detect Cullen's smile as a member of the blow-softening variety. "Nicholas and I agree we made a mistake in not making the bet specific enough," Cullen says, half-dressed now, his red tie in his hand. "You can always get girls to sleep with you. You can always fall in with this one or that one. What's difficult is getting a specific girl, setting your sights on someone, and getting her to sleep with you. Especially girls out of your league," Cullen says.
    "But Madison is specific and out of my league," Gideon says. "Why can't I just sleep with Madison?"
    Nicholas ignores the question and continues. "We need to find a girl tailored to you. A girl who really might sleep with you, who isn't below your level, but who isn't above it. A good challenge, but not an absurd one."
    Hapless Gid still believes he just hasn't made himself clear. "I don't understand," Gid says, "why I can't —"
    "If you say 'sleep with Madison,' I promise you, you will be killed," Nicholas says, now casting a dark eye on Cullen and a