“I sincerely doubt that a guy would actually care whether or not my underwear matched if we were getting hot and heavy,” I retorted.
Skylar sighed, clearly frustrated, and I knew it pained her to explain, “It’s not about him so much as it’s about feeling confident and sexy.”
I decided maybe she had a point, so I caved. The theoretical guy, who I happened to imagine with raven hair, hazel eyes and sexy as hell lips, probably wouldn’t care; the color of said intimate wear would probably be the last thing on his mind, but I didn’t think it would hurt if matching underwear could make me feel sexier and more confident. Of course, it was all just wishful thinking on my part. Despite my newly acquired rack, I doubted I even registered on Jackson’s radar in any way that might affect his libido.
Most of my funds were depleted after purchasing two bras and matching panties, so I was glad Mom would be taking me shopping again later. She’d probably use her credit card, which in essence meant there would probably be a bit of a free for all. I never went crazy about shopping for clothes since it wasn’t necessarily one of my favorite pastimes, but when Mom used the credit card she was less pushy about prices and wouldn’t keep trying to direct me to the sales or clearance racks.
Skylar and I went to Old Navy next. I’d tried to stop and look at Hot Topic just to see if they had anything new, but Skylar refused to go in there. Anyone could see from the way she dressed that it was probably her favorite store, so I was confused.
“Why don’t you want to go in there?” I wondered as we passed the store. I glanced through the window, craning my neck to see beyond the signs. I thought I spotted Scott’s brown curls toward the back, probably helping some customers. “It looks like Scott’s working.”
“Good for him.”
Skylar’s nonchalance and reluctance to go inside turned the light of realization on inside my head. “You two broke up?”
“Mmm hmm,” she said, biting her lip and striding quickly toward the other end of the mall where Old Navy was located. I didn’t have to fight quite as hard as usual to keep up with her. The new length of my legs seemed to make my gait bigger, but my body still ached from all the changes it had gone through, literally, overnight.
“Why’d you break up?”
Skylar shrugged. “We got bored with each other, I guess.”
“I liked Scott. He was nice.”
“Well, maybe you can date him now,” Skylar smirked and that cruel look I was familiar with flashed in her eyes. “Since you’ve graduated from the itty bitty titty committee, he might actually notice you’re female.”
My face, which had finally started to return to its original color after the comment about being felt up, heated again as if it were on fire. Instead of being embarrassed, I was angry. “Why do you have to be such a bitch?” I glared.
“Because I’m so damn good at it,” Skylar spat over her shoulder and kept walking. That time I didn’t bother keeping up with her. I saw her disappear into Old Navy, and I followed a moment later.
I looked around, but I didn’t see Skylar, and that was fine. I couldn’t understand why she was so mean sometimes. She usually didn’t get nasty when I asked about her boyfriends, so I wondered if maybe Scott broke things off with her. The whole thing was kind of odd, actually. She’d kept Scott around nearly a month longer than most guys. I’d begun to think maybe things were changing with her, but, apparently, I was wrong.
Of course, if she treated him anything like she treated me, I couldn’t blame him for breaking up with her. I didn’t care if she was pretty or not, and I didn’t care if she was nice to me sometimes either. It sure as hell didn’t make up for the times, like now, when she was a complete and utter shrew. I was coming to realize I must have been out of my mind when I was younger and wanted to grow up and be just like her.
No thanks. I’ll pass, I thought bitterly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I’d heard it said that desperate times call for desperate measures, but I had personally never been despondent enough to go to great lengths for anything. That is until one afternoon while I sitting at my window seat reading The Da Vinci Code—I may or may not have hurried to the library to get it after Jackson’s recommendation.
I’d had the book for three days, and I was nearly finished. If I hadn’t been afraid to take the book with me to school, I’d have been done already. Alas, I didn’t want to risk the wrath of Mark Moses, so I’d kept to reading at home.
My stomach growled hungrily, so when I finished the chapter I was on, I forced myself to go downstairs and find a snack. I dug through the cabinets and came out with strawberry pop tarts, and when I went to grab a napkin, I remembered that I’d forgotten to ask Mom to take me to the mall to pick up a few things for my Spanish class’s fiesta.
We’d just finished a unit in Spanish, and because everyone was doing so well in the class, Mrs. Willis decided we could have a party during lunch one day. Most everyone else in class was bringing a Mexican or Spanish dish, and because I didn’t know how to make any other Mexican food besides tacos, I’d offered to bring plates, napkins and flatware. Unfortunately, buying said items slipped my mind until then, the night before the fiesta.
I checked the cabinets to see if we had any of those things, and while we had some napkins, there was no plastic flatware or paper plates to be found. Mom was still at work, and I knew she probably wouldn’t feel like going by the store after work and then coming home and cooking dinner. Dad wasn’t home yet either, but asking him to do something as soon as he walked through the front door was never a good idea.
Luke had already left for work, and I had no idea where Skylar went. She’d driven me home and come inside for a few minutes before she left again without a word. Not that I would have asked her for a ride anyway. She was still extremely grouchy. I’d heard her complaining to Stevie about everything under the sun on the phone the other night. I wasn’t too happy with her either. We’d barely spoken to each other since that night at the mall.
Most of the time I could brush off Skylar’s snide comments, and I probably wouldn’t have been so upset about her “itty bitty titty committee” comment if she’d just been joking, but she wasn’t. She’d heard me talking to Mom about it before, so she knew how self-conscious I was about my body and used it against me.
I’d tried calling Tegan to see if maybe Tierney or Trista would be willing to give me a ride to the mall, but no one answered at her house. Then I remembered that Tatum had a ballet recital that evening. My best guess was they’d gone out for an early dinner beforehand.
With all other options exhausted, I went back up to my room and collected the gift cards I’d received last Christmas. There were two, and I knew I didn’t have much more than about five dollars on each of them, but I was sure it would be more than enough to buy what I needed.
The weather had finally taken a turn for the cold, so I bundled up in my coat, gloves and hat and went into the garage and hopped on my bike. I hadn’t ridden it in months. The last time I’d been on it was when I went camping with the Tylers and we rode them around the campground.
It felt a little awkward at first because I was taller. I figured I probably needed my seat raised, but it would have to wait. The last time I tried to adjust it myself, I wound up removing the seat entirely and couldn’t get it back on. I had to ask Dad for help, and he wasn’t too happy.
When I was little, I loved riding my bike so much that Mom practically had to pry me away. I’d ride up and down the driveway a million times. That was, of course, before I started reading. Once I understood how letters came together to form words, I was all about reading and riding my bike for fun was long forgotten.
As I got older, I’d sometimes ride my bike over to play with Tegan, and we’d sometimes ride around the subdivision or to the small park near one of the entrances. Once we were too old for that, though, Tegan and I would usually only hop on our bikes only when we couldn’t find a ride.
I pedaled my way down t
he driveway and out onto the sidewalk. I wasn’t used to riding my bike in such cold weather, and my lungs felt like they were filling with ice, making it hard to catch my breath. On top of that, it felt like my seat was giving me a wedgie. It was beyond me why they made bicycle seats so small. Who wanted to ride around with their butt hanging over the sides of the seat? I didn’t. I needed one of those granny seats. It had to be at least a little more comfortable.
It was also hard to ride a bike wearing such a bulky coat and gloves, but I needed them to keep warm. By the time I reached the mall, I felt frozen to the core. I hated to think of what it would be like riding back home with bags in my hands. I realized I probably should have brought a book bag to carry on my back or something, but I doubted it would have fit over my coat.
I parked my bike at the bike rack. Since I didn’t have a lock for it, I hoped no one would steal it. It wasn’t top of the line and the seat was too small, but it was still a nice bike. After all, we went way back; it had been getting me from place to place without fail since I was twelve.
I took off my gloves as I walked into the mall. The heat hit my numb face immediately. I stuffed my gloves into my pockets and rubbed my hands together as I headed into Target. I quickly found the paper plates and plastic ware. I went ahead and got napkins too, thinking Mom wouldn’t appreciate it if I took the ones from home and left the family without any. Because they were so cheap, I also grabbed some festive looking streamers and went to pay.
As I headed for the exit, dreading the cold, I tried to decide how I was going to carry everything while riding my bike. I stopped near the doors to pull on my gloves and adjust my hat and nearly dropped my bag when I heard someone call my name.
With a name like Silly, it wasn’t something I heard people yell out often unless they were calling a friend silly, so I turned, curious, and was surprised to see Jackson headed toward me.
“Hey,” he said, smiling broadly.
“Hi,” I squeaked.
Part of me couldn’t help but feel mortified by the fact I looked like a giant, red marshmallow in my coat. I was sure my hair was a mess from pedaling in the wind, and I kept sniffling because my nose was cold. I knew I’d probably have a cold after this, but despite the fact I probably looked anything but attractive, I was still happy to see Jackson.
“Doing some shopping?” He nodded toward the bag in my hand.
“I had to get some stuff for school.” I noticed his hands were empty. “You?”
“I came in to check the schedule and get my check from Friday.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” I nodded, biting my bottom lip. I didn’t know what else to say.
“You going out this door?” He motioned toward the doorway several feet away.
“Yeah.” I instantly scolded myself as soon as the word was out of my mouth. I didn’t want him to see how ridiculous I looked on a bike. It was already bad enough it felt like my nose was starting to run. I was a snotty marshmallow. Could it get any worse?
Naturally, because I thought this, it did.
While trying to wipe my nose inconspicuously, I dropped my bag. I immediately stooped down to gather my things. Unfortunately, Jackson did the same and we banged our heads together, as we grabbed for the items.
“Ow,” we said in unison.
“Sorry,” I blushed, avoiding Jackson’s gaze as I rubbed my forehead.
“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his head, as he picked up the napkins while I grabbed the flatware and plates. I stuffed them into the plastic bag and held the bag open for him to place the napkins inside because I didn’t trust myself not to injure him while trying to take them from him.
We both stood, and there was an awkward silence before Jackson said, “I’ll walk you out.”
I couldn’t think of a polite way to protest, so I nodded as he zipped up his black leather jacket, which I noticed made him look pretty badass.
Once outside, Jackson looked around the parking lot. At first I thought he was trying to find his car, but I noticed it immediately parked at the back of the parking lot away from the other cars closer to the entrance.
Envious of his cool, and most likely warm car, I glanced over at the bike rack. I’d only been inside for a short time, but it felt like the temperature had dropped in that time. I knew I’d likely be an icicle by the time I made it home.
Why couldn’t the legal driving age be fifteen instead? I wondered.
Finally, Jackson looked at me and asked, “How’d you get here?”
My face warmed, but my cheeks were already pink from the cold. “I rode my bike,” I admitted.
Jackson’s eyes widened—they looked greener today, I noted—and his eyebrows lifted; his surprise was evident. “Seriously? Wasn’t that cold?”
“Very.”
He appraised me for a moment before he said, “Get your bike. I’ll give you a ride home.”
My first instinct was to nod eagerly and thank him profusely. He was beginning to seem a lot like my Prince Charming, coming to my rescue so often, but instead of acting like an overeager idiot, I decided to play things cool.
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” I said.
Jackson grinned. “You’re a Granger. I thought trouble was your middle name.”
That comment made me curious. I wondered if he knew something about Luke or Skylar, or both, that I didn’t. I realized he probably did, but instead of asking, I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “No, mine’s Noelle.”
“Hmm, that sounds kind innocent and angelic,” Jackson speculated.
It actually meant “born on Christmas day,” but I didn’t want to sound like a know-it-all, so I just shrugged. “I’m not an angel, but I try to stay out of trouble when I can.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Jackson grinned, “and giving you a ride home wouldn’t be any trouble.”
I bit my lip as if to think it over, but there was no doubt in my mind I was going to take him up on his offer for a ride. “Okay,” I finally nodded. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He pointed toward the bike rack. “Is this your bike?”
I grinned and couldn’t resist saying, “Well, seeing as it’s the only bike over there, what do you think?”
“Smart aleck,” he smirked as he walked over and pulled my bike away from the rack. He pushed it over and off the sidewalk and toward his car. I followed suit and watched as he unlocked the trunk and, effortlessly, lifted up my bike, maneuvering it inside, careful not to scratch his car.
I was surprised it fit, but Jackson managed just fine. He shut the trunk and walked around to the driver’s side door and unlocked it while I went around and pulled the passenger’s side door open and climbed inside. I shut the door and pulled on my seatbelt as Jackson did the same before turning on the car.
“It will take just a minute for it to heat up,” he commented, adjusting the heat.
Nodding, I sat my bag on the floor and stuffed my hands into my pockets.
“So why was it necessary to ride your bike in the cold to get that stuff?”
Sighing, I explained. “We’re having a fiesta in Spanish tomorrow. I’m in charge of the paper products, and I just remembered tonight.”
“And you couldn’t find a ride?”
I shook my head.
“Wow, that’s dedication,” he said. “You should get bonus points for that.”
“No kidding,” I laughed. I could feel the air starting to warm up a little.
Apparently, Jackson could too because he sighed, rubbing his bare hands together, before he looked around behind him and reversed out of the parking space. He maneuvered the car around and drove toward the nearest exit.
We stayed quiet until we were out of the mall parking lot. Then I said, “So, I’m almost finished with The Da Vinci Code.”
“Really?” Jackson seemed surprised. “When did you start reading it?”
“Tuesday,” I admitted somewhat sheepishly.
“Wow, you must be a fast r
eader.”
“I get absorbed,” I shrugged.
“I’d say so. It isn’t exactly a short novel.”
“Like four hundred and fifty pages,” I commented, “but compared to Stephen King novels, that’s not so bad.”
Jackson glanced over at me as he came to a stop at a light. “You like Stephen King?”
I nodded. “You read anything by him?”
“I’ve started a few, but I’m kind of a slow reader,” he admitted, and for the first time since I’d met him he seemed somewhat self-conscious about the admission.
“His stuff can take a while to get through,” I said, trying to ease his embarrassment. “I don’t know how many times I had to renew The Stand at the library, but it was a lot.”
Jackson smiled, seeming relieved, as he asked, “So what do you think of The Da Vinci Code so far?”
“Oh, it’s good. I really like it. I’ve had a hard time putting it down. I have a feeling I’ll have to reread it, though, because there’s so much to absorb, and I’m sure I missed some stuff.”
“It is a lot to take in,” he agreed. The light turned green, and the car jerked forward as Jackson pressed on the accelerator.
“It’s interesting. I can see why it’s caused so much controversy.”
“Yeah,” Jackson nodded, combing his messy hair back away from his eyes. “I don’t put much stock into it, but it does make for some really good reading.”
“Me too. I like books that are complex like that. It makes you think.”
Jackson smirked. “Why am I not surprised by that?”
“What do you mean?” I frowned.
“Well, after the first few times I talked to you, I could tell you were a thinker.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Is that a good thing?”
Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) Page 14