Chapter Seven
A NEW THING
The evening rush at Sugar Cube was chaotic. I hurried to refill the case out front with a new batch of cupcakes after a lady came in and bought out what was left for her daughter’s slumber party. Sloan held the door to the case open for me as I shoved myself inside it to arrange each one perfectly. I must have been taking too long because Sloan’s face peeked around the corner. “So, are you going to tell me what the super, big emergency is?”
I glanced over my shoulder at her then refocused on rotating the cupcakes so their best side showed to the public. “I told you we have to wait for Ava to get here first.”
Sloan huffed impatiently. “And you’re positive this news can’t wait until after your shift tonight?”
“No. Definitely not.”
Sloan leaned up against the side of the case as I wiggled my way back out and carefully shut the door. Sloan grabbed the edge of my apron and twisted it around her fingers. “Just tell me. Now. Please.”
I pulled my apron free of her grasp and started back to the kitchen. Ava should arrive any minute, and I didn’t want to have to tell the story twice. “Be patient,” I said over my shoulder.
Gretchen grabbed Sloan on her way into the kitchen behind me. “After she tells you, come tell me. I want to know why she came in here skipping like Mary Sunshine today.”
“Skipping isn’t a crime,” I yelled from around the corner.
Sloan stepped into view, watching me as I started the giant mixer and added ingredients. When I turned back around, Sloan crossed her arms over her chest, a sly smile forming on her lips. “Are you dancing?”
“What? No. I am certainly not dancing.”
“Yes, you were. Your tush was shaking it.” She stepped closer, her gaze honed in on my blushing face. “Did you talk to him?”
“Who?”
“You know exactly who. You talked to him today, didn’t you?”
Do not smile. Do not smile.
“No.”
Sloan’s eyes practically popped out of her head. “Liar.”
I winced and Sloan pounced on me. “Holy crap! Eloise…”
Sloan shook my body like I was a piggy bank with one dime left. I grabbed hold of her forearms to try to stabilize myself, but she started shaking along with me. “How did this happen? Did he approach you? Oh my gosh, did you approach him?”
Unraveling myself from her grasp, I quickly darted around the side of the counter to safety. “Well…something like that.”
“What do you mean?”
I bit my lip and peeked around the door to make sure Gretchen wasn’t in hearing range. “I mean, I sort of made the initial…contact.”
“Contact? Are you an alien mothership now? Just tell me what the hell happened.”
I must have made an awkward, possibly pathetic face, because Sloan lost all excitement. “Elle?”
“I was studying,” I said quickly, because I had to either get it out fast or not at all. “I didn’t see him walking by and I kind of shoved my big anatomy textbook off the table in frustration.”
Her brows creased. “And?”
“And it might have gone directly into his crotch.”
Sloan paused. As in air flow ceased from her body. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly. I thought you said you hit him in the crotch with your anatomy book.”
I winced. “I did. It was horrible.”
Sloan leaned across the table. “Is he okay? Did it hurt him?”
“He was definitely down for the count for a couple solid minutes. But I think everything survived.”
Her fingers splayed across her face. “Only you, Elle Duncan.”
“I know,” I said, almost whining out the words. “But it did lead to a conversation. Then that conversation led to us sitting together to study. And now he wants to meet again tomorrow to help me study for my quiz on Friday.”
Sloan grabbed her heart. “You have a date?”
The goofiest smile erupted on my face. “A study date, but yeah.”
Now both hands clutched her chest and she feigned a heart attack. I grabbed a handful of flour out of the bowl on the table and threw it at her. “You don’t have to act so damn surprised.”
Sloan laughed, her smile vibrant as she bounced around the counter to me. “I’m so proud of you. So, what did he think about you leaving him the cupcakes? Was he surprised?”
I inched back a step. I nodded slightly and hummed something under my breath that wasn’t exactly English and tried to play it off. “So, you have to help me figure out what to wear tomorrow. Okay?”
Sloan’s hand clenched tight against her hip that already cocked out to the side. “Eloise,” she said curtly. “You did not answer my question.”
I forced out a smile. “I’m thinking something classic. Black and red, perhaps?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell him you’re the one who left him the cupcakes?”
I deflated against the counter. I should have known better than to think I could conveniently skip over that part. Sloan was a truth seeking shark, and her bite more naggy than painful. “It didn’t seem pertinent to the conversation at the time.”
“Not pertinent? Elle, you can’t possibly believe—”
I held up my hands. “Stop. I can’t. Not yet.”
Sloan gave me the most pathetic look imaginable. And I’m sure I returned it. “Sweetie,” she said, her voice all motherly now, “you can’t not tell him it was you. When he finds out where you work…what your name is…he’ll know.”
“Those are all very rational facts.”
Sloan pressed her lips together. She knew me. Rational wasn’t a realistic expectation. “Soon,” she said, finally. “Promise me.”
I nodded and she flung herself at me. Her python-like hug engulfed me from all angles. “I love you, Eloise Duncan. And I really am proud of you.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I tried to push her off, but she wasn’t willing to let go. Instead, she squeezed me tighter.
“And for the record. You should totally do red and black tomorrow.”
Finally, I hugged her back. “Thanks.”
Over Sloan’s shoulder, Gretchen stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her fingers pressed over her mouth as if she might cry. “I’m proud of you too.”
Rolling my eyes, I motioned her over to join our sap-fest. All I did was talk to the guy. You would think I performed some massive feat of heroism. Maybe lost a limb and saved a few orphans. As their hugs pressed tighter against me, I realized that maybe my making the first move, even though unintentionally, really was something to be proud about. At least in my own tiny bubble of personal accomplishments. For the first time…maybe ever, I was sincerely proud of myself too.
And then my phone buzzed in my backpack. My body stiffened. All sense of accomplishment and flush of self-esteem crashed and burned at my feet. It was like he knew. A sixth sense that told my father the right time to dash my dreams and damper any inkling of pride in myself. I glanced over my shoulder at my bag. I wanted to answer it. It was a horrible habit. Or maybe it was something deeper and much worse than a habit. Fear?
Was I actually scared of him?
I told myself constantly that it was merely his financial support I couldn’t survive without, but broke kids went to college all the time. Something else kept that cord I couldn’t break bound between us. And in this moment, as the buzzing continued in the background, that small jab in my stomach told me everything I needed to know about my relationship with my father.
I didn’t know what he would do if I left him too. And I was scared to find out.
Gretchen leaned back. “Is that your phone?”
“Umm. No. It’s fine. Probably just Ava, anyway.”
My voice shook, and Sloan noticed immediately. Her hand remained on my back. She knew my father. She’d met him once. He’d looked down his nose at her, as if deciding in the moment it took her to introduce herself tha
t he didn’t like her. Maybe it was her confidence. Her girl power, rule the world attitude. Whatever it was, my father had made it clear we weren’t to be friends.
I asked her to hang out as soon as he left and we’d been friends ever since. Sloan didn’t ask too many questions about my father, but she knew. She was excellent at reading me. Just like now. She rubbed my shoulder. If Gretchen wasn’t there, she would tell me it would be okay. To ignore him. To let the cord fray and break for good. Even though I wanted out, it was difficult to imagine my life without him. It was all I knew. And the unknown was scary too.
I tucked my hair behind my ears and blew out a nervous breath. Defying him made me sick to my stomach. Something as simple as ignoring his calls kept me on edge. I needed to do something to get my mind off it, or I would call him back. And I was certain if I admitted the truth to him, that would be the end of it. No more college in Maryland. No more friends he didn’t pre-approve. No more freedom. And definitely no more Oliver.
“I really need to get these cupcakes in the oven,” I said, easing myself away from Sloan and Gretchen in my usual “distance myself from everything good” kind of way.
The look on Gretchen’s face told me she thought my sudden change in demeanor was fishy, but she didn’t push it. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”
I smiled politely. “Of course.”
Sloan waited silently until she left and she kissed the side of my head. “You are strong, my sweet Elle. You keep doing what is best for you. I’m here if you need me.”
Now my smile was fake. “Thanks. Do you think you could call Ava and tell her the story? I really need to be alone and bake for a while.”
“Sure. But call me tomorrow after your date, okay?”
“Absolutely. Celebration pie at my place?”
“Oh, you know me so well,” she said, humming a moan of pleasure at the thought of my homemade pie.
Sloan gave me a quick hug then disappeared out the back door, leaving me to my silent refuge. I closed my eyes and took in the soft, buttery smell of my cupcake mix, perfectly blended, waiting for me in the mixer.
“I can do this,” I said to myself.
I could talk to Oliver Edwards.
I could make myself proud, because that was the only opinion that truly mattered.
***
Who knew that “get your beauty sleep” was a literal thing? After another sleepless, nightmare filled night, my hair looked like something from a Gwen Stefani video. It defied gravity and reason. Maybe I walked in my sleep through my apartment and stuck my finger in a socket without realizing it. I attempted to maneuver a comb through it, but it only made it angry and ultimately frizzier. I texted for backup from the only person I knew who could save me.
Eloise: 911
Eloise: S.O.S
Eloise: Code Crazy Frizz.
Ava: How bad are we talking about? Should I bring my Frizz Be Gone?
Eloise: It’s bring a wig bad. HELP!
Ava: On my way. Be there in 10.
I sat in front of my mirror, my face cupped in my hands, the comb entangled and lost amid the rabid, snapping follicles of my hair. This was so bad. I couldn’t go meet Oliver looking like Frankenstein’s girlfriend. I whined into my hands, hoping I would somehow wake up to realize it was another horrible dream. I didn’t wake, but Ava did keep true to her word and knocked on my door before her ten-minute time limit expired. I jerked the door open, and Ava almost dropped the bag of hair supplies at the sight of me. “Whoa.”
I frowned at her. “Thanks for the confidence boost.”
She came inside, and I shut the door. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching up to touch the trapped comb, “but normally you’re all quirky vixen-like with your little Marilyn Monroe curls. But this—” She pulled her hand away as if my hair might actually bite.
“Yes. I get it. It’s scary. Can we please fix this before my study date with Oliver?”
Ava’s smile burst onto her face. “I still can’t believe you have a date.”
I rolled my eyes as I stomped off into my bathroom. “Yes. Eloise has a date. Everyone is so surprised and fascinated. We should take pictures and document it, so future generations will believe you when you tell how you witnessed it firsthand.”
Ava gave my elbow a playful shove. “Oh, don’t be a grouch. Just because your hair has performed a coup doesn’t mean you have to be a smartass.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t have to be one. I just want to be.”
Ava directed me over to the edge of my bed where she sat me down on the floor. She took the position behind me on the bed and started trying to free my comb from captivity. I winced every time she pulled a strand. My hair was always so sensitive. It knew just how to torture me. “So, what are you going to wear?”
I pointed toward the closet door to the little black dress hanging from the doorknob. “That?”
“Yeah. Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s nice,” Ava said in the same patronizing tone one might use to describe the boy your grandmother always wanted you to date. “It’s just not what I had in mind for you.”
I tried to crane my head back so I could look at her. Or rather, glare. “If you think I’m showing up at the library dressed like I’m auditioning for a part in Pretty Woman, you’re wrong.”
“A little preview couldn’t hurt.”
I scoffed at the thought. “Do you see anything ‘little’ about me?”
“Okay, so maybe it would be a 3D preview with interactive capabilities, but it would work. You know it would.”
I sighed as Ava pulled the comb free from the web of hair surrounding it. “Possibly. However, I don’t want to win him over with my interactive capabilities. At least, not on the first study date.”
“Fine,” Ava said, releasing a gush of air as she began spraying down my hair with some sort of syrupy concoction, “win him over with your wit and comedic relief.”
“Thanks for the approval.”
Ava ignored my snarkiness as she often did and began humming while she worked. Once she applied enough product to my hair that she could get the comb through it, I was allowed to go wash it. After blowing it dry, it continued to be a little disgruntled, but with Ava’s honed skillset, she had my bouncy waves in perfect, silky condition within the hour. Just in time for class and, of course, study time with Oliver.
I put on my dress and added my required accessories and fluffed out my hair in the mirror. “It’s perfect, Ava. I can’t thank you enough.”
“My pleasure,” she said, gathering up her things. “I expect a full report after your date, though. No more secondhand stories from Sloan.”
“Yes. Yes. I promise.”
I grabbed my backpack and the rest of my things and followed Ava out. I made sure to leave my phone behind. I didn’t want any distractions today. Not that Oliver wasn’t the biggest distraction of all. I pushed the thought away and hurried Ava to the elevator. Luckily, I made it to class on time, though my attention to the subject matter was questionable at best.
Non-existent. My attention was non-existent.
I checked my watch after class, even though I knew the time. I had fifteen minutes to make the short commute across campus to the library. Normally, I would speed walk there, in a rush to get to my spot. Today, I took my time. I’d been so worried about my clothes, and my hair, and the never ending voicemails from my father that I’d completely forgotten about what I would I say to him.
What will I say?
People chatted around me on my walk, and I could hear their casual conversations about classes and the latest hit sitcom. The conversation appeared so easy. Natural, almost. It wouldn’t be that way for me. I would have to preplan every topic, and practice a couple times in my head. Our previous encounter had been fueled by pure adrenaline. Words practically flowed out my mouth like a fountain on turbo boost. My steps became slower and less purpose driven the closer I got to the giant building with aged bric
k and hippie inspired architecture. When I made it to the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps, I came to a complete stop.
“I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” said a voice behind me.
I whirled around to find Sloan rushing toward to me with Ava by her side. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving you from yourself,” Ava said, grabbing hold of my arm. “I could see the anxiety building in your eyes this morning. I knew you would try to back out.”
“And we are here to make sure you don’t.”
“I can’t go in there. I have no idea what I would even say to him.”
“Ask him about his crotch,” Ava suggested, dragging me up the steps like a dog to the bathtub. “Or his classes. Or his major. Anything.”
“It isn’t that easy.”
“It is, Elle. You did it yesterday. You can do it again.”
Scenario after horrible, socially awkward scenario played through my mind. Each one followed by my father’s voice, telling me all those things I already knew about myself.
I’m not buying that. Dress like a normal person.
Did you forget how to talk? Well, then, stop sitting there like a knot on a log. People already think you’re weird.
“Guys. Sloan. Please. Wait a second.” My breath shortened. My heartrate sped up. My knees turned weak and too flexible.
“Sit her down,” Sloan instructed, helping me to the step. “Deep breaths, Elle.”
I tried to follow her instructions, but the campus in front of me spun. “I just need a minute.”
Ava sat beside me. “Forcing you was the wrong answer,” she said softly. “So, tell us what we can do to make this easier for you.”
Deep breath after deep breath, and finally everything started to come back into focus. “Talk me through it. Step by step. I need to know what to expect.”
Sloan rubbed my shoulders. “Okay. You are going to go into the library. Oliver will most likely already be there. You find his table and walk up to him.”
Confession Of A Nerdoholic Page 6