Without waiting for an answer, I hurried into the music store. Rachel and Haley were over near the registers looking at the rack of new releases, and I spotted Britt and Marcus giggling together over something in the kiddie section. Behind me I could hear Riley’s footsteps. Not wanting to look at him right then, I stepped over to the nearest bin of CDs and started digging through them without really seeing them.
He came up beside me and stood there for a moment. I realized I was holding my breath. When I let it out and breathed in again, I caught a whiff of his distinctive spicy-soapy-coffee scent, the one I’d first noticed back at the planetarium. But I did my best to ignore the flutter it caused in my stomach.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment.
I didn’t meet his eye, instead busying myself with the next row of CDs, flipping through them one at a time. “Sure, fine.”
“Are you positive?” He leaned on the edge of the bin, trying to get a look at my face. “Because I never knew you were so into opera.”
I blinked, finally focusing in on those CDs. Oops. Dropping the one I’d just picked up, I shrugged and moved on.
“What’s the big?” I said. “I have eclectic tastes; so sue me.”
He frowned, watching me as I paused by the dancehall section. “Look,” he said after a moment. “If you’re mad at me or something, at least tell me what I did, okay?”
For a second I was tempted. Why not lay things on the line? Somebody had to tell Riley he was making a huge mistake before he made a complete fool of himself over a girl who didn’t deserve him… .
But the feeling passed quickly. I’d already tried being honest. What was the point in trying again now that he was so sure he’d found her? If his longtime pals couldn’t get through to him, what chance did I have? At least if I kept quiet, maybe we could still be friends. That was better than nothing, right? And I wasn’t the type to pine away over someone who was into someone else. No way. I definitely wasn’t that pathetic. As Britt was always saying, there were plenty of fish in the sea.
“Sorry,” I said, turning to face him. “Guess I’m just a little distracted today. Listen, about that necklace—I’m sure Megan will adore it. Any girl would.”
“Really?” His face lit up. “Thanks, Lauren.”
“You’re welcome. And hey, good luck tomorrow, okay? I’m sure it’ll be awesomely romantic.”
He smiled, looking relieved. “Thanks,” he said again. “You’re the best. Did I mention I’m glad we met?”
“Yeah. But it’s always nice to hear it.” I smiled at him, feeling my heart break a little. But I did my best to ignore it. Not pathetic—nope, not me.
Once I’d convinced Riley that I was happy for him, I almost managed to convince myself, too. Or at least forget everything that had happened and try to have a good time.
And before long I actually was—having a good time, that is. Riley and his friends were a blast. Marcus kept us all in stitches with his lively sense of humor; a few times Britt laughed so hard I was afraid she was going to pass out.
I couldn’t help noticing that Britt wasn’t acting quite like herself. At least not when it came to Marcus. I first noticed when he stepped aside to let her go first on the escalator. Instead of saying something obnoxious, she just thanked him and went ahead.
A little after that we stopped in the candle store so Haley could buy a present for her aunt’s birthday. Britt found a juniper-scented candle that she liked. And when Marcus joked about buying it for her for Christmas, she didn’t say something Britt-like, like, “Why wait? Christmas is a long time from now,” or, “Hey, if you’re offering, I could use a new Coach bag.” Instead she just smiled at him and held out the candle for him to smell too. The light was kind of dim in there—candles, remember?—but I almost would have sworn that she blushed a little. Almost. Because Britt does not blush.
And when we were all browsing in Macy’s and she held up a purple top for his opinion, she actually listened when he said he liked the blue one for her better … and grabbed the blue one!
“Think I’ll try it on,” she said.
“I’ll come with you.” I grabbed the first thing I could find that was anywhere near my size—a boring beige polo—and followed her into the dressing room. As soon as we were alone in one of the roomy stalls, I tossed the polo aside. “So what’s going on with you and Marcus?” I demanded.
She pulled her T-shirt off over her head. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice muffled by the fabric.
I waited until I could see her face again before answering. “I mean you’re acting different with him,” I said. “You’re not treating him like your usual boy toys. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you actually, you know, liked and respected him.”
Britt grabbed the blue top. “So what? I like and respect all my boy toys.”
“Yeah, for like twelve and a half seconds.” I crossed my arms, leaned back against the dressing room’s full-length mirror, and stared at her. “But it’s been a whole entire week now and you’re not acting sick of him yet.”
She yanked on the top and adjusted it. “Move over; I can’t see myself.” As soon as I shifted out of the way, she twisted and turned in front of the mirror. “He was right,” she murmured. “The blue one’s definitely better.”
“Aha! See?” I pointed an accusatory finger in her face. “Since when do you ever listen to guys for fashion advice!”
“I listen to Vivi’s brother Austin all the time. He has great taste.”
“I mean straight guys. Guys you’re actually dating.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, keeping her head down and playing with the hem of the blue top. Finally she looked up and met my gaze. The look in her eyes was almost … bashful?
“Okay, maybe you’re right,” she said softly. “I think I might actually be, you know, falling for this one. For real, I mean.” A little smile played around the corners of her mouth. “I’m even starting to wonder why I wasted my time with all those other losers.”
My jaw dropped. Literally. I stood there with my mouth hanging open, staring at my best friend. Who was suddenly acting like some complete stranger.
“For real?” I demanded, once I’d recovered enough to speak. “You’re actually doubting your man-eating ways?”
“Well, not doubting, exactly.” She squared her shoulders and gazed at herself in the mirror. “Come to think of it, it was probably fate that things happened this way. If I hadn’t kissed so many frogs, I might not have recognized a prince when I found him.”
I was stunned. It was hard to believe that this could really be Britt talking about finding her prince—and maybe actually meaning it. But she had a look in her eye I’d never seen there before, especially when she looked at Marcus. Or mentioned his name. Or thought about him. Like she was obviously doing right now as she smiled at herself in the mirror.
“Wow,” was all I could say for a second. Then I shook my head. “I’m thrilled for you, Britt. Seriously. At least this whole Planetarium Girl disaster turned out to be good for something.”
“I know, right?” she said. “But it still blows my mind that Riley can’t see that you guys are just as perfect for each other as Marcus and I are.”
“Never mind that.” I grabbed the polo, which I’d never had any intention of trying on. Boring Beige Blah just isn’t my look. “Let’s get out there so you can hang with your prince.”
“Anyone want to split a pie?” Marcus asked, stopping in front of the pizza place. It was an hour later, and we were all starving.
“Sure,” Britt said.
“Me too,” Jake agreed.
Rachel nodded. “Let’s get the large.”
The others seemed ready to join in the pizza fest, too. But Riley and I exchanged a look.
“I’ll pass,” I said. “I’m in the mood for something a little more interesting than tomato sauce and processed cheese on undercooked dough.”
Riley chuckled. “Ditto. Come on, Lauren. Th
e Japanese place here isn’t too bad. We’ll find you guys in a minute, okay?”
I saw Britt shoot me a raised eyebrow, but I ignored it. This wasn’t about romance. It was merely a matter of discernment. Riley and I left the others arguing the merits of pepperoni versus mushrooms and headed across the food court.
“It’s nice to have someone along who likes to eat something more adventurous than pizza and burgers,” Riley said as we got in line at the Japanese place, which really did have a fairly extensive menu for a mall place.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Most of my friends make a point to never eat anything more exotic than brown mustard. Britt definitely included. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m a shoo-in for the title of Weirdest Eater in Maryland.”
“Don’t be so sure,” he said jokingly. “I lived in Brazil, remember? They put peas and mashed potatoes on their hot dogs there.”
“Kid stuff,” I countered. “Last month my dad decided to make his own haggis. With all the traditional ingredients.”
He nodded slowly, the expression on his face convincing me that he must have tried the disgusting Scottish dish himself at some point in his life. “Impressive,” he said. “But have you ever tried stewed oxtail?”
“No,” I had to admit. “But I’m sure if I mention it, my parents will declare next week Jamaican food week and give it a try.”
He was still laughing when his phone buzzed. “Sorry,” he said, reaching into his pocket. When he glanced down at it, he smiled. “Oh. Megan just texted me.”
“That’s nice.” I carefully kept my voice and face neutral. Even though my good mood had just crashed and burned like the Hindenburg.
He was still reading the text. “She just wants to confirm our plans for tomorrow—she’s getting ready to hit the town with her sister.”
We were almost to the front of the line by now, standing side by side. I was trying not to glance over and read the text for myself. Trying really hard.
But what can I say? I am weak. My eyes edged over in that direction, and before I could stop myself, I was scanning the message. It was pretty much what Riley had said, except that he’d left out one part. The part where she said, Luv ya and miss ya, sweetie! at the end.
Suddenly the smells of fish and soy sauce, which had made my stomach grumble hungrily just seconds ago, started making me feel nauseated instead. Or maybe it was the terrible truth that was turning my stomach. Because as I stood there beside Riley watching him read that text from his new girlfriend, I realized something.
I couldn’t talk myself out of it. I didn’t want to be “just friends” with Riley. No, I really, really, really liked this guy. And I was pretty sure he could have liked me back. But I’d totally blown my chance. And there was nothing I could do about it now.
It was too late.
Nineteen
I was still thinking about Britt’s outfit when I headed up my front steps that evening. That is, the outfit I’d helped her pick out after our trip to the mall. For her date. With Marcus.
That’s right. The two of them had plans to catch a movie and a late dinner that night. Britt was so giddy about their first real date that she’d barely been able to think about what to wear. Luckily, I was there to step in and make sure she looked amazing in her favorite little black dress from Anthropologie and some cool sparkly high-heeled Mary Janes I’d found her at a thrift store recently.
As I opened the door, I sniffed the air, wondering what exotic epicurean delight was in store for me that evening. After all, it looked like I was going to be home for date night this weekend. I might as well know what I was getting myself into.
To my surprise all I smelled was cat food and dust. Chairman Meow was waiting to greet me by trying to dash outside as usual, but there was no sign of my parents bustling around the kitchen or setting up board games in the den. Slinging Meow over my shoulder, I headed for the steps, wondering if they were still out shopping—I hadn’t checked the garage for their cars when Britt had dropped me off.
“Anybody home?” I shouted upstairs.
“Coming!” my father’s faint voice replied.
I shrugged, shifting Meow to my other shoulder as I wandered over to the hall table to see if there was any mail for me. He purred and kneaded my back with his paws.
“Ow!” I complained, detaching him and setting him down. “Feels like somebody needs his claws clipped again.”
Yeah. It was shaping up to be a super-exciting Saturday night indeed… .
“Hello, hello. We were just wondering if you’d be home before we left,” my dad said, hurrying down the steps adjusting his tie.
His tie? Hold on. Back up. It was Saturday. And Dad’s number one rule in life was No Ties on the Weekend. Exceptions made only for weddings and funerals.
I stared at him. “Why are you so dressed up?”
He did a little twirl. “Do I look okay, oh fashion-expert daughter?”
“You look hot, oh fashion-impaired father,” I replied, still not really understanding. “But why? Since when do you dress up for date night?”
“Since we decided to take your advice,” my mother replied.
I’d been so busy staring at Dad that I hadn’t even heard her coming. Now I did a double take. She looked even more incredible than he did. She was wearing a red knit dress that showed off her trim figure, along with some chunky-heeled black pumps I’d helped her pick out and the earrings I’d given her for Christmas a year or two ago.
“Ooh la la!” I said. “But where are you going?”
“Out.” My father reached for my mother’s hand as she reached the bottom step. “Dancing.”
He twirled her. It was a little awkward, since she twisted her arm the wrong way and they had to let go and try again. But it was cute. Especially when they both giggled like a pair of middle schoolers heading off to their first school dance.
Meanwhile I was still confused. “Dancing?” I echoed. “You guys don’t go dancing. What happened to date night?”
“Actually, it was your question last weekend that got us thinking,” Dad said.
My mother nodded. “We love our usual routine. But we decided maybe once in a while it might be fun to try something different. So we’re taking your advice and going out dancing tonight.”
I was stunned. My advice? Was that what it had been? In any case, I never would have expected this of my parents. Then again, who could have guessed they’d look so snazzy all gussied up, either?
“Wow,” was all I could say as I grabbed Meow before he could sink his claws into Mom’s stockings.
After my parents left, I heated up some leftover couscous and carried it into the den to eat in front of the TV. I scrolled through the recorded programs on the DVR, but for some reason nothing appealed to me. I ended up leaving the TV tuned to the Weather Channel just for company.
“This is weird,” I said to Meow, who was sitting on the arm of the couch staring intently at my food. “Usually it’s me going out somewhere fun on Saturday night while Mom and Dad stay here.”
I took a bite and chewed slowly, pondering that. First Britt, now my parents, even Riley with his seemingly hopeless quest for Planetarium Girl … it seemed everyone I knew was turning their lives—or at least their love lives—upside down. So what about me? Did I dare try to follow their lead?
I thought about how great it had felt hanging out with Riley yesterday. And then how terrible it had felt knowing I’d missed my chance to really give things a try with him.
Or had I? Suddenly a plan popped into my head, one worthy of Britt’s nuttiest moments. I dropped my fork and thought about it, turning it over in my head. It was so crazy it just might work … or would it?
I supposed it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if I’d have the guts to try… .
Just then I noticed my sketch pad lying on the chair where I’d left it that morning. It was open to a recent design, an awesome gown with totally daring cutouts in the bodice and a funky hemline. The kind of outfit that would l
ook amazing strutting down the runway—at least in my own humble opinion—but that I’d never in a million years have the guts to wear myself.
Or would I? Maybe if I thought I could ever really be the fashion designer I was in my dreams, I needed to start proving I had it in me to put myself out there. And I wasn’t thinking about wearing some cutting-edge prom dress to school. No, I had something completely different in mind.
The cat let out a soft yowl and stretched one paw toward my food. I just stared at him. Even Chairman Meow was willing to fling himself out into the wide world without a thought of how he was going to get home again… .
I smiled as I recalled Riley cradling the crazy cat in his arms after the last escape. And thinking of Riley, remembering him that way, made me realize I had to try. After all, if he could put himself out there to find me—or her, or whoever—I should at least be willing to risk a little embarrassment to meet him halfway.
I took a deep breath as I stared up at the imposing, blocky façade of the Air and Space Museum. It was the next day, just a few minutes before noon. I’d hopped on the Metro early and spent the extra time wandering around the Mall fighting my jangling nerves and wondering if I could really do this.
But now that I was here, I felt ready for whatever was about to happen. Or at least resigned to giving it my best shot and seeing what came of it. Entering the museum, I headed upstairs immediately.
Riley was leaning against the wall near the top of the escalator. He was looking at his watch, which allowed me to get pretty close before he noticed I was there.
When he finally did look up, his eyes widened in surprise. But I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I had to spit this out before I lost my nerve.
“We really have to stop meeting like this.”
Twenty
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Riley blurted out, clearly startled. He took another look at his watch. “Megan will be here any minute.”
At First Sight Page 13