Rosa swerves into the oncoming traffic and semi-truck almost smacks into us. I flinch and lean toward the window. The truck driver lays on his horn and Rosa gives him a nasty look and flicks him off. “Up yours asshole!” She’s the worst driver ever and that’s why most of the time either I drive or she meets me whenever we make plans.
She looks at me incredulously. “Do you believe that guy?”
I don’t answer. I just shake my head.
After I’ve escaped death twice today, with Rosa’s bad driving and road rage, she adds three to that equation when she cuts in front of a mini-van and steals their parking spot. “Oops,” she says to the angry woman as she exits the driver’s side.
“You saw me waiting for that!” the woman shouts.
Rosa furrows her brow and wears a fake apologetic smile. “No, I didn’t, sorry.”
I wait until we get to the entrance before I start laughing. “You’re hilarious. You know that?”
Her mouth hangs open. “What?” She shakes her head. “Don’t even start. You know I’m going to start a petition where once you reach a certain age; you have to re-take your driver’s test. Those old farts can’t drive worth a damn!”
I nod, but what I really want to tell her is neither can you. Whichever instructor rode with her on that fateful day of her driving exam, well, I sure as hell hope somebody canned them already.
Upon stepping through the entrance, we’re instantly pushing and shoving our way through a crowd. Somebody steps on my toes and I turn to the side and get elbowed in the gut. By the time I make it through the mass of bodies I feel like I’ve been trampled on by a herd of cattle.
Rosa stands off to the side with her arms folded across her chest and she’s tapping her foot impatiently. My eye brows go up. “How did you get through that so fast?”
We start walking and she shrugs. “I pushed them back. When you start getting physical people move.”
She’s so brash. Sometime I wish I could be like that. “So where do you want to go, first?”
“Forever.” Meaning Forever 21.
“Cool. I’m down with that.”
The brightness of the white walls, white floors, and spotlights stun my eyes as we walk through the entrance of Forever 21. It’s a haven for teenage girls and the modern, yet contemporary store is filled with them. Squealing. Chatting. Gossiping. Holding up shirts and asking each other’s opinions. A super tan brunette holds up a purple halter. “Do you think this will look cute on me?”
Her friend tsks, “Of course, Jessica, totally.”
Music blares from the hanging over head speakers. A techno version of Baby One More Time. I turn to Rosa. “I’m gonna go check out the accessories.”
“Cool. I’ll be in the back, skimming the sale rack.”
The accessories are majorly picked over and I browse through the rack of belts looking for a studded one to go with the jeans I plan on buying. Nothing catches my eye. Maybe Buckle will have some?
I sift through the bin of headbands and I feel like someone’s watching me. I lift my eyes slowly and see the blurry outline of a body in the mirror. I spin around and almost smack into Rosa. “Holy shit!” I exhale and the mountain of clothes in her arms fall to the floor.
“Geez!” she snaps. “Holy hell in a hand basket, what’s wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry,” I gush as I lean down to pick up her clothes. “I had this creepy feeling like someone was watching me.”
She leans down and helps. “There are tons of people in the store. You need to chill. It was probably just someone looking at clothes behind you or something.”
“You’re right.”
She looks at my empty hands. “You didn’t find anything?”
“No. All of the belts are picked over. Looks like you did, though.”
“Dude. The sale rack is like a smorgasbord of fashion fantasticness. Now come on. I’ll try on the clothes and you can tell me if they look okay.” I open my mouth to protest, but she doesn’t let me get a word out. “Oh no, you’re going to suffer through this whole girl to girl shopping experience with me. This is the only store I want to go to. Then we can go to Hollister or wherever it is you want to go, deal?”
I sigh, defeated. “Deal.”
Outside the dressing room, Rosa leaves a huge pile of clothes in my arms. “I can only take in six at a time.”
“You better hurry,” I say impatiently as I sit down on a round pleather ottoman.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” Then she dashes off and whips through the curtain in the last open fitting room.
“Having fun?” I hear him. I’d know his voice anywhere. Henry. He’s also got a stack of clothes in his arms and I bust out laughing.
“I should be asking you that.”
“Well if you were, the answer would be no.”
“How long have you been in here?”
An eye roll. “Too long.”
“Was that you who was watching me?”
A seductive smirk. “Maybe.”
I touch a frilly hot pink top in his pile and hold it up to his bronzed arm. “Yeah Henry, hot pink isn’t your color.”
He shakes his head. “Very funny.”
“Ro!” I shout. “How’s it going in there?”
“Meh!”
I guess that means not so good.
Henry’s staring at me. I feel his eyes on me and butterflies bounce around inside of me. I turn toward him, beaming. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m just looking at you. Do you have a problem with that?”
“You’re not just looking, you’re gawking.”
He laughs and Rosa shouts, “Can you bring my next six?”
“Hey!” I snap. “I didn’t sign up to be your servant!”
“Just bring me the clothes,” she groans.
I stand outside of her dressing room and hand her the next six items. She stacks the three of the six she already has in my arms when I hear a high-pitched voice. “How does this look, babe?” His girlfriend.
Then Henry’s reply, “Good, babe. It looks good.”
I’m clenching my teeth. I don’t why their interaction bothers me so much, but it does.
I’m frozen in my spot staring blankly ahead. “Okay,” Rosa says. I don’t move. The reflection of the lights in the mirror is fuzzy and that’s all I’m focused on. “Ry?”
I can’t hear her. My heart stops beating. Her voice is fading. All I hear is, “Good, babe. It looks real good.”
“RILEY!” Rosa shouts so loud that the chandelier hanging above us shakes.
Several pairs of eyes turn toward us and I’m embarrassed. “Do you always have to be so loud,” I comment.
“When I’m talking to you and you’re not paying attention—which is ninety five percent of the time lately, yes I do.”
“I pay attention to you.”
“Really? Then why did it take me like five minutes to get your attention.”
“I just have a lot on my mind, okay. Give me the rest of your clothes.”
“I did. You’re holding them.”
I look down at my arms. “OH.” Then I look over at the ottoman and Henry is gone.
My heart sinks. “Come back,” I whisper.
Stay with me. Love me.
“What?” Rosa asks from inside the fitting room.
“Nothing, Rosa. I was just talking to myself.”
I return to the ottoman and sit down. Then I glance around the store to see if maybe Henry is still here. I’m paralyzed. They are in the front of the store and Henry is fetching a top from a really high rack for her.
My cheeks are hot. My veins are pulsing. Is this what jealousy feels like? I don’t like it. I’m staring at the floor, my vision blurring around the white tiles. I’m perplexed. Henry. Henry. Henry. He’s filling up every part of my subconscious mind.
A set of feet come into my view and I look up. Rosa comes into view. She’s wearing a floral dress that’s adorned with a matching tan belt. She spins
around, clutching the edge of the dress like a silent film star. “Well, what do you think?”
I’m detached. I can’t fully focus. “It looks great.”
“I think so, too,” she says excitedly.
Our conversation is interrupted with, “Well, well.” A high-pitched feminine voice. A voice I know all too well. Callie Banfield, Henry’s girlfriend. I meet her gaze and she sneers at me. “It, don’t you know this a girls store? You don’t belong here.”
I narrow my eyes and scowl. I open my mouth to answer, but Rosa beats me to it. “Bitchzilla, don’t you have a village to terrorize or something?”
Callie scowls and shakes her head. Henry comes up behind her and hands her a few tank tops. She stomps into the dressing room with a huff and Henry sits down next to me. I look away.
“Ry?” There’s a gentleness in Rosa’s tone and I know she’s wondering if I’m okay.
I glance at her. She makes a silly face and I smile. Then she motions to her body. “So is this dress a yay, then?”
“Definitely.”
“Cool. I’ll be out with the next in a few.” She turns her back to me.
“Ugh.” I hope she doesn’t hear my distasteful groan. I’m so over this shopping trip. She doesn’t hear me. She slides back into her fitting room, with a gleeful sashay.
The cushion on the ottoman dips down as Henry scoots closer. Hidden by the piles of clothes in our hands, he laces his fingers through mine. His touch shocks me. A surge travels through my body and jumpstarts my heart.
And my heart stops again when I pull my hand away.
Henry leans closer, whispering into my hair, “Why did you do that?”
“Because,” I say in a low voice. What I don’t say is because I’m tired of being your dirty, little secret. Inside, I’m a piece of loose-leaf paper and he’s stuffing me into the shredder. I’m slivers of white falling into a trashcan. “She’s in the dressing room.”
He shrugs. “So. She can’t see. We have all these clothes in our laps.”
But I want her to see. “Just don’t.” My voice is cold and harsh. He looks at me, baffled.
He furrows his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”
Again another cold yet short response. “Nothing.”
I’m not a sideshow affair. I’m not a secret locked in a dark closet. I’m a person. I have feelings. I matter. Does he even care how I feel?
“Riley,” he murmurs. Just the sound of him uttering my name tortures me. All of the mixed emotions I’m feeling fight for the other one to be precedent. Love is the front runner, jealousy is second, and anger is coming up third ready pass up jealousy.
“Just stop, Henry.”
I can’t look at him. My eyes are watering and as I focus on the floor, tears free fall making tiny dots of wetness on the white tiles.
“Ry.” He touches my hair. So soft. So gentle.
“Henry!” Callie snaps.
Henry yanks his hand away from my hair. “Yeah, babe.”
Babe. Babe. Such a cute pet name. A pet name that he’ll never say to me. I can’t breathe. And I swear that my organs are shutting down.
I hate myself for loving him. I hate myself for being charmed by his beautiful smile. Hate. Hate. Hate. You’re a fool, I think. And you deserve to feel the way you do.
I know that’s harsh. To completely blame myself when this is just as much Henry’s fault as it is mine, but then I think if I wouldn’t have been such a weak person this would have never happened.
If I would have only just said hi the day I met him. I wouldn’t have let myself fall in love with him. The truth is, I’ve been crushing on Henry since the third grade.
Even as a nine year old there was something gallant about him. He’d stand up for other kids on the playground. Be friendly with everyone. He was selfless.
One time in particular, I remembered him snapping at T.J Johnson when he pushed Matt Fischer into a chain linked fence.
When I was younger I was ten times quieter than I am now. But, every now and then, I’d see Henry and he’d flash me his brilliant smile and I’d end up blushing.
I’m gritting my teeth when I look up.
Callie glances between Henry and me. “What are you doing, Henry? Why are you touching her hair?”
I narrow my eyes at Henry. I’m wondering if he’s going to tell her the truth.
He forces his words out. “She had something in her hair.”
Coward. Coward. COWARD!
I stand and walk into an empty fitting room. I don’t want to fall apart in front of him. Well, it’s not necessarily because of him. I don’t want to cause a scene and I know if I stay out there any longer I will. Inside, I’m an abandoned building, smashed by a wrecking ball. Hunks of my concrete walls crash into the ground and separate into smaller pieces. All that’s left of me is particles lingering in the air. I’m dust.
“Ro?” My voice cracks and I swallow hard, trying to conceal my emotion.
“Hey, you!” She’s always so bubbly and happy. It’s one of the reasons why I love her. “You decide to try something on?”
“Yeah.” Another quiver of my vocal chords.
“I can’t wait to see how you look in it,” she tells me.
Only she never will, because the only reason I came into the dressing room in the first place was to ball my eyes out into the t-shirt I’m holding.
Chapter 5
“When love is not madness, it is not love.” ~ Pedro Calderon de la Barca ~
I think I’m starting to lose it. My mind. Like One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest style.
I’m not sure if I can do this whole casual thing with Henry. I’ve got to end it. Ever since we left the mall, he’s all I’ve thought about, and hearing him talk to her has made it even worse.
Callie will be there—in school. Up until now, every time I’ve seen Henry he hasn’t been with her, like at the same time with her. She was at the party the other night, but I didn’t see them together. I didn’t hear the way he talks to her. But I did today. And I didn’t like it.
I’m not a jealous person. I’m not, I swear, but this fling with Henry is making me think things I normally wouldn’t think and do things I normally wouldn’t do.
On the way home from the mall, Rosa drives through a rural neighborhood. There’s a man outside mowing the lawn. I close my eyes and hear the lawnmower buzzing in my mind. The blades twirl in a circular motion as it cuts, slices, and mauls the grass. Then I see Henry so vividly in my mind. He was doing the exact thing the first time I met him and the flashback plays out like a movie in my head.
I see his radiant smile, the dimples in his cheeks, his tan skin with beads of sweat skimming down his chest. I sigh and close my eyes. That hot pre-summer day in May changed my relationship with Henry Garner forever. Why did he have to talk to me? Why couldn’t he have just kept cutting his damn grass and left me alone?
I’m so caught up in my memories of Henry Garner that I almost miss my phone ringing. It rings out the toll of the bells and buzzes. It buzzes right off my nightstand onto the floor. It’s Henry. I want to see him. I need to see him. Somehow I feel like tonight will be our last liason. Our last entanglement. I am going to end this tonight.
I answer the call. “Hello.”
“Hey,” he says. There’s amusement in his voice.
“What’s up?”
“Can I pick you up?”
I glance at the clock. It’s eight. I might be able to swing this if I tell my Mom I’m going to Rosa’s. “Yeah, but hurry. My mom isn’t going to let me stay out real long.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I’m downstairs in a flash. Mom is at the computer in her office. She absorbed in this dating website she recently joined. “Five foot three?” There’s a hike in her voice. “No. No. That’s way too short.”
“Mom?” I hang through the door.
“Hi Riley. Do you need something?”
“I’m going over to Rosa’s for a little bit. I’l
l be home in an hour.”
She waves me off. “Have fun. Don’t be too late.” As I walk out the front door, I hear her mumble, “Investment banker, how nice.”
It’s humid out. The wisps of hair on the nape of my neck moisten and start curling. I’ve been waiting five minutes. Every second that passes feels like a year. Has it been ten minutes, yet? Has it?
I feel a thrill—excitement—a rush of adrenaline. Mostly I feel like Juliet, sneaking out in the dead of the night for a secret rendezvous with her beloved Romeo. We’re a lot like Romeo and Juliet, Henry and I. We’re a Shakespearean tragedy.
My Romeo pulls into the driveway, and I’m off the porch running to meet him. To crash into his arms like a car into a telephone pole, every bit and piece of me wrapping around him until he comes plummeting down on top of me.
He gets out of the car and opens the passenger side door. “What a gentleman,” I joke.
He Loves Me...He Loves You Not Page 3