by Jamie Howard
I lie back on the floor, and thump my head against it. “He was out on a date last night.”
She cocks her head at me. “So, you’re wondering if maybe he’s dating this girl now and aren’t sure whether he’s interested in you, yeah?”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s simple. Next time you see him, just ask him how it went. If things are going well, they’re seeing each other again, maybe you let that play itself out. Or, maybe things didn’t go well and you should just lay all your cards on the table.” She shrugs. “Then again, he just met this girl the one time and he’s known you for months, so if you really like him, just tell him either way.”
I prop myself up on my elbows, digesting her words. It was one date. One date. It’s not like he fell in love with her over dinner. I hope. Regardless of what happened, I still have a chance. If I want it. I do want it, right?
Yes, I want it.
I want Kyle. The idea of it, us, feels so … right.
I roll over onto my stomach and then push myself to my feet. “Alright, I’ll tell him. It’s settled.” The thought of it makes the breath rush out of my chest, but I’m going to have to get over it and strap on my big-girl panties. I reach for the vacuum.
Tara levels a finger at me. “No. No vacuuming. I’m going back to bed and you are not allowed to use any type of loud appliances. No vacuum, no blender, nada.”
“Fine.” I’ll just need to find something else to occupy my mind for the next … forty-eight hours. Crap.
Standing up, Tara leans up onto the balls of her feet and stretches. Her gaze travels over the apartment, her eyes narrowing. “How long have you been up?”
I shrug. “A while.”
“Seriously, relax. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Do some yoga or something. Or take a nice bubble bath with some candles, bath salts, and some Enya.” She backs slowly into her room. “But just do it quietly.” She presses her pointer finger to her lips in the universal shush symbol.
* * *
Three hours later, I’ve taken a bath, deep-conditioned my hair, cleaned out the refrigerator, sorted the bills, painted my nails, and reorganized my closet by season and then by color. Nothing is taking up nearly enough time. And for every second that I don’t keep my brain occupied, it reverts to conjuring up all the worst possible reactions from my confession to Kyle.
I haven’t been this nervous since the first time Luke asked me out. He stopped me after the business class we were taking together, and I was sure all he wanted was to borrow my notes or something. When he asked me out, my jaw nearly hit the ground. The epic cleaning spree that erupted prior to that date rivals my frenzy this morning.
Although, thinking of Luke makes me remember about another event I’m dreading, maybe even more than my conversation with Kyle—Blaire’s wedding. Rifling through my closet this morning has only reminded me that I have absolutely nothing to wear. The only thing even close is the pink dress I wore to their engagement party, and after Sloane dubbed me the Bubblegum Princess in it, I’m not sure why I haven’t burned the thing.
I snap my fingers. That’s it. Shopping. It’s going to take me forever to find something to wear, and it’s going to be physically painful to hand over my debit card to pay for it. But, on a day where my mind is completely overrun, maybe it won’t hurt as bad. Plus, it’ll suck up almost an entire day.
I throw on an outfit, and I’m just tying my shoes when my phone lets out a chirp.
Kyle: Hey there. What’re you up to?
My heart does a curious little fluttering thing that I’m not at all used to.
Me: Just getting ready to head to the mall. Gotta do some shopping.
His next text comes through a second later.
Kyle: Want some company?
Excitement hits me first, followed immediately by panic. My thought process goes something like this:
Oh my God, if I see Kyle, then I can tell him today!
But, but, then I’d have to tell him today!
Holy crap, what am I going to say?
My mind continues to flail while I make plans to meet Kyle at the mall, never settling, just hopping from one thought to the next like an agile grasshopper. The answer’s so obvious that it nearly smacks me in the face. Of course, the wedding. I’ll ask him about his date, see how it went, and then I can ask him to go to Blaire’s wedding with me—as my date.
* * *
The hanger screeches as Kyle shoves it to the side. “Is there anything specific I’m looking for? ‘Dress’ is a pretty board descriptor.”
I peek at him over the rack. “Just nothing pink.”
His eyebrows lift in question, but he leaves it at that. “Umm…” He clears his throat. “I don’t know … I mean, I’m not sure what size you are.”
I shift the dresses I’ve already collected to my other arm. “How about you hold these for me, and I’ll look.”
“Right. That’s probably a better plan.”
After transferring the dresses over to him, I shake out my arms. Man those things are heavy. It takes another fifteen minutes to make one lap around the store, and Kyle valiantly totes around a ton of dresses for me, holding the hangers up over his head so the ends don’t trail on the ground. He’s super relaxed this afternoon and a smile’s taken up permanent residence on his face. The sight of it makes my stomach clench, and every time I see it I can’t help wondering if the girl from his date last night is the reason it’s there.
Okay, I’m officially jealous.
Slipping into a dressing room, I kick off my sneakers and wiggle out of my clothes. The first dress is a pretty shade of green, but requires more boobage than I have to hold it up. The second is lavender and looked great on the rack. Not so wonderful on me though. Off that one goes.
“So, uh, what’s the dress for?” Kyle asks from his perch on the small couch outside the room.
Oh, right, I didn’t even tell him. Mainly because I wanted to work the conversation around to his date first. But every time I think about bringing it up, I chicken out. So far we’ve skirted around last night entirely.
“My ex–best friend is getting married in three weeks and I have to go to her wedding.”
“Ex–best friend?”
The next dress gets stuck over my head and it feels like I’m suffocating in layers of satin. My butt bumps up against the door as I try to yank it back off, making the lock rattle. When it finally snaps free, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—flushed face, slightly sweaty, and with my hair shooting up in about a thousand different directions.
“Long story short? My ex–best friend is sisters with my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend.” I whip my hair up into a ponytail, and instantly get some relief as the cool air brushes across the back of my neck. These dressing rooms are always stifling.
“That sounds … complicated.”
“It is.” My next attempt is this gorgeous red dress that I picked up on a whim. It’s bold and attention-grabbing, and something I never would have even considered wearing when I was dating Luke. Which is exactly the reason I’m trying it on now.
Holding it in place, I scoot out of the dressing room and give Kyle my back. “I can’t quite get the zipper up on this one. Would you mind?”
“Yeah, sure.” His fingers brush across the bottom of my shoulder blade as he pulls the fabric together and gives the zipper a tug. “There you go.”
I turn, readjusting the top and kicking out the extra length on the bottom. I’d definitely need to wear heels, and might need to get it altered anyway. There goes another chunk of change.
“What do you think?”
Kyle takes a step back and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Wow. That’s … wow.”
When it comes to commenting on appearances, with guys, less usually means more.
Rotating back to the mirror, I angle myself left and right to get a better look at it. Dark red beads outline the sweetheart neckline, and flowy chiffon fabric drifts out from a center poi
nt right underneath my chest. It’s beautifully simplistic, but completely classy and elegant. The color is a little out of my comfort zone, but I love it. I’m not even trying on any more dresses, I’m buying this one. If me showing up at Blaire’s wedding isn’t a statement in and of itself, this dress certainly is.
I glance at Kyle in the mirror. “I think this one’s a keeper.”
“Already?” He glances down at his watch. “We’ve only been here like half an hour. That’s gotta be a new record or something.”
I bite my lip to keep my smile from spreading out of control. “You do a lot of dress shopping?”
He rolls his eyes. “I went shopping for a dress with Teresa last year for Homecoming. I swear we not only visited every store in this mall, we went to some of them twice. By the time I got home I thought my feet were going to fall off.”
“Well, if you help me out of this, we can get out of here. I won’t even torture you with shoes.”
“You’re so sweet.” He grins at me and our gazes catch in the mirror.
Wait, are we flirting a little?
His fingers trail down my back, sending a shiver skating down my spine. But before he undoes the zipper he asks, “Are you taking Bryce with you to the wedding?”
I’m still looking at his reflection, but his eyes have dropped to study my shoulder. “No, I don’t think things with us are going to work out.” I lift one shoulder in a half shrug and take a deep breath. “I was actually kinda wondering if you might want to go with me?”
His eyes bounce back up to me with a smile in them. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d really like that.”
“Me too.”
Crap. I just ruined my own plan. Can we rewind the past couple of minutes so I can adjust my question to him? As my date. Three words. How hard is that to remember? And I can’t say anything now because then I’ll just look like an idiot. I mean, maybe he’s only agreeing because we’re friends. And I’ve already done a family function with him, so maybe this is a quid pro quo thing.
“Haley?”
“Hm?”
“I said, you’re all good here. With the zipper.”
“Right.” I turn and smile up at him. “I’ll just go change then.”
Once the door’s closed, I lean back against it and close my eyes. The plan consisted of two things—find out how Kyle’s date went and ask him to go with me as my date to the wedding. So far I’ve accomplished less than half of what I set out to. High-five, Haley.
“Hey, Haley? Is this a fancy wedding? I mean, going by your dress I’m gonna say yes, and since we’re here, I was thinking I could pick up a new pair of dress pants for my suit? The last ones kinda got eaten by the washing machine. Unless you’re in a rush? I mean, whatever works for you.”
I pinch my lips together to keep from laughing. That boy really knows how to ramble when he gets worked up. Although, I’m not entirely sure what’s causing the spike in his anxiety at this particular moment. “Yeah, I’ve got time. No rush.”
“Alright, I’ll just grab a few to try on then. I’ll be right back.”
By the time I step out of the dressing room with my dress in hand, Kyle’s back with a handful of dress pants. As the door closes behind him, I take a seat on the couch, and then immediately rock up onto my hip to fish out whatever I just sat on—a phone.
Kyle’s phone, maybe? I sit it down on the cushion next to me.
“So, how’d everything go last night? Was the restaurant at least good?” Kyle’s voice echoes around the room. The top of his hair is barely visible over the door.
The mention of last night makes me squirm a little, but it’s actually kind of good news. He’s redirected the conversation right where I wanted it to go. “Yeah, the food was pretty amazing. How did…”
The phone vibrates next to me and I glance at it. A message pops up on the screen.
Kerry: So, you forgot your jacket with me last night. I’m proposing a trade: one Trojan and your services for the safe return of your apparel. Call me.
“What’d you say?” Kyle calls out.
I can’t stop staring at the screen, but my mouth moves anyway. “I was wondering how your date went last night.”
Not that I really need to know now. That text message can only mean one thing really.
“It was alright, I guess,” he says. “We probably won’t go out again.”
It was alright? That’s not quite how I’d describe a date that ended with a text message like that. The entire time I’ve known Kyle I’ve pegged him as funny, smart, sweet, shy. But, maybe it’s just a front, a way to lure girls in, before he sleeps with them and never speaks to them again. Maybe he’s not the guy I think he is, and that hits a little too close to home, poking at wounds that aren’t even close to healed.
Grabbing the phone, I place it on the floor and nudge it forward with my toe. “Oh, hey. Is this your phone?”
The door flies open and Kyle comes barreling out, his pants unzipped and slipping off. His hands pat frantically at his pockets and his face drains of all color. He stoops down to grab it and releases a breath, not even checking it. “Yeah, this is mine.”
A second ago I would have found his reaction really bizarre, but at the moment I’m just wondering what else he’s hiding on that phone. How many other similar messages might be stored there that he’s worried about me seeing? I mean, what other reason would he have for freaking out about his phone like that?
Chapter 22
Kyle
My heart hasn’t slowed down since Haley said, “Is this your phone?” I nearly ran through the damn dressing-room door trying to get out there and stop her from looking at it. Bending over, I rest my hands on my knees and try to breathe. It wasn’t the Clark phone, which is exactly what I thought had happened. Luckily, that one’s tucked safely in my other pocket.
I almost ruined everything. I can’t stop carrying the phone, it’s for work, but I need to do something about the whole Haley thing. After last night my options are down to one: I need to break things off with her as Clark, get my number changed, and hope with everything I have that she never, ever finds out. I stayed up half the night coming to that decision and I feel sick to my stomach about it. The feeling is almost eclipsed by the hum of excitement that’s been buzzing through me since I realized that Haley and I are finally going to get our chance. Finally.
My fingers shake as I try and button my pants. This last one is the best fit, and after sliding them down my hips, I get dressed and head back out toward Haley. She smiles at me, but it sits tightly on her face, like someone’s holding it in place with thumbtacks.
After we pay, we step out of the store into the hubbub of the mall. People swarm in every direction—weighed down by bags, weaving strollers in and out of the crowd, bumping elbows. The smell of pretzels wafts toward me and my stomach gives a groan.
“You hungry?” I ask, nudging her with my elbow.
She shrugs. “I could eat. If you want.”
Okay, well that was an enthusiastic response. Not. “C’mon, let’s get some ice cream.”
We walk to the food court in silence. Somehow in the past ten minutes things have gotten weird. I can’t for the life of me figure out why though. It’s not like I came today expecting Haley to profess her undying love for me, but a small part of me might have been hoping she’d tell me how she’s feeling. And I’m not entirely sure that she didn’t with the whole wedding-invitation thing.
The food court is mobbed, so we split up. Haley takes our things and heads off to find us a table while I go and get us some ice cream—chocolate mint chip for her, cookie dough for me. It takes me a little bit to search her out after I pay for everything, but I eventually find her over in front of the Japanese place.
“Here you go.” I slide her ice cream over to her, the spoon sticking out of the top like a flagpole.
“Thanks.”
I bounce my knee up and down, but my shoe keeps connecting with something sticky on the floor, m
aking this irritating noise. So I have to stop and reroute my nervous tic. I settle for fidgeting with my spoon, spinning it round and round between my fingers. “My mom was asking about you the other day. Wondering if you might be coming over again.”
“Oh yeah?” Haley spoons up some ice cream, keeping her eyes on her dish. “I thought you were telling her I dumped you or something?”
Wait, what?
I tap the end of my spoon against the table. “I … can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Her eyes find mine as she waits for the question.
Even being privy to Haley’s conversation with Clark last night, I still need to summon up a huge amount of courage to actually get the question out of my mouth. “This wedding thing. Were you asking me to go with you as your date or just as friends?”
My heart slams so hard into my rib cage I’m sure it’s visible through my shirt.
She purses her lips and a hand drifts up to run over her hair. “As friends. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Heat floods my cheeks and I can’t convince my eyes to look at anything other than the chunk of cookie dough I’m unearthing with my spoon.
“I figured I helped you out with your family thing, you might help me out with mine. It’s not a big deal, right?”
“No, not at all.” The words almost choke me on the way out. What’s going on? I don’t get it. Is this wedding a test? Is she inviting me to take us as a couple on a dry run? That strangely makes me a feel a little better, and my smile eases on my face. “I’m just glad you asked me. It sounds like a crazy situation, and not a really good one. I’m glad I can be there for you.”
A frown puckers her brow, drawing her eyebrows together. She gives her head a shake and it’s gone. “Well, thanks. I really do appreciate it.”
“Any time.”
Haley glances behind her, her ponytail swishing over her shoulder. She sticks a last heaping spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, flipping the spoon upside down so she can lick it clean. “I have to run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Wiping my napkin across my mouth, I retrieve my phone from my pocket when it buzzes. I’ve got one text from Brian checking in on our game tomorrow, and another from Kerry … shit. My gaze darts around the room, looking for Haley. Did she see this? Holy crap. This whole time I was worried she got ahold of my work phone. I never thought my regular phone would do almost as much damage.