If I Was Your Girl (19 page)

“Let's get something to eat,” I announced as we passed through the food court.

“Okay,” Layla said grudgingly, “but don't overdo it. And nothing salty! If you get all bloated the dresses won't fit right and you'll end up looking frumpy at homecoming.”

“Say it ain't so,” Chloe said, pulling out a chair next to me.

“I've been waiting eight years to get you in a dress,” Layla said, locking her gaze on Chloe determinedly. “You're in
my
world now.”

“Whatever,” Chloe replied. “I want Taco Bell.”

“I said no salt!” Layla yelled, hurrying after her as she left to get our food.

“You okay?” Anna chirped as she sat across from me.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, taking two deep breaths and forcing a smile. This was the first time I had been in a mall since that day in the bathroom, and I was trying not to think about it. “I'm really excited, actually.” It wasn't a lie,
really
; I was with my girlfriends, shopping for a dress for an actual dance with my actual boyfriend. I had been excited all the way there, and I would probably be excited again once we were in the store. “You?”

“A little nervous,” she said, twisting her fingers in her shimmering curtain of hair and pinching her mouth in worry.

“Your parents?”

“Yeah,” Anna said. “I've been skipping lunch for a year, saving the money they give me without them knowing. I feel really bad for lying.”

I wanted to say,
Your parents are jerks and they don't deserve you
, but what I said instead was, “You're practically eighteen, and it's just a dress.”

“It's not, though. You should hear what they say about Layla for wearing clothes that, like, show her
collarbones.
” Anna buried her face in her hands and groaned. “This is a mistake. What if they find the dress before homecoming?”

“It's not a mistake,” I said. “It's your life and it's your body. Dress it however you want.” I caught Chloe coming back with a bag of tacos, Layla following with her shoulders sagging in defeat, and smiled. “And you can keep the dress at my apartment until homecoming.”

“Thank you,” Anna said with a grateful smile.

“It is literally the least I could do,” I said before Chloe and Layla sat down and three out of the four of us dug into our delicious sodium-filled tacos.

*   *   *

“Okay, listen,” Layla said, pulling us into a huddle in the middle of the women's section. “This is a
huge
oversimplification but, no offense, I'm starting from square one with you guys. Amanda is a spring, Chloe is an autumn, and Anna, you're a summer.”

“I'm also a Scorpio!” I said, giving her a cheesy grin.

“Don't sass me,” Layla said, but then paused and added, “Wait, really? Your birthday must be soon.”

“You guys know astrology's a form of witchcraft, right?” Anna said, frowning.

“Anna,” Layla said, “I love you, but
shush
.” She closed her eyes, took a breath, and resumed. “Chloe, the words I want you to keep in mind are ‘earth tones.' Stick to greens and browns. You can maybe get away with a blue or a red, but it has to be really muted.”

“You can mute colors?” Chloe said.

Layla sighed and turned her attention to Anna next. “Anna, I want you to bring me anything in sort of a light purple—lavender, fuchsia, mauve, you get the idea.” Anna nodded seriously and strode off on her tiny legs to begin her quest. “And Amanda, you're looking for jewel tones and sunset colors. Deep sunset colors. Does that make sense?”

“Got it, Coach!” I barked before turning and jogging off into the racks.

“What did I say about sass?” she called after me.

Ten minutes later I arrived at the dressing rooms with a half dozen options draped over my arm. Chloe shuffled out of one of the stalls looking miserable, swapping a pile of brown and green dresses for another dozen.

I entered a stall adjacent to Chloe's. She just groaned. I stuck my tongue out at an orange dress that had seemed promising on the rack but made me look like a traffic cone.

We were quiet for a moment, me intent on what I was doing and Chloe probably wishing it were spring so she could wear a softball uniform instead. Then she said, “Where were you last weekend? We missed you.”

“Last weekend?” I said, my voice cracking a little. I froze in the middle of picking up my last hope—a purple dress with a dramatic cowl neck. “A friend from Atlanta came into town and we hung out…” I paused. I didn't want to lie to her. “With Bee.”

“Oh,” Chloe said flatly. The purple dress was gorgeous, but somehow I didn't feel as excited anymore.

“Chloe—” I began, but she cut me short.

“Don't,” she said. “It's fine.”

“Chloe, wait,” I said as I hurriedly put the dresses back on their hangers and left the dressing room. “I'm Bee's friend too—I have been since before I knew you two were a thing.”

“Whatever,” Chloe said, emerging from her dressing room. “She likes you, you know.”

“What?” I said. “We're friends.”

“As more than friends,” Chloe said flatly.

“C'mon, Chloe,” I said, shaking my head. “She knows I'm straight.”

“I've had crushes on straight girls,” Chloe mumbled, her voice low enough that it was hard to hear.

“Just … no,” I said, shaking my head to dispel the thought. “We're
just
friends, Chloe. And we were just hanging out. It didn't occur to me it would hurt you at the time,” I said.

“Well, it did.” She looked so lonely all of a sudden, standing there under the fluorescent light, next to that pile of rumpled dresses. I moved toward her, wanting to hug her but unsure if she would let me, when Layla rounded the corner, hangers dangling from her hands.

“Whoa!” she cried, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the mirror, taking in the purple dress. “Spin,” she ordered, and I obliged.

“Does the cowl neck make my shoulders look too big?” I asked as I came to a stop. I gazed at my profile in the mirror, grateful to have somewhere to look other than Chloe's hurt gaze.

“No, it
minimizes
the shoulders,” Layla said with an eye-roll, but she was smiling. “Honestly, it's like starting from scratch with you two. I ought to teach a class called ‘How to Be a Girl.'” She grabbed my discarded dresses to return them, and Chloe retreated back into her dressing room.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, Layla's words ringing in my ears. I had never been good at being a boy, and I didn't enjoy it very much, but there were parts to it that made a certain kind of sense—when boys were angry, they showed it with their fists, and then it was done. With girls, I knew, it was different. I had hurt Chloe without even realizing it, and unlike a bruise, it would take more than a few days to go away.

 

24

“Happy birthday!” Layla grinned and waved from the booth she shared with Chloe a few days later.

“Thanks,” I said as I sat down next to Chloe. She offered me a small smile. We still hadn't talked much since our fight in the dressing room, but it felt like the hurt was fading. Eventually, I hoped, there would be no sign it had been there at all.

“So how's it feel being eighteen?” Anna asked. I froze, remembering that they didn't know about my year off. I'd already been eighteen a year, but there was no way to explain the truth. It was strange to have such normal friendships for the first time, but still have so many secrets.

“Yeah,” Layla said. “Have you bought cigarettes yet?”

“I don't smoke,” I said with a shrug, my stomach twisting from yet another half-truth. Smoking cigarettes on my hormones could cause fatal blood clots, but I couldn't tell them about that either.

“Neither do I,” Layla said, waving dismissively. “It's about the milestone. Which reminds me…” She reached under the table and brought out a small present wrapped in silvery paper.

“We all chipped in,” Anna said, practically bouncing in her seat.

“You guys!” I said, a surge of emotion overcoming me as I untied the ribbon. “You didn't have to.”

“Did anyway,” Chloe said. I looked over at her, trying to catch her gaze. I wanted to make sure everything was back to normal after our conversation at the mall, but as always her expression was unreadable. “Happy birthday.”

I opened the box and lifted out a pair of lovely amethyst stud earrings that matched my homecoming dress perfectly, glimmering in the late-morning sun. “I love them!” I said, then added sadly, “but my ears aren't pierced.”

“We know. We're getting them pierced,” Anna said brightly. “We promised Grant we'd keep you busy while he got your present ready.”

“Wait, what?” I said. “What is it?”

“Don't change the subject.” Layla steepled her fingers like a supervillain. “And trust me, it's best if you come quietly.”

*   *   *

The Rebel Yell tattoo parlor was a small cube of brick sitting in a rutted gravel parking lot. As we entered, a happy little bell chimed, just barely audible over Molly Hatchet blasting at full volume.

“Hey, Riley!” Layla called. A rail-thin girl with shorn green hair and gauges in her ears crushed Layla in a hug.

“This is my cousin Riley,” Layla said, smiling, an arm around the girl's shoulder. “She's basically the biggest badass ever.”

“Naw,” Riley said, smiling back. She turned to face us. “So who's today's victim?”

“Right here,” Layla said, hooking her arm around mine. “Amanda.”

“Nice to meet you, Amanda. You'll be with Rod today—he'll take good care of you.” Riley yelled across the tattoo parlor and a man with a shaved head and flannel shirt came over.

“Hey there.” Rod smiled, motioning to the chair. “Whatcha interested in? Upper cartilage, maybe get a gauge started?”

“Oh, no,” Layla said. “Her ears aren't pierced at all.”

“A virgin!” Rod said, smiling. I felt my cheeks flush. “Well, don't worry, y'all came to the right place. I know it's probably a little intimidating in here, but we'll take good care of you.”

Layla eyed my nervous face. She pointed at me and then pointed at the chair. I gripped the armrests like I was riding a roller coaster and closed my eyes, trying to keep my breathing under control.

“Don't tell me when it's coming,” I said, listening to the crinkle of plastic as Rod unwrapped the needle. I focused on happy things instead—how just this moment, the boy of my dreams was preparing a birthday surprise, how friends who knew me well were dead set on getting me what I wanted, and not taking no for an answer. I couldn't remember the last time I'd wanted to celebrate my birthday, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had something to celebrate. “Do something to distract me.”

“Okay,” Layla said, sounding mischievous. A quiet moment passed, and then she said, “You know how Anna and me are on the homecoming committee?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, we nominated you for homecoming queen!”

I didn't even notice when the needle went in.

 

25

My ears still stung when the girls dropped me off near the trail to the tree house. I knew better than to try to find out from them what Grant had planned, so I got out of the car without protest, smiling to myself as Layla wolf-whistled and screeched down the street. Once they were out of sight I made my way down the trail, my hoodie providing minimal protection against the chill blowing off the lake.

The undergrowth was mostly dead this far into November, and inches of fallen leaves obscured the path. I heard distant music and followed it to its source. When I stepped out of the trees and got my first glimpse of the lake glittering like crystal in the late-afternoon sun, it took me a moment to realize that Grant was there, leaning against the tree, fiddling absentmindedly with a lighter.

He wore a slightly threadbare black suit with buttons that shimmered in the light. His hair was combed and slicked back, and he had shaved. I loved the feel of his stubble on my face, but his smooth cheeks made him look princely and dashing. I took a small step forward.

“Wow,” I said. “I mean, hi. Apparently you've been getting something ready?” I recognized the music as the soundtrack to
Amélie
and grinned.

“Your birthday present,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling sheepishly. He nodded toward the ladder. I climbed up and saw the tree house floor covered in a white blanket, with two plates of food. Candles flickered on the window ledge. “Surprise!”

I hugged him and gave him a kiss.

“What's that smell?” I said. “It's wonderful.”

“Sole Meunière,” Grant said. “Hope I pronounced that right.” He hadn't, but he had gotten it wrong in a cute way. “And there's a hot potato salad and some baked zucchini with olive oil too.” He laced his fingers in mine and I felt so good, like lying in a sunbeam on a spring afternoon and falling into cold water after exercising all at once. “I remembered what you said when we watched
Amélie
, about wanting to live in Paris one day, so I thought I'd bring France here for a night.”

“Grant,” I said, turning to him, “this is wonderful. I don't know what to say.”

“Yeah,” Grant said. I realized he was staring at me. “You make me feel that way a lot.” His lips parted as we stared at each other, and for a moment our eyes just danced back and forth and we breathed each other in.

He stepped forward and pressed his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, my fingertips grazing the lapels of his jacket as our mouths moved. I smiled and bit his lip as I undid the buttons on his jacket. He shrugged it off and broke our kiss to gingerly hang it over a tree branch.