Glitter and Sparkle

by Shari L. Tapscott

  Riley saves me by sighing and turning her attention to Harrison. Immediately, her eyes stray to the daisies.

  The daisies that are still in his hands.

  The daisies that he’s now holding like he has no intention of handing over.

  “That’s an interesting accessory.” Riley’s gaze is fixed on Harrison with such longing that I want to roll my eyes.

  “Uh…yeah,” Harrison answers. His eyes flicker to me for the briefest moment, and then they look back at Riley.

  Riley chews her lips. Obviously deciding that if the flowers were for me, he would have already given them up, she says in her playful way, “They’re not for me, are they?”

  She says it like she’s just teasing, but there’s so much unveiled hope in her voice, even Dad looks a tad bit uncomfortable.

  For the briefest moment, Harrison’s eyes meet mine. Then his gaze flicks to Grant, who, at some unknown point, slid his arm around my back.

  Harrison looks unsure for half a moment, but then, as if he can’t dash Riley’s hope, hands the daisies over. “They sure are.”

  My heart stops. It just…stops. I blink, suddenly overcome with…joy.

  Yes, that’s it.

  Riley accepts the small bouquet with such enthusiasm, I’m stabbed with a sliver of remorse over feeling so jealous about it.

  Jealous?

  No. I don’t mean jealous.

  Vain. Yes, that’s better. I wanted the flowers because I was the lead, and they should be mine. And that’s horrible. I should certainly work on quelling this unpleasant quality.

  “Mr. Alderman, do you think it would be all right if I drove Lauren home?” Grant asks from my side.

  My dad smiles, obviously impressed with Grant’s manners, and agrees.

  Before Grant leads me away, I glance at Harrison. He’s not paying me any attention because he’s laughing at something Riley’s just said.

  Another twinge.

  “You ready?” Grant asks, and he holds his hand out, waiting for me to take it.

  I hesitate for only half a moment before I slide my hand in his.

  Grant drives home, and he definitely takes the long way. Also, for a teenage guy, he’s sure driving like a slow old woman.

  He looks regretful when he finally pulls up to my house.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say.

  Grant nods and runs a hand through his blond hair. “Maybe I can pick you up again tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” I say, nodding. When Grant shifts his knees my way, turning his body toward me, I open the latch and slide out of the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  For the briefest moment, disappointment flashes over his face, but he quickly chases it with an easy smile. “Goodnight, Lauren.”

  Nodding again, I wave and run up the steps to the front door.

  Mom and Dad aren’t home yet, so the house is dark. I flip on lights as I make my way up to my room.

  As I’m pulling on my soft, fleecy owl pajamas, the front door opens and closes.

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” I call down the stairs.

  I’m sure Mom’s already in the kitchen, starting the popcorn that she always makes after an opening night. It’s a tradition.

  There’s a knock at my door.

  “Come in,” I call.

  The door opens, and I turn, expecting Dad to be standing there, ready to ask if I want kettle corn or regular. It’s not Dad.

  It’s not Mom either.

  My fingers fumble the earring I’m pulling out, and the back falls to the floor.

  “Um, hi.” I drop to my knees and search for the tiny silver piece.

  Harrison steps over and kneels in front of me. He finds the earring back first and holds it up. Our eyes meet, and I can’t look away.

  Slowly, he takes my hand, turns it palm-side up, and drops the earring back into it. Then he says in a slightly lowered voice, “Nice pajamas.”

  I jerk up, putting a good amount of distance between us. “They’re comfortable.”

  He raises his eyebrows instead of answering.

  “What are you doing up here?” I turn to my jewelry box on the vanity and drop the earrings into the jumbled mess.

  “What is all that?” Harrison asks from behind me. “How many earrings do you own?”

  What is wrong with him? Doesn’t he understand personal space? He’s closed the distance between us, and he’s leaning over my shoulder. If I were to turn, my lips would just brush his jaw.

  I snap the lid closed. “A lot. They kind of took over.”

  He picks the lid up again and peers inside. “How do find your necklaces when they’re all tossed in there together?”

  There’s the slightest scent of the cologne he wears wafting from him, and in a self-destructive move, I tilt my chin toward him just slightly and subtly breathe him in.

  Just as my eyes are half closed in appreciation of how incredibly good he smells, he looks over. Instantly, I force my expression to drop to vague.

  “Oh,” I say when I realize he’s expecting an answer. “I don’t like necklaces. It always feels like they’re choking me. Scarves are soft, so I wear those instead.”

  He nods and looks back at the box. “You need something different for this.”

  I shrug. “Why change something that works?”

  Did he just shift closer?

  “Perhaps, this used to work for you—” He motions to the jewelry box, and then he turns his head again. Our eyes lock. “But maybe it doesn’t suit you anymore. Maybe you need something new.”

  My stomach clenches.

  “Sorry about the daisies, by the way,” he says, his tone going back to friendly and neutral. “They were for you, but your friend didn’t have any. I didn’t want her to feel bad.”

  I swallow. “Oh…that’s okay.”

  He nods and takes a step away. Suddenly I can breathe again, but now I’m lightheaded.

  “You didn’t really need them when you had those anyway.” Harrison nods to the bouquet of roses sitting on my vanity.

  I turn to my mirror and comb my hair so I won’t have to look at him.

  “Just between you and me,” I say. “I liked your daisies just as much.” I can’t help it, I glance at him in the mirror.

  A quick smile crosses Harrison’s face, and our eyes meet in the reflection.

  “I know,” he says. “They’re your favorite.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  December 11th

  “You would think they could let up on the homework since winter break is only a week away,” Riley complains as we navigate down the crowded halls.

  I shrug. I already finished the project in my language arts class, so I don’t have anything to do this weekend except work on my blog and do the mandatory online career aptitude test that I’ve been putting off. Mr. Evertson, our school career counselor, reminded me I have to complete it by Monday. Most people manipulate the questions, hoping to get the career choice they want. I have no clue what I’m interested in, so I’ll probably end up with something awful like waste management technician.

  “I shouldn’t have taken Mrs. Majors,” Riley continues. “Everyone warned me.”

  A group of freshman boys stands near us, and their eyes follow Riley down the hall. She notices and gives them a wave as we pass. They practically swoon at her feet.

  It’s the cheerleader outfit. They simply can’t help themselves on Fridays when all the girls on the cheer squad wear them.

  “What are we doing tomorrow?” Riley asks.

  “I thought you were doing homework.”

  She shrugs. “I’ll finish it tonight.”

  I roll my eyes. “If you can get it all done tonight, why were—”

  I’m interrupted by Riley’s low warning screech. I follow her gaze, and there’s Grant. Coming our way.

  I shift my backpack and try not to look frazzled. We’ve been spending more time together since the play, and he’s taken to joining us for lunch. But I’m not quite co
mfortable around him yet.

  “Lauren, can I talk to you?” he asks once he reaches us.

  From our right, a group of sophomore girls giggle.

  Trying to look confident and unruffled, I say, “Sure.”

  Riley waves her goodbyes and gives me a stern look that I read as, “Call me the minute you get in your car or I will hunt you down.”

  Grant and I walk through the parking lot, side by side.

  I fidget with my keys. “What’s up?”

  “You want to go out with me tomorrow?”

  He says it with confidence, like he doesn’t think I’ll say no. Still, his lips are tight like he’s bracing himself for a rejection.

  The coat I wore today was more for style and less for warmth, and I wrap it closer around myself to block out the December chill. “What do you have in mind?”

  Grant leans against my car. “Dinner? Maybe a movie?”

  I bite my lip, trying not to smile at how cute and uncertain he looks. “All right.”

  He grins now, and his face lights up.

  “I’ll have to ask my parents,” I warn. “They’re kind of…”

  “Protective?” he offers.

  I nod, smiling. “The downfall of being the baby.”

  “That’s okay. Call me tonight? Let me know what they say?”

  “I will.”

  He opens my door for me and gallantly motions me inside.

  Once in the car, I completely forget to call Riley. It doesn’t matter because I find her parked in front of my house, flirting at Harrison, who’s hanging Christmas lights with my dad.

  She’s completely enamored.

  “You guys are home early,” I say to both Dad and Harrison, but it’s Harrison I’m really talking to.

  “I went in early,” Dad reminds me.

  “I had an early afternoon meeting with the university,” Harrison says. “So I got off early.”

  “They were keeping me company while I was waiting for you,” Riley says. “I knew you’d forget to call.”

  “Come on.” I tug her arm so she’ll follow me inside.

  Once we’re in my room, she asks, “So, what did Grant want?”

  “He asked me to go to dinner and a movie tomorrow.”

  Riley squeals. “I knew he was going to! He mentioned it to Evan who told me in zoology.”

  “Then why did you ask?” I begin to organize the bottles of nail polish on my vanity.

  Riley flops on my bed. “I want details!”

  I shrug. “I don’t have any yet. He didn’t say where we’re going.”

  She narrows her eyes. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”

  Poppy Red goes next to Pink Blush. My hand hesitates on the bottle, and I begin to wonder if I should alphabetize the nail polishes instead of sorting them by color.

  “Lauren?”

  “Yes, I’m excited,” I automatically say.

  Glittery top coats need to be grouped separately from the clear.

  Riley flops back on a pillow and pulls Penelope in her arms. The cat meows and then burrows next to her, purring.

  “You’ve loved Grant for, oh, I don’t know, forever.”

  So why do I feel like running away every time he gets close?

  Mom pokes her head into my room. “We’re going out for dinner tonight. Do you want to join us, Riley?”

  Riley hops up. “I’d love to!”

  Mom smiles. “Be downstairs in five minutes.”

  It’s our first family dinner out since the play ended. Riley pokes around in my closet as I change out of school clothes.

  “So,” she says in a nonchalant voice that automatically puts me on edge. “Do you know if Harrison is seeing anyone? Girlfriend back home, maybe?”

  I freeze with a comb halfway through my hair. “I don’t know.”

  She nods as if she couldn’t care less, but I know better.

  “He’s too old for you,” I can’t help but add.

  Riley rolls her eyes. “Three years isn’t that much.”

  “Four years,” I remind her. “You’re not eighteen yet.”

  “He’s twenty-one?”

  I tap my fingers on the vanity. “Well, not technically. But he will be in March.”

  She leans forward as if I’ve answered my own question. “Well, I’ll turn eighteen in April, so that’s not so bad.” Then she looks at me. “You know when his birthday is?”

  Shrugging into a jacket, I don’t quite meet her eyes as I walk to the door. “It’s only a week from Brandon’s. They usually shared a party.”

  There’s a line between Riley’s eyes as she studies me, but after she mulls over my answer, the strange look leaves her face.

  Mom and Dad discuss restaurant options, and Harrison leans against the couch, adding comments here and there. I hadn’t realized he was coming with us.

  But I should have known.

  We decide on the barbecue place across town, and then we all pile into Mom’s SUV. Dad and Mom sit up front, which leaves us three to figure out the seating arrangement in the back.

  Riley takes the seat behind Dad, and Harrison is about to slide over to the middle. Right next to her.

  “I’ll sit in the very back,” I offer, already brushing in front of him so I can crawl over the seat.

  Harrison sets his hand on my arm and tugs me back. “There’s room for the three of us.”

  Yes, but I don’t want you that close to Riley.

  “You’re too tall to sit in the middle,” I argue.

  He motions me in with his head. “Then you sit in the middle.”

  I don’t want to be that close to you, either.

  Harrison gives me an expectant look, raising his eyebrows as if he’s wondering why I’m still standing outside the door in the gently falling snow, blinking at him like a deer.

  After a moment, I snap out of it and slide across the seat. Dad thankfully started the car early, so the leather is warm. Riley glances around me, giving Harrison another wistful look, and then she scoots toward the door so I can hook my seatbelt.

  Unfortunately, I have to slide closer to Harrison because the buckle has slipped between the seats.

  “Sorry,” I murmur as my leg pushes flush against his.

  As soon as I have it clasped, I inch closer to Riley so he can hook his buckle. He has enough decency to look embarrassed as his fingers accidentally brush my hip.

  While she waits for us to finish, Riley drums her fingers on her thigh. As Dad pulls out of the drive, I shoot her an apologetic look.

  She gives me a tight smile, and then she sends Harrison another longing glance over my shoulder. He’s too busy tapping away on his phone to notice.

  With our coats and scarves, we’re packed in the seat like sardines. I’m pushed up against Riley, but there’s still no escaping Harrison. Our shoulders are pressed together, and though I’ve tilted my knees toward Riley, my hip is still resting next to his.

  “Brandon’s going to be flying home next Friday,” Mom says from the front.

  Oh, joy.

  Actually, I am excited to see my brother, but I’m not sure I’m excited for his reunion with Harrison. They’re both obnoxious by themselves; I can’t imagine how awful they’ll be when they unite forces again.

  “He says he wants to go snowboarding while he’s here,” Dad adds.

  Riley squeals—she loves snowboarding.

  I scrunch my nose.

  “Still hate snow?” Harrison asks.

  I give him a sideways look. “I don’t hate snow.”

  Yes, I do.

  “You hated it when we were young.”

  This time, I turn my full attention on him. “No, I hated it when you stuffed snowballs down the back of my coat.”

  Harrison grins at the memory, his eyes still on his phone. “You had the loudest, shrillest shriek.”

  “You’re one to talk. Remember that time when we were camping, and Brandon sneaked up on your tent—”

  Riley very quietly, very de
murely, clears her throat. In return I clear my own throat before I finish, saying, “Anyway. I don’t hate snow.”

  At that, Harrison looks up from his phone, and our eyes meet. He wears the tiniest of smiles—as if he just knows I’m lying. Something passes between us, and my mouth goes dry.

  His phone chimes with a text, and I reluctantly pull my eyes away.

  What is wrong with me?

  I have a date with Grant tomorrow night.

  Grant, who, as Riley so kindly reminded me, I’ve been in love with forever.

  I fall silent for the rest of the drive, and Riley leans in front of me, batting her eyes at Harrison and cooing over his every word.

  It takes forever to reach the restaurant, but when we finally do, I practically crawl over Riley’s lap to be out of the middle of them.

  My dad notices and laughs. “In a hurry?”

  “Just hungry,” I answer.

  Mom called ahead, and we’re seated in less than five minutes. Harrison sits directly across from me, and Riley ends up next to him. Mom slides into the booth next to me, and Dad sits in a chair on the end.

  If my parents think it’s odd that Riley chose to sit next to Harrison, they don’t make any show of it.

  “They forgot your crayons, Laura-Lou.” Harrison smirks over his menu.

  I open my mouth to retort, but, again, I have nothing. Instead, I just glare at him. I wait for the waitress to take our drink orders, and then, still watching Harrison, I announce, “I have a date tomorrow.”

  My parents look up from their menus, and then my father says, “With whom?”

  “Grant.” I turn my attention to my dad. “You’ve met him.”

  Dad nods. “Kid with the roses.”

  I bristle at him calling Grant a kid, but I shake it off. “That’s right.”

  Harrison’s studying his menu, paying me no attention.

  “Where are you planning on going?” Mom asks.

  Even though we’ve been to this restaurant a dozen times, I study my menu. “Dinner. Maybe a movie.”

  Dad makes a sound in the back of his throat, a sound I don’t like.

  I look up. “Daddy, come on.”

  “We don’t know anything about him.”

  “Mom talked with him,” I argue. I turn to her. “He’s nice, right?”

  She nods. “He’s very nice.”