Flawless

by Lara Chapman

  Jay and I are sitting in the backseat of Rock’s truck, which gives me a bird’s-eye view of Rock and Kristen holding hands across the console separating them. The space between me and Jay is considerably less intimate.

  The faint scent of Rock’s cologne, a scent I’ve come to recognize as his, penetrates my senses and makes me wish I was sitting in the front seat next to him. Anything to get closer to him. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, leaning forward just an inch to smell him even better. It’s not until Jay clears his throat that I realize how insane I must look.

  I’m quick to face him, doing my best to act like he didn’t just catch me inhaling all the spare oxygen in the truck.

  “Where’re we going again?” Jay asks, focusing his attention on me, making me even more self-conscious than I al-ready am.

  “The Arena Theater. Have you been there before?” I ask.

  Jay nods. “Couple of times. My dad and I like to check out the big comedy acts there. The last one we went to was Larry the Cable Guy. Talk about fun-ny!”

  Without pause, Jay launches into a pretty impressive impersonation of the comedian, right down to the trademark “Git-r-done!” which is enough to send Kristen into a laughing frenzy.

  Rock and I are relatively quiet in comparison to Kristen and Jay, letting them carry the conversation in the truck.

  When Jay does a spot-on impersonation of Mr. McGinty, our peace-loving guidance counselor, all four of us wind up laughing hysterically.

  Wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, I face Jay. “You’re really good.”

  “Seriously!” Kristen adds. “You should definitely be a stand-up.”

  Jay smiles at the compliment and even in the dim light of the truck, I can tell he’s blushing. “Thanks.”

  We park in the garage, then walk to the Arena’s main entrance. The four of us make a pretty nice sight, I think. Kristen and I are in sundresses, which are just the thing for the Houston heat. And the guys are both in khaki Dockers and polos. Nothing too formal, but nicer than jeans.

  It’s hard not to compare Jay to Rock, even though it’s totally unfair to do that. I hate being compared to Kristen.

  Jay is definitely no Rock, but to be honest, he’s cute in an all-American, boy-next-door kind of way. He’s got a real wholesome look to him. Which is about a million miles away from Rock’s rugged face. Rock’s more the strong, quiet type whereas Jay’s definitely the life of the party.

  Jay and I follow Rock and Kristen, and although we’re walking side by side, we’re not touching. I can’t make myself look away when Rock pulls Kristen in close, like he’s trying to keep her warm. Like it isn’t eighty-five degrees in the steamy garage.

  As we approach the entrance, Rock pauses to pull the tickets out of his wallet while Kristen and Jay debate which comedian from Blue Collar Comedy is the funniest.

  Rock’s humming a song that sounds familiar but I can’t recall and I watch him intently, like a groupie watches her idol. When he looks up, locks eyes with me, and smiles, I nearly jump in surprise. “Ready?” he asks.

  I turn to Jay, who’s moved close beside me, walking in step with me. There’s an easiness with Jay I can’t deny. He’s a comfortable guy to be around, funny and confident but not cocky.

  I’m the last one to enter the theater when Jay holds open the door for us. As he releases the door, he places his hand lightly on my back, guiding me as we follow Rock and Kristen.

  When his hand lingers, I can’t help but feel flattered that someone as popular and nice as Jay obviously likes me. At least enough to touch me. The saying “Beggars can’t be choosers” runs through my head. Almost instantly, I feel guilty for even thinking such a thing. I should be proud to be with him. I try to focus on Jay, on the feel of his hand on my back.

  The theater isn’t Houston’s finest, but it’s nice just the same. Small and intimate, which is great for this kind of event. Vendors fill the lobby, selling everything from drinks and snacks to programs and souvenirs. Even over the conflicting smells in the lobby, the scent of Rock’s cologne wafts to me as I walk in his wake. I haven’t noticed Jay’s cologne, but I make a mental note to do find out what he smells like.

  “Here we are,” Rock announces, stopping at the entrance to our section. As we follow the usher to our seats, Jay keeps his hand on my back, staying so close behind me that if I stopped suddenly, he’d be on top of me. It actually feels pretty special having someone that close.

  The tuxedoed usher, a college-aged guy with a barbell piercing through his right eyebrow, stands transfixed, eyes trained on my nose, when I attempt to move past him to my seat. Rock and Kristen have already shuffled down the narrow aisle and are waiting for me and Jay to follow, but I can’t move out of humiliation. Which is utterly ridiculous when you consider I’ve dealt with this kind of thing my entire life.

  But having someone gawk at me so candidly is crushing—especially on a date.

  Jay gently nudges me forward as he turns to the usher, snapping his fingers millimeters from the usher’s eyes. “Can I help you with something?” he asks, going from all-American funny guy to ass-kicking superhero in the blink of an eye. Maybe I can like this guy after all.

  The usher steps back, mumbling something that sounds like “sorry” before hightailing it back up the aisle to man his post at the door.

  I don’t dare face Jay since I have absolutely no clue what to say. I can’t even decide if I should say anything at all. So I totally cop out and act like nothing unusual happened. Like my date didn’t have to stand up for me because I was too humiliated to do it for myself.

  Not my proudest moment. Not by a mile.

  I walk to my seat next to Kristen and notice her eyes are narrowed, her predictable protectiveness in action. Knowing I need to defuse her anger, I smile and wink at her to let her know I’m okay. Because if she thinks I’m truly upset, she’ll go all mother-protecting-her-cub on that insignificant usher. And that wouldn’t be fun for anyone.

  More surprising than Jay’s willingness to defend me is the way Rock’s standing, watching the usher at the door. His normally placid eyes are dark and menacing, like he’s doing everything he can to telepathically hurt the usher.

  “Great seats, man,” Jay says, jarring Rock out of his trance. Jay nods at him in an everything’s-okay way and sits down.

  Rock nods, reluctantly taking his seat as he lays those beautiful eyes on me. He takes a deep breath, then lets it out, and his eyes go soft again.

  Looking back at Jay, Rock says, “Glad you like them.”

  Kristen pulls Rock’s hand into hers. “I’ve never been here before. I love the way it’s set up,” she says.

  Rock’s eyes are back on mine as he mumbles a response. When he gives me a crooked little smile, my heart drops.

  I’m spared from suffering through lame chitchat until curtain time when the lights dim, signaling the start of the play. There is a God.

  It doesn’t take long for me to forget the incident with the usher and lose myself in the play, which has a cast of only three: Georgiana, Aylmer, Aminadab.

  Watching the story unfold just ten rows in front of me, I can literally feel myself on the stage as Georgiana. She’s stunning with just one visible flaw: a birthmark on her cheek in the shape of a hand. And she’s entirely comfortable with the birthmark. It’s just a small part of who she is, like her lips or her eyes … or her nose. In fact, other people find it alluring.

  But things change for Georgiana. Just like they’ve changed for me.

  When her husband, Aylmer, becomes obsessed with her birthmark, insisting on its removal so she’ll be flawless, she agrees in her eagerness to please him.

  I flash back to the night I scanned that ridiculous Web page to check out new noses, just to make myself more attractive to Rock. More attractive to anyone, even myself.

  I ache to scream out to Georgiana, “Don’t do it!”

  The emotions rolling through me are ludicrous. I’ve read the story before. I know she
ends up dead as a result of her husband’s “cure” but my stomach twists as I watch the actress take the cup of liquid from him. Tears sting my eyes and I swallow audibly. I’m too full of emotion to be embarrassed, even when Jay puts his hand on the chair behind me, letting his fingertips rub my shoulder in a soft, soothing way.

  Onstage, Aminadab mutters he would never change Georgiana if she were his wife. Will someone ever feel that way about me? About my nose? I mean, a birthmark can be covered with makeup, but a nose? My nose? Not so much.

  I swipe at the trail of tears on my face, closing my eyes to the scene being brought to life.

  “Oh geez,” Kristen whispers, then grabs my hand. Her death grip does little to comfort me as I open my eyes in time to see Georgiana take her last dramatic breath on stage.

  Let’s face it. I’ve had seventeen years to think about the way people see me. And how I see myself. Nine days out of ten, I’m happy to stay exactly the way I am. But on that tenth day … I’m not so sure I wouldn’t fall for some crazy Aylmer-ish scheme to fix my nose.

  The other three chat without me on the ride to the restaurant because my head is still swimming with thoughts of Georgiana. A dull thud pounds in my head. I don’t want to be like Georgiana, a girl so easily convinced that she has to be perfect. It’s what I’ve preached to Kristen for years. It’s what I’ve fought against for as long as I can remember.

  I’m pulled out of my funk when we park in front of my favorite Chinese restaurant in Houston, P.F. Chang’s.

  When we sit at a booth near the back, Jay rests his arm behind my shoulders, leaving me frozen in place. Am I supposed to move around or sit completely still? What if his arm slips off and he thinks I’m being rude? Or worse, he thinks I’m interested? I totally play it safe and sit like I’ve got a motion-sensored bomb tied to my butt.

  Jay doesn’t seem to notice my rigidity because he laughs and cuts up over dinner, like having his arm draped over my shoulders is the most natural thing in the world. Like we do that every day.

  Even when our meals come and he puts his arm down, his hand finds mine from time to time, squeezing it or brushing over it like a little reminder that he’s there. And, honestly, it’s totally got me flustered.

  As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the way Rock keeps looking at me. Studying me, like he’s trying to read my mind. Even when Kristen attempts to pull him into her conversation with Jay, he only gives her a cursory glance, a grin, and a few words.

  “What’d you think about the play?” Rock asks suddenly, interrupting Jay midsentence.

  I look at Kristen, then back at Rock. “Me?”

  He nods, impatient. “You.”

  “I’ve read the story before, so there weren’t any surprises.”

  Again, he nods, growing irritated. “But the play? How’d it hit you?”

  “It was great, Rock. Really. Thanks for the tickets.” Geez. What does he expect me to say? I loved the way it tore at my gut, making me more aware of my unmistakable flaw than ever?

  But he’s relentless. “Do you think Georgiana was right to go along with Aylmer’s plan?”

  Before I can answer, Kristen pipes in, rolling her eyes. “Hel-lo. She ended up dead. Of course she shouldn’t have gone along with it.”

  Rock turns his attention to his date. “That’s not the point. Should she have given in to his demands to be perfect? To be what he wanted?” He targets me again. “Do you think she was right to do that, regardless of how it ended?”

  I shake my head, fully understanding the point he’s pushing. “Of course not. No one should change the way they look in order to please someone else.” As the words slip through my mouth quietly, I know that’s how I feel in my heart of hearts. Even on that tenth day, when I consider changing my nose, it’s just that—a consideration. Curiosity. Nothing more.

  The entire conversation is so intense, so confusing, my head is spinning. The table is silent and everyone’s looking directly at me.

  The corner of Rock’s mouth turns up slightly and his eyes soften. “Is that really what you think?”

  “It’s really what I think,” I tell him with 100 percent conviction.

  My hands are sweating when Rock pulls his truck to a stop in front of my house. Jay opens the door and lets me out, then walks me to the door, just like I’ve always imagined.

  But I’m terrified.

  I’m not ready for a kiss. Not now. Not with Jay. Especially not with Rock and Kristen watching.

  “Have fun?” Jay asks, voice low, deeper than I expected.

  Fun? The night was uncomfortable and emotional. But, surprisingly, it was fun. “I did. Thanks for going along with Kristen’s double-date scheme,” I whisper.

  He stops suddenly, pulling me around to face him. “I’ve wanted to ask you out for nearly two years, but I’ve always chickened out. I owe Kristen.”

  “You do?” I ask, flattered, embarrassed.

  “I’d like to do it again,” he says, taking my hand as he walks me the few remaining steps that bring us to the door. “Maybe next weekend?”

  “Again?” I ask, like a total idiot.

  “Except maybe this time it can be just the two of us.”

  I nod, smiling, not entirely sure that’s something I want to do. I mean, how much did the two of us actually talk tonight? Do we have anything in common? And just because he’s the first guy to show some interest in me doesn’t mean I have to go out with him. Does it?

  Instead of answering him, I unlock the dead bolt. When I turn around, he’s moving in.

  Lower.

  Closer.

  He doesn’t even look at my nose as he comes in for the kiss.

  I’m so nervous I could puke. Right here, right now.

  But then it happens. His lips graze mine, his nose bumping mine just slightly. I never even close my eyes, watching him maneuver my face with ease. When he pulls away, I stare back at him, blinking, stunned.

  “See you later,” he says with a run of his fingers over my hair, then turns and jogs down the sidewalk and back to the truck.

  I touch my lips, wondering if it really happened.

  Beauty is the promise of happiness.

  —STENDHAL

  Chapter Fourteen

  I walk in the house as Rock’s truck pulls away from the curb. The house is quiet, but there’s a light on in the living room.

  When I find Mom on the couch, I smile. This is how I love her best.

  In cotton pajama pants and a tank top, with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, she looks more like my sister than my mother. She doesn’t look like Beth Burke, news anchor. She’s just … Mom.

  I’m touched she attempted to wait up for me. There’s an open book in her lap and a half-empty glass of wine on the table next to her, but she’s sound asleep.

  I slide the book out of her hand and carefully dog-ear the page to mark her spot before placing it on the coffee table. But I’m not quiet enough, because she wakes with a sleepy smile.

  “What kind of mother am I?” she asks. “I can’t even stay awake to make sure you get home safely.”

  I lie down on the couch and put my head in her lap, looking up at her face. “Don’t worry about it. Neither one of us has much practice with this dating business.”

  She runs her hands through my hair, softly untangling it as she goes, reminding me of our earlier days together. I can’t even remember the last time she touched me this way.

  “Tell me all about it,” she prods.

  I know most girls wouldn’t do it, but I’m in the mood to talk so I tell her every last detail about the night, ending with the kiss.

  “What exactly were you expecting?” Mom asks.

  “I don’t know. Sparks? Fireworks?”

  “Hate to be the one to tell you this, honey, but most kisses aren’t like that.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” I groan.

  “Sometimes, with the right man, it’s amazing. I mean toe-c
urling, lose-your-breath intense. But, for me, those kinds of kisses have been few and far between. Way far.”

  “Well, there definitely wasn’t any toe curling happening, that’s for sure. But it wasn’t awful either. Jay’s a really cool guy.”

  Mom giggles. “Other than the kiss, how’d you like Jay?”

  “He might be the funniest person I know. I mean, he can do impersonations like nobody’s business.”

  “There are worse things than dating someone who makes you laugh.”

  I nod. “It’s just that … well, I don’t know. It was more like going out with a friend.”

  “Tell me about Rock and Kristen,” she says, diverting the conversation to the real issue of the night. She’s got a killer gut instinct.

  “They’re impossible to be around, always touching, hugging, kissing. Ugh.” Even as the words leave my lips, I can hear the jealousy in my voice. I sound like a little girl who’s been forced to share her toys.

  “You’ve never had a problem with Kristen doing that with her other boyfriends,” Mom says quietly, knowing she’s treading on fragile ice.

  “Mmm-hmm,” I mumble. Kristen’s list of nameless, faceless guys meant nothing … to either one of us.

  “Maybe you should just lay it all out there. You know? Just tell her exactly how you’re feeling.”

  “And lose the only friend I’ve got? No thanks. I always swore I’d never let a guy break us up. I never have and I’m not going to start now.”

  “I think you may be underestimating Kristen, Sarah. The two of you have been best friends practically your entire lives. Don’t you think she’d understand? We both know Kristen would want you to be happy.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t think so.” Besides, I can’t even imagine how I’d go about telling her. Awkward.

  “What about Rock? Think you can talk to him?”

  “About him?” Mom seriously needs to get out and date a little. Maybe then she won’t come up with such outrageous ideas.

  “About the situation,” she clarifies.

  “The situation is that I’m attracted to my best friend’s boyfriend. There’s nothing he can do to fix that.” I don’t let my mind think about how he was betrayed that same way or what he’d do if he found out what Kristen and I had been up to. “There’s nothing I’d really want him to do, because in order to make me happy, he’d have to hurt Kristen, which I’m 100 percent against. And we’re making a monumental assumption that he’d even consider dating me. Which, of course, he wouldn’t.”