“See ya, Dad,” I say, ducking my head into the doorway.
He barely glances up, pausing from his phone call for a split second to slide his AMEX to the edge of his drafting table and to tell me to be careful.
Maisy is on the sofa still in her pajamas, shoveling colorful cereal into her mouth and watching some ridiculous Guido-filled rerun on MTV.
“Morning, Maisy,” I say. I playfully flick her in the back of the head. “It’s gorgeous out today. I’m headed to the mall, you want to come?”
She makes some sort of response that mostly sounds like a growl, and cereal drops out of her mouth back into her bowl. Cheerful as usual.
I was celebrating the beautiful weather and an afternoon off by wearing a light baby blue sundress and white flip flops. Plus, it would be really easy to change in and out of while trying on prom dresses. I don’t often wear shorts or dresses that show my legs. They’re too freakishly toned to be exposed outside of the gym. Sometimes I wish I had long, slender legs like Maisy or the other girls at school. But my legs are practical in gym. They make me more powerful. A lot of work has gone into these legs.
I pull up to Quinn’s house, a traditional, large red brick home that screams perfect family from the outside, and send her a quick text message to let her know I’m here. Within a few seconds, both she and Tessa are bounding down the driveway.
“So, how’s Grant?” Quinn asks before she even slides all the way into the passenger seat.
“Uh, good I guess. We’re just working on a project, Quinn. Give it a rest,” I say.
She smirks and starts scrolling my iPod for something to listen to.
“Sure. But you have to admit, he is like, beyond beautiful,” she says.
“I’m not admitting anything.”
Now, she’s getting on my nerves.
“Oh, leave her alone, Quinn. You know she can’t see anyone outside of Trevor,” Tessa chimes in.
“Whatever. You just wait till you see him, Tess. You. Will. Die,” Quinn trills.
Thankfully, she finally settles on a song and turns the stereo up way too loud to be able to carry on a conversation.
The crowds at the mall always make me nervous. I’m too short to see around or above anyone. Quinn pulls both Tess and I into the first store we come to and starts flipping through racks of dresses. Always the daring one, she quickly pulls out a floor length gown with heavy beading around the waist. The dress is mostly bright green and the material has the pattern of a peacock feather. The skirt of the gown is pleated chiffon and the criss-cross straps are heavily embellished.
I smirk. I wrongly assume she’s joking.
“What? I’d totes wear this. It’s awesome,” Quinn says.
Tessa’s taste is more similar to mine, meaning she’s plain. We gravitate to basic black and pastels. Tess has what I consider to be the perfect shape. She used to be a little heavy, but now, she’s all curves. She isn’t lean like Quinn, or stumpy like me, she’s just average. Average height. Average size. Sometimes, I wish I could be average anything. When Tess comes out of the dressing room with a baby blue gown with a plunging neckline and a Grecian look to it, I find myself fighting a moment of jealousy.
“It looks fabulous, Tess,” I say. It really does. And it shows off her ample chest. Another drawback to being an elite gymnast— nothing going on up top.
“Yep, that’s the one,” Quinn says.
I look over and she’s wearing the flowing peacock dress. I have to give it to her, it isn’t for me, but Quinn, with her olive skin, looks great in it.
“Well?” Quinn asks.
“Perfect,” Tess and I say together. Quinn jumps up and down, clapping enthusiastically.
Shopping has never been that easy for me. Everything I buy has to be altered to fit my small frame, and it makes trying things on difficult because it’s hard to imagine what it will look like when it’s “fixed.” I always end up feeling guilty for dragging Quinn and Tess to store after store.
“You mind if we stop in here?” Tessa asks. I glance up at the sign above the store. It’s a chain lingerie shop.
“Tess, you dirty, dirty girl,” Quinn jokes.
“Shut up, Quinn. I need something to wear under this dress. Did you see the crazy neckline?” Tess says.
Quinn rolls her eyes and marches inside.
I find a bench near the fitting rooms to rest while I wait for the girls to browse. My neck aches. My head hurts. Actually, everything sort of hurts.
“Isn’t this cute?” Quinn says, walking toward me with a tiny-black-satin-something or other.
“Uh, I guess? What’s the occasion?” I ask.
“Not for me, for you!” she says.
I laugh and feel my prudish nerves kick in.
“Not exactly my thing, Quinn.” I say. She knows good and well that I would never be caught dead in something like that. I sleep in pajama pants and a tank top, every single night.
Quinn clucks her tongue. “For the lake house.”
“Oh!” The blush is definitely in full force now. “I don’t think so. That’s not me. Trevor knows that.”
“Fine, but it’s only your first time once,” she says. “And it’s not his, so…” She turns and crams the flimsy garment onto a full rack. So, she’s right. It’s going to be my first time. And I do want everything to be perfect. But there’s no way I’m going to be any less nervous about everything if I’m strutting around in a black negligee. Even if it might be a welcome change for Trevor to see.
I wipe my nervous, sweaty palms onto my dress. It’s not like I’m going to be doing anything I don’t want to do. Trevor and I have been together for a long time, and he hasn’t forced the issue, but I’m clueless about what to expect. Up until now, we’d only had some heated make-out sessions. He’s always been patient with me, but he’s about to graduate, and go away to college, and I know I want one of our last night’s together to be the biggest of all.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Tessa says, stepping out of the dressing room.
“Let’s just call it a day, guys, I’m beat and we’ve been everywhere,” I say after Tess has pays and we’ve left the store.
As the words are leaving my mouth, I see it.
The strapless, electric blue mini-dress that’s meant for me in the window. The bubble hem is perfect for my height, and the frosted blue sequins that completely cover the dress are one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Best of all, it doesn’t even need to be altered.
-Five—
The shopping trip must have gotten to me more than I’d originally thought. We didn’t get in late, it was barely dark, but I immediately went upstairs and went to bed. I slept hard, all night long. Nightmare free.
I probably would have slept all day if I hadn’t felt something lightly breezing across my face.
I try to open my eyes, but am blinded by the sunlight streaming in.
Sunlight? I quickly shoot up in bed.
How long have I been sleeping?
What day is it?
Did I miss gym?
I hear a deep chuckle and turn to see Trevor sitting next to me on my bed.
“What in the world?” I ask. I blink repeatedly to ensure that I’m really awake.
“Good morning to you, too, Sleeping Beauty,” he says. It’s more than a little strange to see him in my room. He’s only made it past my dad and up here a couple of times.
“What time is it?” I grumble.
I love Trevor, but I have rules about talking when I first wake up. Like waiting an hour to swim after eating, I appreciate if no one speaks to me for the thirty minutes that I’m awake.
“A little past noon,” he says. “Your dad let me in on his way out. He’s taking Maisy to Savannah for the day.”
Nice. She told me she had plans this weekend. I would have gone with them if she mentioned that her plans were with dad. Whatever.
“Oh,” I say. “How long have you been here?”
He shrugs.
; “Not long. A couple of hours. You were sleeping really hard,” he says. He kisses me on the tip of my nose.
“You really should have woken me,” I say, only half meaning it. Sunday is the only day that I don’t have gym. I assume that’s why Dad didn’t wake me before he left. No one ever wakes me for anything on my one day off. Still, I feel guilty that Trevor has been sitting here watching me sleep for hours. I stretch as far as I can in my bed. I feel my joints pop and for some reason, I feel unusually sore. I can’t think of anything I did at gym this week to warrant the extra stiffness.
“Okay,” I say, struggling to sit up. “I’m up, I’ll get dressed, what do you want to do today?”
“Well,” Trevor says, pushing me back down lightly with his index finger. “I think that’s a bad idea.” His smile is coy.
“Huh?”
“You getting dressed, is a terrible idea,” he says. He reaches over and pulls me in close to him. His lips are hot on mine, and I love it, but no matter how good it feels, I can’t let the thoughts of dental hygiene evaporate.
“Wait,” I finally manage to pull away and gasp. “I need to brush my teeth, I’m disgusting.”
“No you don’t,” he says, pulling me back toward him. God he smells good.
“Yeah, yeah I do. And besides, my dad could walk in any minute. We can’t do this right now.” I manage to break free and stand beside the bed.
“No he won’t. He’s hours away, Syd,” Trevor says with a confident smile. “Now, why don’t you come back to bed?”
He reaches over and runs his hand up my thigh and I relent and let him pull me back down on top of him. I’m strong, stronger than most guys I know, but not Trevor. The way he kisses me is like physical proof that he wants nothing more than to be with me. It makes me tingle. It makes me unaware of everything going on apart from Trevor and me. Until his hand gently starts fumbling with the tie on my pajama pants, attempting to loosen them. I playfully swat his hand away and jump back up off of the bed.
“Oh come on, Syd,” he groans. “You’re killing me.”
“You’ll survive a little longer,” I say with a light laugh. “I told you, we can’t do this right now.”
“Why?” he asks.
“The lake house.”
“What difference does it make if it’s here now or after prom?”
Good point.
But I’m just not ready at this exact moment. I still haven’t even brushed my teeth. I want it to be special. Not spur of the moment because we happened to be alone. Plus, I need a little more time to get a handle on my nerves. I know I can’t put him off much longer, though.
“Please. Please just try to be patient with me a little longer,” I say.
“I’ve been really patient, Syd. You have to admit that. I just want to be with you. I don’t see what the big deal it. Let me make love to you.” His voice transforms into the most velvety smooth sound I’ve ever heard. His words tug at my heart, and my resolve.
I’m still standing beside the bed, staring down at him. His hand catches mine.
I take in his long, toned body. His thick blonde hair that makes him look like he should be in a surfing magazine. That ridiculously handsome face. Any girl in the world would be lucky to have him. And somehow, he wants me. Just me.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly “Please just give me a little more time. Please.” I push my lower lip out into the pouty way I know he can’t resist and he lets out a loud sigh of concession and pulls himself upright.
“Fine,” he says. He stands behind me and presses his lips to the back of my neck. “Can’t blame me for trying, though.”
“I love you,” I whisper.
“Love you, too, Syd.”
********
When I wake up Monday morning, I feel like death. My head is pounding and the soreness from Sunday has only intensified. No good. My mom had always said that she wasn’t “allowed” to get sick. That’s how I feel. I don’t have time to be sick.
I stumble my way through my morning workout until Sam takes pity on me and lets me leave thirty minutes early. As soon as I get home, I take a long, hot shower, and while the steam helps to clear the crud out of my head, it doesn’t touch the achiness I feel all over my body. I would give anything to go back to bed, but that’s not in the cards. Before I leave for school, I fumble through the medicine cabinet until I find a package of cold medicine and shove it into my backpack.
Trevor is waiting for me in our usual spot. As soon as he sees me, he starts in my direction and I’m immediately thankful for that small gesture so I don’t have to trudge through the crowded quad. His face is full of confusion, and as I glance down, I quickly realize why. My sweats and hooded sweatshirt, combined with the messy bun on top of my head don’t scream ‘put together,’ like my normal appearance.
“Nice of you to dress up, Syd,” he says while pushing some stray hairs out of my eyes that I’d been too lazy to reach up and do for myself.“Jesus, Sydney, you’re burning up.”
“I know,” I sniffle. “I’m just waiting for this medicine to kick in. I’ll be okay.”
“Why don’t you just go home? You can miss one day of school. The world won’t end.” He’s right. One day won’t kill me. Or anyone else for that matter. But it’s just not in me to admit defeat and let a stupid case of the flu take over my day. If I’m going to take a day off, I want to be doing something fun. Not lying at home alone, sipping chicken broth.
“I’m really okay. Please don’t make this a big deal.”
“Text me if you need me to take you home early,” he says as I walk into my first period class.
Grant is already seated when I slump into the chair next to him.
“Morning, Sydney,” he says cheerfully. I cringe. He’s too cheerful for the way I feel today.
“Morning,” I grumble. I flop my head onto the table with a slight groan and wait for class to start. I can feel the pounding of my pulse in between my eyes. Miserable isn’t even close to the word that describes how I feel.
“You don’t look so hot,” Grant says. “No offense,” he quickly adds.
I halfway sit up. It’s all I can manage.
“I’m good. Just a little cold.”
“Why don’t we reschedule you coming over tonight?”
“Not necessary. I’ll be fine by then. Unless you’d rather me not come by and risk spreading my germs.” I laugh. And then sneeze.
He narrows his eyes in a look of contemplation.
“If you’re up for it, I’d love to have you,” he says.
I pull up to Grant’s house earlier than planned. Sam had all but kicked me out of the gym, saying that my “snotting” all over the equipment didn’t qualify as a workout. I wish I would have brought the piece of paper with Grant’s phone number, I hate showing up early without calling first.
I take my time trudging up the large steps to Grant’s house. They have either grown since the last time I was here, or my equilibrium is seriously off. Through the glass panel, I can see Julie making her way to the door.
“Hi, Sydney,” Julie says. “Grant’s upstairs, you can go on up.”
“Thanks,” I say. I’m about to ask which room is his, but she’s already run off somewhere.
I slowly make my way up the staircase and down the long hallway. This is way out of my comfort zone. I pass several closed doors and then come to a half-open one. The room is dimly lit and there’s faint music playing. The gray walls and sleek, modern furniture are a stark contrast to the antique formal furnishings in the rest of the house.
“Sydney?” Grant says. I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of his voice. I spin around and he’s right next to me. His thick hair is wet and disheveled, and so help me, he is wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
“Oh gosh. Um. I’m so sorry. I should have called to say I’d be early. I just…um…Julie told me to come up, and…” I can’t shut up. I try to avert my eyes from his chest. His abs.
He laughs and I
officially feel like the dumbest person alive.
“It’s fine. Come on in.” He leads me into the gray room. His room. He picks up a stack of clothes off of the foot of his bed. “Let me just throw these on.”
I nod.
Because the sight of Grant.
Dripping.
In a towel.
Has left me speechless.
I survey the room while I wait. It’s spotless. What teenage guy has a room this clean? One with a chief of household-staff, I reason. My mind flashes back to the sight of his well toned abs and I immediately feel my face burn. Stop it, I scold myself. I pull out the desk chair and readjust my position repeatedly, trying not to look as self-conscious as I feel.
“Sorry about that,” Grant says. His hair is still damp and wild. And his jeans and fitted white t-shirt aren’t making it any easier to fight the urge to ogle him.
“My fault,” I say, waving my hand around nonchalantly.
“So, how are you feeling? Better?”
“Much better,” I lie.
He narrows his eyes at me as if he’s about to call me out on it, just as Julie knocks on the half-open door.
She’s holding a small tray, which she quickly sets down at the end of the long birch desk that takes up the entire length of one side of the room and walks out.
“Thanks, Jules,” Grant calls after her.
He stands up and grabs the back of the chair I’m sitting in and wheels me over to the side of the desk with the tray.
I stare up at him and his lips twitch upward in a small smirk.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“You aren’t feeling any better, admit it,” he says. “Try to eat something. Trust me, if anything can help, it’s this. Jules makes the best chicken soup on the planet.”
“Seriously? You had her do this for me? Totally unnecessary,” I say.
“It’s nothing,” he says, waving me off. “Look, if it’s cool we can just work up here. I’ll run downstairs and get our supplies. You eat.”
I do what I’m told and eat every last bite of the delicious homemade soup. Times like these make me miss my mom. She should be making me soup and taking care of me. Since she died, I’ve sort of been on my own in that regard. Sure Dad is physically there, but he’s still hurting. Most days, he’s just going through the motions.
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