by Isabel Morin
“I can’t wear that.”
“Of course you can. You’ll look amazing.”
“But I…I don’t want anyone to see my scars.”
She looks confused, and then her expression softens. “Honey, no one notices any of that but you. Try it on at least and see what you think.”
I almost say no, but I’ve imagined wearing something sexy like this for years. I have to at least see how it looks.
Audrey turns around and puts the makeup away while I change. I’m afraid to look in the mirror and see that I was right, but I make myself step closer and turn a little so I can see my back.
My heart sinks.
“I really can’t wear this,” I say, trying not to cry.
She comes up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders, turning me back to the mirror.
“Hannah, look at yourself. You look amazing.”
“You can see my scars.”
“You’re right. I can see a few, and they look like chickenpox scars. No one will think anything of it. They’ll be too busy looking at your boobs.”
I manage a quavering smile. “No one even gets chicken pox anymore.”
“Maybe you have one of those mothers who doesn’t believe in vaccinations.”
I want to believe no one will notice, but sometimes friends lie to make you feel better. Then again, Audrey doesn’t do that. That’s one of the reasons I love her.
I let out a long breath and look in the mirror again. If I’m not actually trying to see scars, then I suppose they aren’t too noticeable. And I have a decent figure. I’m just not used to showing it.
I’m still not entirely sure about the top, but Audrey plows on.
“Now for your shoes.” She roots around on the floor of her tiny closet before popping back up again. “Here, try these wedges. They’re super easy to walk in.”
I’ve always admired her candy-red leather sandals, but even though we have the same shoe size, I’ve never asked to borrow them. They’re so cute. So not me.
I strap them on and Audrey smiles her approval. “Every guy there is going to be checking you out.”
I turn away from the mirror, unsure what to think. Maybe I look better, but I wish I didn’t care so much. Mirrors are still a trap, even now that I don’t hate what I see there.
Audrey looks great, as usual. She’s always been way more comfortable in her own skin. I’m not there yet, but I don’t change out of the halter top.
It’s after nine by the time we leave. We take my lemonade and Audrey’s beer and head out into a perfect end-of-summer night. The hot day has cooled to a comfortable temperature, and my mood has mellowed into something soft and malleable. Anything could happen tonight. Already I’ve done things I’d never have done, so what’s to stop me from doing more?
Wearing Audrey’s shoes doesn’t hurt. I feel about ten feet tall, like I could step over an ocean with one stride, and the guys we pass as we head down the hill and into town definitely like what they see.
As we get closer to the party, people are streaming in one direction, and I’m relieved to see I know at least a few of them. But my calm starts to unravel when we enter the hot, crowded house. I’m terrible at making conversation with people I don’t know, and I hate trying to have fun. You’re either having it or you’re not.
Audrey’s slightly ahead of me, plowing through the crowd of people. She turns around to make sure I’m behind her, and she must see something on my face.
“You’re going to be fine. Trust me.”
I get some nods and interested looks as I push through the crowd, and I smile back. At least I think I do. It’s possible I’m doing the thing where I think I’m smiling but actually my mouth barely moves. Audrey once shuddered when she saw it.
“What was that?” she asked. “You look like a creepy doll.”
“Fine, then, no more smiling,” I told her, thoroughly embarrassed.
“You just need to practice in a mirror so you can see what you’re putting out there.”
“You’re not serious.”
She stared me down. “Do I look like I’m joking? Smiling is an essential skill.”
“I smile all the time.”
“Of course you do. But I’m talking about smiling at men when the situation calls for it. If you were a baboon, you’d flash your rosy red ass.”
I actually did try to practice smiling once after that, but I felt like such a jerk I ended up making faces at myself instead. Now here I am among the baboons, as clueless as ever.
Making our way back to the kitchen, we set our drinks on the counter. Once in there I see a few people from the dorm, including Ishaan and Derek. I catch sight of Todd, too. He smiles at me, and his smile gets even bigger when he sees Audrey.
“I just spotted Todd. He’s heading over.”
She sighs. “Oh.”
“What’s wrong? You like him.”
“Sure, but he’s probably not going to leave my side all night. If I’d wanted to hang out with just him, I wouldn’t have come here.”
“Hey, Hannah,” Todd says—or rather yells—as he reaches us. “You look amazing,” he says to Audrey.
She gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”
Jen arrives with some friends, and soon other people I know show up. It’s all perfectly normal, not at all the stress-fest I feared it would be. Casey shows up sometime later, his arrival noticeable because so many people shout at him. He stops when he sees me.
“Hey, you made it!” he says, looking genuinely pleased. “Hey, guys,” he says, glancing over at everyone else. Then he’s gone, sucked into the crowd.
“I didn’t know you were friends with him,” Jen says, her tone just shy of accusing.
“He’s on our floor.”
She moves off toward another group of people, and Audrey and I exchange a look. I feel for Jen, but she really has to get over it. Hopefully I won’t get grilled about this.
I drink another lemonade and before long finding a bathroom becomes urgent. I fight through the crowd, but the line at the first-floor bathroom is so long, I decide to try upstairs. I’m just about to head up when I spot Casey kissing a girl—not Jess—against a wall, half in shadow.
I stare, unable to take my eyes from the sight of them. Her eyes are closed, her head tipped back for him, her arms around his neck. He’s kissing her with such slow, delicious thoroughness, I feel my own insides soften and melt.
No wonder Casey’s in such demand. I’ve never seen anything so erotic in my entire life.
I don’t know how long I stand there, but at some point, a guy bumps into me and I realize I could be caught watching them. With great effort I tear myself away and climb the stairs to wait in line, but the kiss plays on a loop in my brain. Casey and the girl are gone by the time I come back down, and the disappointment that washes over me makes me think I’ve turned into some kind of pervert.
I make my way into the kitchen, relieved to find my lemonade still in the fridge. When I turn around, Eric Wesolowski is standing there.
“Hey, Hannah. Long time no see.”
I move out of the way so he can get into the fridge. Eric and I had a lab together last year, but we didn’t talk much. I’m surprised he even knows my name. I’m not sure if I should try to talk to him or head back into the party. He’s good-looking, but he had a really annoying habit of questioning Professor Stein about everything, like he needed to prove how smart he was.
He grabs a beer and closes the door, then looks me up and down in a way that I should probably find offensive, but for some reason I don’t. Maybe it’s the novelty of it.
I take a swig of my lemonade. “Are you still interning for Toomey?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I can’t stand her, but it looks good on my résumé.”
“Really? I thought everyone liked her.�
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“Trust me, she’s a first-class bitch.”
I love Professor Toomey, and I can’t help wondering if Eric has a problem with women. I should go find my friends, but something holds me back. I suppose it’s the blatant interest in his eye. I want to experience it longer, see what happens. That’s what I’m here for, after all.
Someone turns the music up even louder, and we end up yelling to be heard over the hip-hop mix.
Eric downs half his bottle in one swallow. “Let’s find someplace else to talk.”
Grabbing my hand, he starts to lead me out of the kitchen just as Audrey comes in.
“Oh, hi. I was wondering where you were.” She looks from me to Eric and back again. “You good?”
I nod.
“I’ll be in there,” she says, pointing toward the front room.
I wish I could have a quick consultation with her, but there’s no way to manage it. “I’ll come find you,” I tell her, just as Eric takes my hand and starts to drag me away.
He leads me through another room to an enclosed porch at the back of the house. There’s a group of people talking and smoking in the back yard near another door, but otherwise it’s private and way quieter.
“That’s better,” he says, letting go of my hand. He drains the rest of his beer. “You look seriously hot.”
Now that we’re out of the noise and crush of the kitchen, it’s dawning on me that he’s drunker than I realized. His eyes look bleary and his smile isn’t quite right, plus he’s still talking really loudly and leaning in too close.
I take a few more gulps of my drink to settle down, and my mind wanders back to the kiss I witnessed. This is my chance to find out what that’s like.
Eric runs his hand up my arm. He’s definitely going to kiss me, and despite how unexpected this is, I want him to. Finally, I’ll know what I’ve been missing.
I expect him to work up to it, but his mouth is suddenly on mine, his tongue pushing to get in. I open my mouth and kiss him back, but I can’t figure out how to make it work right. There’s no rhythm, and I don’t know what I should be doing. My heart starts to race, and I’m trying not to be grossed out by the way his tongue nearly gags me. It gets worse when he shoves me against the wall and I feel his hard-on.
I can’t breathe, and now I’m trapped against him. I don’t understand why he can’t tell something’s wrong. I try to turn my head away and break the kiss, but he doesn’t let me, doesn’t seem to get that I need to breathe. The pressure in my lungs builds, like I’m underwater with no way to the surface. His breath is stale and hot, his saliva wet on my chin. It’s even worse when he grabs my breast. Nausea roils my stomach, and for a second I think I might throw up. I go completely still, willing myself not to feel anything. Maybe if I don’t move, he’ll stop.
He doesn’t.
I try not to make any noise because I don’t want anyone to hear, but I can’t help the whimper that comes out. I start to struggle and push on his chest, and he still doesn’t stop for what seems like ages.
Finally he staggers back a step. “Shit, Hannah. What’s the deal? You kiss like a twelve-year-old.”
I don’t say anything. Shame fills me so completely, and even with him off me I’m still freaked out.
He looks at me like he doesn’t know why he wasted his time. “Whatever. I’ll see you around.”
He walks into the house without a backward glance. I stand there, dazed, trying to understand what just happened. The people in the other rooms and outside are simultaneously too far away and too close, the music loud but incomprehensible. I bend over, unable to catch my breath, and my vision goes gray.
I have to get out of here before I puke or cry. I can’t go back into the house, can’t let anyone see me like this.
Pushing open the door to the backyard, I run down the stairs and past the group standing in a pool of light.
“Hannah?”
I don’t stop or even look back. I just keep going until I’m on the other side of the house and heading down the driveway.
“Hannah, wait up.”
I turn around and see Casey frowning in concern as he comes toward me. I thought my humiliation was complete, but it turns out I was wrong.
“I’m fine,” I call back over my shoulder, walking faster. “Go back to the party.”
“Not until I make sure you get home okay.”
I don’t argue, because that would mean looking at him and letting him see I’m upset. It takes everything I have to keep moving forward, so we don’t talk the rest of the way. Casey catches up and stays next to me, close enough that when I stumble, which I do several times, he can steady me with a hand on my elbow. Maybe I should be grateful there’s someone here looking out for me, but the last thing I want is him witnessing me at my lowest.
The walk takes forever, and I get sicker with every second that passes. By the time we reach the dorm I’m chilled and sweating, my stomach cramping. I manage to make it up the first two flights of stairs, but on the third flight I sink down onto a step, close my eyes and lean my head against the wall.
“I’m just going to rest here for a minute,” I say, hoping now he’ll leave me alone.
Casey sits down beside me, his presence comforting despite the fact that I still wish him gone.
“What happened back there?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low.
I shake my head, but I can feel my lower lip start to quiver.
“You’re really starting to worry me.”
His concern is making it harder to keep it together. I don’t want to tell him, but I need to get it out. I open my eyes, but I don’t look at him. I’m not really looking at anything.
“I ran into Eric Wesolowski. And he…I could tell he was going to kiss me, and I wanted to see what it was like. That was the whole point.” I stop, confused about what I’m saying. I’m not supposed to tell Casey how I wanted to kiss someone. “I let Audrey put makeup on me and I wore her sexy top, and we thought it looked pretty good. But then he kissed me and it was awful. I couldn’t breathe, and I tried to get him off me but he wouldn’t stop.”
Casey goes rigid beside me. “I’m sorry, Hannah. He sounds like a real dick.”
“He doesn’t even like Professor Toomey, and everyone likes her. He also told me I kiss like a twelve-year-old.” I don’t mean to say it, but I can’t seem to stop telling him things.
“That’s just stupid. He was only saying that to—”
“I’ve never kissed anyone before tonight, so that part’s probably true.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, probably because he’s in shock. I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall again, so I don’t have to see his face. We sit there, not saying a word, and I start to doze off.
His hand is on my shoulder, shaking me, and his voice is soft, cajoling but somehow firm. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s just a little farther.”
I start to protest, but the sound of footsteps coming up from the first floor finally rouses me. I can’t let anyone else see me like this, so I let him help me up, and I even lean on him a little as we climb the last two flights. I’m almost to my door when my stomach clenches in pain. I catch a glimpse of Casey’s surprised expression before I rush past him down the hall and into the bathroom, where I kneel on the cold tile and hurl into the toilet. I’m in there at least ten minutes, waiting to make sure nothing else is coming up, and then I slowly get to my feet.
I wash my hands and face and rinse my mouth out. I’m pale as death, my eyes dull, my careful makeup smudged. I look about a hundred years old.
When I come out, I stop in surprise at the sight of Casey still waiting by my door. Mortification floods me at the thought of what I must look like, what he must think. He didn’t ask to be stuck with some gross girl he barely knows
.
“You don’t have to worry,” I tell him, my voice hoarse from throwing up. “I’m fine now.” My hand trembles as I slide my key in the door.
He follows me through the common room and into my bedroom. “Does Audrey know you left the party?”
I shake my head. Audrey probably won’t be worried yet. I haven’t been gone that long, and she thinks I’m having a good time with Eric.
I take my phone out of my purse, which luckily, I managed to keep on me. No messages, so she must not have run into Eric yet. I text her that I came home and set the phone on my desk. Then I sink onto the bed, wishing this night would end without me having to think about that kiss again.
“You should drink some water.”
I do as he says, glugging water from the bottle beside my bed. My brain and body have gone numb, or maybe just detached from reality. I stare at my feet, which look miles away. If only I could get my sandals off, I could climb into bed and be done with this night.
Casey kneels on the floor and unties my sandals without a word, setting them side by side next to my bed. “You should rest. I’ll stay here until Audrey comes back.”
“You don’t have to wait around,” I croak. “I’m fine, and Audrey will be back soon.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, dragging the chair out from my desk.
“That girl’s gonna be mad you left.”
“What girl?”
“The one you were kissing.”
For a second he looks almost embarrassed. “Oh, right. Yeah, she probably is pretty steamed, but I’ll go back and find her. Don’t worry about it.”
I close my eyes, and instead of thinking about Eric, I see Casey lip-locked with that girl. I doze off, waking when Audrey comes through the door a little while later, so out of breath she can barely speak.
She looks from me lying in bed with the covers up to my chin to Casey, her face stricken. “What happened?”
Casey stands up and pushes the chair back into the desk. “She was upset when she left the party, so I walked her home. She can tell you what happened.” He looks down at me with an expression that seems almost tender. “Sleep well, Hannah.”
