Paper or Plastic

by Vivi Barnes

  And he wasn’t laughing at me. Not even a little. I smiled then, and Noah’s face lit up. It occurred to me how infrequently I’d seen his smile lately. I’d missed it, and not only that, I’d missed the immediate reaction my body had to it.

  Several kids came out to the pool, shouting and laughing and splashing into the water. It turned into a kid free-for-all, so we walked hand in hand back through the pool area into the hotel. I found myself wishing there was somewhere else to go, but the industrial area and nearby construction didn’t exactly offer great opportunities for a walk. Noah didn’t drop my hand, even when we got into the elevator.

  “Floor?” he asked.

  “Four.”

  “Me, too.” He punched the button. As the doors closed and the elevator started humming its way up, our proximity to each other in the small space became much more apparent. I gazed up at him; his eyes were already on me. In the gentle whirr of the elevator, we stared at each other.

  It was right then, as the space between heartbeats decreased just enough for me to notice, that I realized something about Noah Grayson. It wasn’t just a good friend vibe or even a simple attraction. It was a tickle that began in my stomach and slowly spread throughout my body. Whatever this was, it left no doubt in my mind that I felt much more than “just friends” with him. Regardless of the trouble it’d surely cause for me with Bryce, and of the Friend Zone that Noah kept trying to shove me in, I was falling hard for this guy. Although from the way his eyes stayed on me, I had a feeling he was right there with me.

  We got out of the elevator and walked down the hallway together, stopping at my door. “Mine’s back there,” he said, nodding the way we came.

  Then came the inevitable awkward moment of standing there, not knowing what to say or do. I had this really strong desire to kiss him. His eyes slid down to my mouth. I stepped forward—just a tiny step, but it was enough. His head bowed as his hand moved to my waist, his touch setting my skin on fire. My eyes closed…

  The slam of a nearby door snapped them open again. We jumped apart as a woman walked past us, chuckling softly. Another door down the hall opened and some kids ran past, yelling. What the hell—now this floor would be busy?

  “All the kids who aren’t in the pool must be in this hallway,” he muttered as another couple of girls ran out of the elevator, followed by their tired-looking mothers.

  “Apparently.” I pulled out my room key as the noise level around us increased. It was almost like we were the players in some sadistic game—How Many Potentially Mind-Blowing Moments Can Be Destroyed By Pageant People. “Guess I’ll see you in the morning?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  The three words were simple, but they shot a thrill of promise through me. He still hadn’t confided in me, but I knew it was just a matter of time now. And a matter of time before he’d kiss me. I couldn’t handle many more of these near-misses.

  I opened the door, closing it behind me softly. The room was dark except for the soft light in the corner where my mother was reading. She lifted a finger to her lips and nodded toward the bed, where Rory was sleeping. I nodded, hoping my madly beating heart wasn’t audible to anyone else but me, and moved into the bathroom to splash water on my face.

  Noah Grayson. He was my boss. An outsider. Bryce’s archenemy. Always so closed off to me. How could I possibly like this guy, much less fall for him?

  But underneath all my excuses and questions and worries was one simple truth.

  I liked him…

  …and more than that.

  Much more.

  18

  My favorite part of pageants was…well, nothing. From the time the sun came up, my mother became Queen Bee of Pageantry, and Rory was her little princess. Poor Rory had to stand in the tub while my mother sprayed fake tan all over her body. Or maybe poor wasn’t the word for her, considering she kept telling my mother to spray more, more, and more. I finally took the bottle away and called enough.

  After applications of blue eye shadow, fake eyelashes, sparkly body glitter, pink frou-frou dress, and a huge poofy wig, not to mention episodes of “You’re not doing this right—you’re not doing that right,” we were ready to go downstairs. Rory had mentally changed into Princess Aurora and was enjoying ordering us around, whereas I, her lowly servant, was ready to throw a chair out the window.

  “She looks gorgeous,” my mother gushed as Rory twirled around.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “She looks like a birthday cake.”

  She ignored that comment. “Grab those bags and hurry up. We’re supposed to be down in a few minutes, and they’ll deduct points if we’re late.”

  We shuffled out the door with arms loaded with bags of makeup, costumes, and other crap as Princess Aurora stepped in front of us like she owned the hallway. Get in line, I wanted to tell her as other little girls paraded out into the hallway with the same air. We passed Noah’s closed door, but I was sure they were already downstairs for the three-year-old competition.

  We registered at a table set up in the hallway outside the conference rooms. My mother announced Rory’s name importantly, accepted her credentials, then migrated over to another table that had a banner of a national television network.

  “Look at this,” she said, tisking at a flier that announced casting calls for an extreme couponing show. “Like anyone really wants to put themselves on TV for that?”

  I thought of my experience with the savage coupon lady at SmartMart. She would probably jump at the chance to show everyone how to save an obscene amount of money with an obscene amount of coupons.

  “Oh, look, Alexis,” she said, moving to the next flier. Her voice was lighter and much more enthusiastic. “Pageant Moms is looking for people to participate in their show.”

  Pageant Moms was a reality show about pageant girls and their families. My grandma used to love watching it, mostly so she could point out what horrible parents the mothers were. I could practically see the wheels churning in Mom’s head, so I pulled her away quickly.

  “No, Mom. No.” More like hell no.

  The conference room for the pageant was large, which was good because it needed a huge amount of space to be able to fit all the massive wigs. Every little girl seemed to be sporting them, even the two-year-olds. Like a toddler would have that much hair in the first place.

  There was another room adjacent to the room that actually held the pageant where the girls could get prepared for the next step. There was a table of fruit and pastries laid out, too, and I noticed some plates piled high. I shook my head as one woman smacked her daughter’s hand for trying to add a pastry to her plate. When her daughter turned around, her mother took the pastry instead.

  The camera crews were set up in the corner. Several women were hovering around them with their kids, obviously hoping to get noticed. Rory would probably migrate to the cameras, too. She loved being on video. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being filmed at one of these things—or anywhere, actually. Even when parents showed up to softball games with video cameras, I had to block them out or I’d end up walking the batter.

  I spotted Belle and was really glad to see her soft, natural curls cascading down to her shoulders. At least she wasn’t sporting a wig. Noah was on his knees next to her, smiling as he tickled his sister. I walked over to them.

  “Belle’s group starts in a few minutes,” he said. “Want to come or do you have to hang out here?”

  “Sure, I’ll watch.”

  I tried telling my mother I was going to watch some of Belle’s age group, but she waved me away. Her eyes were on the cameras in the corner, and she was encouraging Rory to finish eating her fruit so they could go have a look. Good for me for me—the less questions the better.

  I went with Noah to watch Belle line up with the other three-year-old girls. She was by far the most beautiful with her dark hair twirled in yellow bows and her large blue eyes. Noah clapped and cheered proudly as she stepped up the stairs and turned slowly so the judges
could see her bright yellow cupcake dress. The dress that looked ridiculous on the older girls looked sweet on her. She smiled widely and received loud cheers from the audience as she skipped off the stage to her mother.

  Rory’s age group went up next. A flurry of blue, pink, and green dresses twirled around the stage, all looking the same to me. Rory was in her favorite pink cupcake dress, her wig of curls massive on her head. But she smiled sweetly at the judges and did her walk the way my mother had her rehearse a hundred times. Everyone clapped as she curtsied. She glanced coyly over her shoulder as she walked off—a little too staged, I thought, but everyone seemed to eat it up. I had to admit, compared to the others in her age group, Rory was easily the most comfortable with all this. As much as she loved pageants, I could totally see her realizing my mother’s dream in the Miss America pageant someday.

  While the five-to-seven-year-olds finished their turn to a round of applause, a little girl next to me screamed at her mother that she wanted to go to the pool and not do any more “pageant stuff,” and her mother was yelling back that she’d better, since she paid all the money. That set off another little girl’s screaming.

  “I can’t take any more of this,” I grumbled to Noah as they announced the eight-to-ten division. He nodded and we left. I stopped in the “green” room next door, but my mother already had Rory talking to someone with a camera. I started toward them until I heard my mother say, “Yes, Aurora does have a sister…” I pivoted on my heel and darted out of the room as quickly as I could.

  Noah and I walked as far as we could to the other side of the conference center to get away from the craziness. Unfortunately, the other side wasn’t far enough, so even in the quietest corner we found we could still hear the high-pitched giggles from the girls and yelling from their mothers. This hotel was way too small.

  I lay down on the carpet and Noah stretched out next to me. He was close, though we weren’t touching. Just a few inches and we would be. I wondered what would happen if I accidentally stretched too far and let my hand brush against his. Would he take it? It was weird—last night we’d held hands and almost kissed. Why was this so difficult?

  As if in response to my question, a couple of kids chased each other down to our side of the conference center, laughing and yelling. They touched the wall and then ran back. With the pageant hammering at us from all sides, the memory of last night seemed almost surreal.

  “These things really suck,” I said, looking over at him. His profile was strong, his nose longer than most, but not in a bad way.

  “Agreed.”

  “I mean, even the name is stupid—Coastal Princess Pageant. Tallahassee’s nowhere near the coast. And I have to put up with a batshit-crazy mother while Rory turns into Princess Aurora and lords her royal self all over.”

  “The only reason I tolerate it is because of Belle.” He smiled. “But those other monsters…ugh. And I don’t mean the kids, either. Not that I’m talking about your family or anything,” he said quickly.

  I laughed. “It’s okay—my sister and mom get crazy, but nowhere near some of those people. Those women are so, like, ‘I don’t care if I’m pulling your hair. You better smile and like it!’”

  Noah raised his voice up to a shrill pitch, “Oh, yes, you will get spray-tanned so you can look unnaturally natural!”

  “I forgot your blush in the room. Pinch your cheeks until they bleed!”

  “Stick these spiders on your eyes so you can have nice, long eyelashes.”

  “Get yourself on camera ASAP. I want to make sure they know how horrible I am.”

  “You lost your front teeth? Put these fake teeth in so you can look like Great-Grandma.”

  I reached over to pucker his mouth with my hand. “Oh, but you’d look sooo cute with those pretty fake teeth. Sooo cute.”

  “Oh yeah? Well…” He turned on his elbow and pinched my cheek. “You need some color in those cheeks.”

  Our laughter died as we realized we were facing each other, arms entwined. The proper reaction might be to pull away quickly, but I didn’t.

  Noah’s eyes widened. Oh, boy. My heart hammering, I drew my arm back slowly, brushing against his. His hand caught mine as it passed. “Lex…”

  Without hesitating—without thinking, even—I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his. He tensed in surprise but immediately relaxed into the kiss. His lips were warm and soft on mine, a sweet kiss that lasted only a few seconds. I pulled back, knowing I was blushing and not giving two flying flips about it. Noah’s face sported this sexy smile as he studied me. I was the one who kissed him, and he was the one acting all confident about it. What the hell was up with that?

  Then I noticed he didn’t look worried anymore. Not even a trace of the reserved concern in his expression. He slid his fingers slowly down my arm, wrapping his hand over my wrist to pull me back to him. He jerked away when my phone started clanging.

  “Oh, shit,” I said, scrambling to pull it out of my pocket. “Sorry, it’s my mother’s ringtone. What?” I asked into the phone as I sat up, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

  “Where are you?” Her voice was high and screechy. I held the phone a few inches away as she continued to yell. “Rory needs her cowgirl costume for the talent competition, so get down here now.” I could hear Rory screeching in the background for Mom to call her Aurora.

  I pressed the end button. “Guess I better get back before she has a conniption.” I scrambled to my feet and Noah did the same. “Is there anything worse than a mother who’s into pageants? Seriously.”

  “Agreed.”

  By the time I made it back to the prep room, my mother was in what could only be described as a full-on tizzy. She yelled at me for taking my time. “Open the small red box and pull out a couple hair clips. And get the pink polish—she chipped her nail.”

  I was so ready to take all the bags of crap to the second floor of the hotel and toss them over the railing. But I followed my frantic mother into the crowded pageant room, the hodgepodge potpourri of perfume giving me a nasty headache.

  “I need to lie down,” I said to my mother. And by lie down, I meant escape this nut house completely. “I’m not feeling a hundred percent.”

  “But Aurora is about to go on. You don’t want to miss her cowgirl act, do you.” It wasn’t a question. But she did give me a Tylenol from her purse and rubbed the back of my neck.

  I sank into a chair as Rory lined up with the other kids and pressed my fingers to my temples while the girls pranced around the stage in various versions of sexy costumes. One girl was dressed in a glorified bikini and danced to a hip-hop song. I wondered if her mother realized what the lyrics were about. The woman stood just behind the judges, shaking her hips and waving her arms in front of her like a moron, trying to get her daughter to mimic the moves, while the music went on about the joys of stripping. The mom was about ten times more enthusiastic than her daughter.

  Finally, it was my sister’s turn, and my mother jumped up and waved at her. I watched as she did her lasso trick—consisting of her throwing the loop around a wooden “cow”—and, of course, shaking her hips to country music. She pointed her finger out to the crowd and nodded her head quickly in the typical pageant move that I never understood, my mother pantomiming her moves. Then her act was finished, and the crowd clapped enthusiastically.

  “Please, Mom, can’t I go up to the room for a bit? My head is killing me,” I said as Rory danced off the stage. Thankfully my mother was in a better mood now that this part was over.

  “Fine, fine,” she said, waving her hand. “Go lie down. Be back as soon as you can.”

  I walked away, nodding as I passed Belle and her mother. Noah wasn’t with them.

  As soon as I got out of the room, I literally ran all the way back to the elevator. It felt like escaping Alcatraz. One of the bellmen gave me a sympathetic look as he punched the fourth floor for me.

  “Pageant?” he asked. I nodded and rolled my eyes, to which he lau
ghed.

  I walked down the hallway, rubbing at my temples. A few doors from my room, I heard yelling. It sounded like it was coming from Noah’s room, but the voice wasn’t Noah’s.

  19

  “I KNOW YOU’RE HOLDING OUT ON ME, NOAH. WHERE’S THE MONEY?”

  Someone spoke in a lower voice. I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I backed against the wall, my heart racing. Was this Noah’s dad? Noah said he wasn’t here, so did he come here just to yell at him?

  “DON’T YOU TELL ME I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING FOR THIS FAMILY, YOU LITTLE SHIT! DON’T YOU CALL ME DRUNK.”

  There was a scrambling from inside and what sounded like something hitting the wall. I reached into my pocket to pull out my cell, not sure who I was going to call, but I couldn’t let this go on. Then the door opened and Noah appeared. He yanked the door shut behind him and took a deep breath, and only then did he see me, my phone in hand. He froze, his eyes wide.

  Neither one of us said anything for a long moment. His hair was a little on the wild side, like he’d shuffled his hands through it a few times. I stepped toward him but he stiffened, holding a hand up to stop me. I stopped. “Noah…”

  “Don’t. Go away,” he said roughly.

  “But—”

  He stepped forward. “Go away, Lex. Leave me alone.” His voice was sharp.

  He stalked toward the elevators. I went to my room and sat on my bed in the darkness, my headache forgotten. Noah has an abusive father? I hugged my knees to my chest. How could he be so calm all the time? Was his dad like that with his mom and Belle, too? Just the thought of anyone screaming at that sweet little girl made me sick to my stomach. And poor Noah…

  I gazed at my cell phone. Should I text him? Or maybe I should give him some space. Now it made sense why he had two jobs. He must be supporting his whole family. Did his father even work?

  Oh God. The last thing I told him was all about how having a pageant mom was the worst thing in the world. Maybe this was what he had been afraid to tell me and why he kept himself shut off most of the time.