by Ann, Becca
“What?”
“Nothing, I forget.”
Liar.
“Hayles…”
She pretends to zip her lips, but then her mouth splits open into a real smile.
“Fine. But I’ll get it outta ya sooner or later.”
Cocking her head to the side, she moves her gaze to the floor. “Hey, Brody? Where are you from?”
“What?”
“Your accent. I’ve always been curious about it.”
I smirk. “I lived in Oklahoma for a while. Probably where I got it from.”
“That’s way awesome! Any of your other family have accents too?”
“Just my brother. Mom’s from here.”
“Oh, so what about your dad?”
I forget sometimes she’s only known me for a little while. That she doesn’t know that mentionin’ bio-dad sets my body on fire. But with her, I don’t mind talkin’ about it.
“Yeah, that’s where my mom and dad met. When they got divorced, we moved to Oregon.”
“Wait, so do you have a step-dad? Or is it just you and your mom?”
“Step-dad. They’ve been married for a while now.”
She starts twisting her fingers, cracking them. Don’t know if it’s ‘cause of the conversation or ‘cause of the tattoo still, but she’s way nervous.
“You like him?”
I give her a big smile when she looks at me. “He’s cool. More of a dad than my real dad was.”
“That’s awesome.” She stops cracking her knuckles. “What’s it like in Oklahoma? I haven’t been anywhere. Lived in the same house my whole life and only been to the major cities around here, but not often. Like, this tattoo shop is a vacation for me.”
“Oh, should I bring in some Slippery Nipples?” Marisa laughs at her own joke, Hayles cracking up with her, but I think it’s more of the nerves comin’ into play.
“You know alcohol isn’t good for tatts,” London says as he straps on his gloves and takes a seat next to me. He shows me a couple of designs, and I probably should be payin’ more attention to him, but I’m watching Hayles try to sit still while Marisa talks her through everything. Then she has her pull her shirt off her shoulder, and I’ve lost all train of thought.
London snaps in front of my face.
“Yo!”
Whoops.
“You okay with this one?” He’s smirking at me.
I think I say yes, but I don’t really get a good look. I trust London, even though he’s been checkin’ out Hayles’ tits this entire time.
He presses the stencil on my wrist, tugs off slowly, and yeah, it’s cool lookin’, so I don’t tell him nevermind or anythin’.
I hear Marisa’s gun go on, and she leans over Hayley’s back. “Try to relax, okay, hot stuff?”
Hayley nods, takes a glance at me, throwing out a scared smile. Two seconds later, the needle pierces the skin on her shoulder.
Her mouth pops open, but no sound comes out. She shuts her eyes real tight and starts mouthing something, but I can’t figure out what she’s sayin’.
We’re all quiet, except for the buzzing from the tatt guns. My wrist burns, but I’m distracted enough to not really notice. I can’t keep my eyes off Hayley’s face, her skin, the way she’s keepin’ it together even though I know it hurts like hell.
“Brody?” Her eyes open. “Distract me please?”
I chuckle, tryin’ to keep my wrist still. “You want me to sing more Katy Perry?”
Her laughter bursts from her strained mouth, like she’d been holding her breath this whole time.
“Okay, tell me another one.”
“What?”
“Tell me another joke.”
I get an evil look from Marisa who’s trying to keep Hayley still through all the giggles. Too bad. Hayles could ask me anythin’ and I’d do it. She’s got me.
“Should I rhyme words with ‘fart’?”
She laughs again, relaxing under the needle. “I think we covered all those words.”
“Did you mention ‘shart’?” Marisa asks, stifling her own laughter and taking the gun away from Hayley’s skin.
Both Hayles and I go into hysterics. London and Marisa have to wait for us to calm down enough to keep still.
“Didn’t realize we were inking twelve-year-olds,” Marisa says with a grin. Hayley throws me a look that gets my stomach twisted. Yeah, I like havin’ inside jokes with her too.
Both our tatts only take about thirty-five minutes. I pay for both—because this is a date!—and ignore all of Hayley’s protests and reassurance that she’ll ‘totally pay me back’.
I wait till we’re in the car to ask, “Can I see it?”
Her shirt’s still hangin’ off her shoulder, but she’s twisted in a way that I can’t make out her new ink. At first I think she’s goin’ to say no, but then she brushes her hair off her neck and turns, so I can get a good look.
I can feel the heat coming from her, but I’m not sure if it’s ‘cause I’m makin’ her nervous or if it’s ‘cause she’s just been stabbed a million times. The tatt is pretty hot. All right, really hot. So hot I have to adjust myself. Never thought I’d be into a girl who had ink, but lookin’ at the smoke lines from the flower going across her shoulder blade and almost touching her neck, dude, I want to run my fingers over it.
I don’t. I learned my lesson.
“Is it that bad?”
I gulp. “No, i-it’s… nice.”
Ugh. Lamest compliment ever.
She cranes her neck, resting her chin on her shoulder, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. “I guess that’s good.”
“Uh huh.”
Just like that, I’m leanin’ in to kiss her.
And she leans back, face going as red as mine probably is. “Um, what are you doing?”
Okay, okay, I should give her the benefit of the doubt here. She’s never been kissed, so maybe she doesn’t know what it looks like.
No, that’s stupid. Of course she knows what I was doin’. And she doesn’t want me to.
Crap.
“Sorry, you uh, have an eyelash.” And I had to get it off with my lips.
“Oh!” A huge breath escapes her mouth, punching me in the face. I’m a cocky butt, ‘cause I expected shock, hesitation, maybe a ‘I’m not ready yet for that’, but not… relief.
Because I can’t deal with another rejection, I snap on my seatbelt and start the car, then do a burnout from the parking lot.
Hayley’s quiet, not singing or playing with the radio. I don’t know how that makes me feel ‘cause maybe the tension in the air will finally make her get it. But, still, I feel like a jerk for throwin’ a fit over it and makin’ her uncomfortable on her birthday. And her first date.
Crap.
“Hey, so you hungry?” I smile, a really big and probably creepy looking smile.
She breaks the tension, another huge breath going out her mouth. “Starving.” Then she hits the radio and puts her feet on the dash.
Even though I kind of want to, I can’t stay mad at her. She’s never led me on or anythin’. Been pretty clear about where I stand with her.
I’m just pissed at myself I guess.
Reason 16: You make me feel all that gooey shit crap I’m supposed to feel
Despite that awkward moment in the car, I’m able to just chill with Hayles the rest of the night. After tossing straw wrappers at each other, she dumped the entire salt shaker in my drink. I’m not talkin’ about taking the lid off and pouring salt in it, but grabbin’ the salt shaker and plopping it in the glass. Waitress wasn’t too happy, but I was rolling.
After the restaurant—and Hayles stabbing me with her fork when I went after her croutons—she drug me into a grocery store and we picked pretend fights when people walked down the aisle we were in. She bought me a Coke to make up for the one she ‘salted’, and we drove around for about an hour doin’ nothing but talkin’ about the different ways to say ‘Hell’.
“Sometimes I sa
y, ‘what the h?’ just like ‘WTF’. People don’t always get it though.” She shrugs.
“And they get ‘holy horse feathers’?” I chuckle as she punches me in the arm.
Pulling into her driveway, I snap off the headlights even though she didn’t ask me to this time. I wish I wasn’t out of money and gas. I’d keep her out all night.
She clicks the seatbelt, and I bolt around the car to beat her to the door. She laughs as she steps out.
“Thanks, Brody.”
“Uh huh.”
I close the door and walk her up the porch. Part of me wonders if she’ll notice I’m takin’ her to the front door, which she’s never allowed before, but she turns around and leaps into my arms so fast again, I’m almost knocked on my back.
“I mean it. Thank you,” she says against my cheek. “I told you I haven’t had the best track record with birthdays, and well, this was the best one I’ve had.”
What is this girl doin’ to me? I squeeze her back, wishing I could keep her locked in my arms forever, but I won’t. The second she gets uncomfortable, I’ll let go.
She loosens her grip, but doesn’t jump away from me. That gives the bruised ego an icepack. Her fingers linger on the tatt on my wrist, and it itches like crap. Not goin’ to tell her to stop though.
“Hey, Hayles?”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Sup?”
I smile. “Can I… I mean, can we go out again?”
“Like as friends?”
No.
I gulp. “Another date. I want to…” Grr, why is this so hard? “I want to be with you, Hayley.”
I can’t read her expression. She takes a step back, not touchin’ me. I’ve never seen her bite her lip, so when it tucks between her teeth I have no idea what it means.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to be with me? Is this some kind of pity thing? Because I’m not interested.”
Is she for real? “Hayles, you’re killin’ me!” I’m not sure what it is. The left over anger from dealin’ with Gabe, or the nerves I’ve had all night just tryin’ to get the words out, but suddenly I’m sayin’ things I’d never—and boy do I mean never—thought I’d say.
“I’ve been tryin’ all night with you. It’s hard enough puttin’ myself out there, but even harder when I gotta explain myself, but if you need to hear why, then I’ll tell you.” I take a deep breath and grab her hand. I’m not going to let her shake me off this time. “I like you, all right? I want to date you not out of pity, but because I… I need to. Hayles, I can’t get you off my mind.”
There it is.
Just like that, I’ve vomited all my gushy feelings all over her.
And she’s just staring at me.
Staring and sort-of smiling.
I don’t want one of her sort-of smiles. I want a real Hayles smile. The one that makes her eyes crinkle in the corners.
“W-what about Quynn?” she finally says, her voice just above a whisper.
“I told you. I’m not… she’s not… I don’t feel that way about her anymore.”
Her eyes drop to our hands, and she blows out a huge breath. “Holy jumping jellybeans, Brody. When did this happen?”
I chuckle, and it relieves some of the tension in my chest. “What do you mean?”
“I’m trying to rewind here. Find out what exactly was the turning point. What did I do to make you feel like this?”
Ah hell, so many things. Too many things to list. I like everythin’ about this girl. How can she not see how freakin’ awesome she is?
“You’ve got one heck of a personality, Hayles. Plus…” Say it Brody. You’re on a roll. “You’re gorgeous.”
My face is red, I’m sure of it, but it can’t be anywhere near the shade of hers.
I’ve so got this. Don’t know why I was so nervous, or why I thought it would be harder than this to convince her. I mean, she looks so…
Wait a minute.
Her eyes are getting watery.
What did I say?
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask as I take a step closer to her.
Tears pour down her cheeks as she shakes her head toward the ground.
There’s no way I’m just going to stand here and let her cry. I take her in my arms and hold her. The tension is back in my chest, but it feels good that she’s allowin’ me to touch her like this. She sobs into my shirt, but doesn’t wrap her arms around me. I’m okay with that, even though I have no idea what’s going on.
“Hayles, did I say something wrong?” I ask over her head.
She shakes her head, and her voice muffles in my shirt. “Brody, I-I can’t believe you.”
“What do you mean?”
She pushes away from me and sucks in a large breath. “I can’t believe everything you’re saying to me. I-I’m not going to.”
Not sure how to react. Part of me wants to drop it all, forget getting Hayles and go back to Quynn. That’s a prick of a thing to say, still, can’t help but feel it’d be easier.
Thinkin’ about it though, I couldn’t do that. At all. The whole time I’d be with Quynn—hypothetically, of course, since that won’t happen either—I’d want to be with Hayley. And that’s a Gabe thing, not a Brody thing.
I’m a fighter too. And I’ll keep fighting until she gets a restrainin’ order.
“Why not?” Rejection sucks. I should at least know why she keeps pushin’ me off. “I get it if you’re not into me. Just say the ‘friend’ word, and I won’t bring it up again.”
“That’s not it.” She sniffs and brushes her hair off her shoulder. “It’s just… what happens when Quynn finally comes around?”
“Huh?”
“Brody…” She plops on the porch, and I take a seat next to her. “Did you forget what I told you about Jason? About why I set the rules upfront?”
“I remember.”
“Then why are you doing this to me? Are you really that mean?”
What the hell?
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m not going to be the girl you use while you wait for the girl to give you the time of day. I thought you were better than that.”
She thinks I’m using her? I repeat. What. The. Hell?
“I’m not like that.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re saying you actually want to be with me, when you could have someone like her? Yeah, okay.”
I’m starting to get pissed. This girl doesn’t get it. Doesn’t get how amazin’ she is. How much I’ve been panting over her since we started hangin’ out. How many times I chose her over Quynn already.
“I told you, I don’t want Quynn. I want you.”
She cocks an eyebrow, folding her arms and leaning on her knees. “And how many times did you think about her tonight?”
I do a mental checklist ‘cause I want to be honest. Thought about her before I got to Hayley’s house, but I was also thinkin’ about Hayles. Other than that…
“I didn’t.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off.
“I didn’t, Hayles. You were the only thing on my mind.”
She falls on her knees, her hair covering her face and exposing her new ink. Her back goes up and down with each deep breath she takes. Wish I knew what she was thinkin’. Maybe this is just an excuse ‘cause she doesn’t look at me the way I want her to.
I’m a fool. All this time she was dodgin’ my touch and avoiding the compliments was because she didn’t want to lead me on. Not ‘cause of her insecurities. But ‘cause she doesn’t want me the same way I want her.
Now I feel like shit. Should’ve just taken the first rejection and left it alone.
“I-I get it if you don’t want to… I mean if I’m not your type or anythin’.” Crap, gotta wipe the sweat off my palms. It’s startin’ to sting the cuts on my knuckles. “Just thought you needed to know how I felt about you.”
“Gosh, Brody. That’s. Not. It.” Her head tilts up.
“I’ve been trying… I mean really trying not to get all gushy ga-ga over you. It’s not the easiest thing in the world. I had to keep pushing myself away from you, keep telling myself that all the stuff you were doing was because you were my friend. All the hand holding and smiling and looking hecka hot was because that’s just who you are. You want Quynn. That’s what I keep telling myself.”
She takes a breath, finally lookin’ me in the eyes. “You deserve someone like her anyway. Someone who’s… beautiful.”
“You are b—”
“You know what I mean.” Her hands cover her stomach. A tear strolls down her cheek. “I’m fat, all right. Don’t argue with me because I’m not stupid. I see the way people look at me, and I hear what they say. You and I… we just won’t make sense. People won’t understand it.” She pauses. “I don’t understand it.”
Okay, so she doesn’t want me to argue, but no way am I agreeing with her on the fat thing. I take her hands in mine, playing with her fingers. She’s shakin’, I’m shakin’, and the weird thing is, I’m not nervous. Not now. Not after she told me exactly what’s stopping her. This, I can deal with, because she’s wrong.
“All right, so even if you were fat, which you’re not, why would it matter? Why can’t we be together if we feel the same things for each other?”
She shakes her head, more tears dropping from her eyelashes as she blinks. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone choose the fat girl over the skinny one?” She grips my hand and stares me down. “You tell me that, and maybe… maybe I can allow myself to feel the things I want to feel for you.”
“You want reasons why you and not Quynn?” I don’t want her to think I’m sayin’ she’s fat, so I add, “Why I want a gorgeous and crazy funny girl I just met instead of the one I’ve been lookin’ at for a while?”
Her cheeks flush, and she scoots closer. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want.”
Great! I have this in the bag. I can list a million things right now.
“Okay, reason one—”
“No. I want you to write them down for me. Give me time to process all this, and you to make sure they’re good.” She smiles. A real Hayley smile.
“Yes, ma’am!” I salute, and she punches me in the arm. Just like that, we’re back in the ‘friend’ arena. Friend arena with potential.
