by Anna Rezes
“Leah, your legs are fabulous in that one and Rochelle, that dress is amazing on you!” Samantha sighs, exhausted. “What do you girls think?”
Alison is the first to speak; although, I’m not sure she ever stopped. “I think you should stay with long. It’s elegant and the wedding is on New Year’s Eve. It’ll be cold.”
I can’t imagine the sheer fabric of the dress I’m wearing could keep anyone warm from the cold winter air, but I keep my smile in place and think positive thoughts.
“Turn around,” my sister orders me.
I spin, almost tripping over the length of the dress.
“I love how it dips in the back,” Alison continues. “I mean we probably won’t be able to wear much as far as undergarments go, but you have the perfect bridesmaids to do this. All of us are thin and we’ll all be dieting for the wedding anyway. If Emily looks good in it, then I’m sure it’ll look good on all of us.”
I swallow hard to keep from choking on her statement. The only reason Alison isn’t in a dress is that her size zero frame was “too petite and perfect”—her words, not mine—to try any of these dresses, which she made very clear, many, many times. I look to Rochelle, and she reciprocates my look of annoyance.
Monica speaks up, “That is true. Most bridal parties couldn’t pull off this style of dress. Now, I know we’re missing a bridesmaid today. Would she—”
“Oh, Eva is my size; she’ll look great,” Alison interrupts.
“Great!” Monica says. “What do you think Samantha?”
“I love it! Alison’s right! You girls are going to look phenomenal!”
“Then it’s settled,” Judy announces. “Let me grab my camera. I want a picture of the dress.” She bends over to get her camera from her purse.
I am mortified that I will be the one in the picture. I feel so exposed up top and wish I could be in any other place at this moment. “Do you want someone else to try it on before we get pictures?” I say, hoping it will allow me to escape.
“No, you look the best in it. The dress looks like it’s probably your size,” Judy says.
“Yeah, just a foot too long,” Leah chimes. “And we should probably make sure we all get mani-pedis before the wedding. We wouldn’t want Emily painting her own nails.” She draws everyone’s attention to my botched paint job. Alison and Judy chuckle while my sister is oblivious, but Rochelle’s look of concern bothers me the most. She’s feeling sorry for me and I hate that look. I am strong enough to deal with a little razing; I don’t need sympathy.
I continue my fake but pleasant smile. After all, Leah’s comment was tame, a kitten compared to the ravenous tiger I know her to be. Deep down I’m furious Leah will be Samantha’s sister-in-law. I don’t want her venom anywhere near my sister.
Judy starts snapping pictures of the dress as I try to rein in my fury. One by one we are measured and sized. Alison is the hardest to fit. She orders the smallest size, knowing the dress will need to be taken in. I can’t believe she made the dieting comment about herself. I’m sure it was intended for me, but I am thin enough and not about to diet to make her happy. Maybe I’ll put on a few pounds; that would piss her off.
They’re still in the middle of ordering Leah’s dress, but I’m going to be late, so I give my sister a quick hug before leaving for class.
I arrive in the parking lot with a few minutes to spare. When I enter the lecture hall early, I remember to look for Patrick so I can strategically sit far away from him, but I don’t see him anywhere. The professor is hobbling on his cane toward the podium as I take the same seat as the week before. I remove a notebook and pen from my bag as the professor begins his lecture.
A few minutes into class, I’m already cold. My book bag covers my legs, but the cold air is blowing directly from above. It becomes increasingly more frigid as the lecture progresses. Feeling the hair on my arms and legs rise, I check my phone only to discover a mere ten minutes have passed.
I do my best to focus on the lecture, but my mind wanders back to Ben. I can’t figure out what I’m going to do. Can we really stay friends if there are other feelings involved? Maybe it will be easier if we stay away from each other. He can get his life back on track and go off to that East Coast school his parents have been pushing for and I . . . I haven’t heard any voices since Tuesday. Hardly something in which to feel relief. It is just a matter of time.
“Hey, love,” I hear a sultry voice in my ear.
I freeze. I can’t believe it. The voices are back just like that.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” It’s a whisper.
Warm breath grazes my shoulder, and I flinch, spinning to see Patrick has taken the seat right next to me. He’s leaning precariously close. His beautiful eyes are watching me. I was too enthralled in my thoughts to notice him arrive. At least I’m not making it up in my head. Wait, what did he say?
“Hey, love,” he whispers. I watch his lips move. Why would he call me that? I’m not his love, and it’s not okay for him to sit next to me. He gently strokes his hand down my arm. “Are you cold?”
I jerk my arm away and whisper, “No!”
He’s doing it again, making me feel entirely mesmerized and irritated at the same time. I look back to the professor, remembering I’m in a classroom. A cold chill runs through me and I shiver.
“I’m only trying to be nice to you, you know.”
I shoot him an offensive look and turn to write in my notebook.
Shhh! In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in class!
Annoying me even further, he takes the notebook and pen. I stare at the professor, not hearing a word. After a moment, Patrick hands the notebook back for me to read.
I know you think I’m rude, but I know you better than you realize. I hope you’ll come over on the fourth. There are so many things we need to discuss. You look stunning today. I didn’t peg you for a pink dress kind of girl, but there are so many things about you I have yet to discover. You are beautiful, love. I hope you are well. I know you’re cold. I have a sweater in my bag. I would be delighted to lend it to you.
I turn to him as he offers the sweater. I decline, and Patrick snatches the notebook back and starts scribbling. He thinks he knows me. The thought is laughable. He hands it back.
If you put the sweater on, I won’t bother you again during class.
I deliberate for a moment and without looking I reach out. Instead of placing the sweater in my hand, he wraps it around my shoulders. I leave the sweater on, but I try to ignore him and stare toward the podium.
I take notes, but my mind is anywhere but on this lecture. As much as I hate that the sweater belongs to him, I am grateful to be warm. Eventually, I put my arms through the sleeves, hating how wonderful it smells. As his aroma surrounds me, I look down at my notebook and reread what he wrote.
He doesn’t know anything about me, and I don’t think I want him to. Is he hitting on me? Maybe, I need to be blunt with him, after all even Morgan is leery of his behavior.
“Do you want to stay here all day?”
I can’t believe he’s talking out loud during class, especially after he promised not to bother me again. I take in the room, realizing the students are making their way to the door. I was too caught up in my thoughts to notice class was over.
“He let us go a half hour early, love.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Whoa.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, Emily.”
“Thanks for the sweater,” I say, as I stand. I shrug out of it, hand it back to him, and grab my bag. “And really, you have no business calling me love.”
He smirks. “Fair enough. I’ll try my best to refrain.”
“Thank you,” I say, as I hurry past him and walk up the aisle toward the back of the room. Just as I reach the door, a smile slides across my face because all things considered this has been our most pleasant encounter.
“Wait, love, you forgot your notebook,” Patrick says, breaking my con
fident stride. He’s right at my ear. I hadn’t heard him come up behind me. The smile slips from my face, angry he couldn’t refrain from the little nickname for more than ten measly seconds. I turn to face him; only, he isn’t there.
Perplexed, I search the empty room. Patrick is still in his chair halfway down the lecture hall. My jaw drops. He’s not even facing me, yet I heard him so clearly. It wasn’t a shout, just a whisper. I take an involuntary step in his direction, wanting to know how this is possible. And the revelation hits me. It’s his voice I’ve been hearing. I don’t understand how he’s doing it, but it has to be him. I should’ve figured it out sooner. No one ever calls me love. No one, but him. But his mouth was unmoving when I heard the voice at the theater. A ventriloquist is the first thing that comes to mind, but he’s clear across the room from me, and it was a whisper.
I glide foolishly back down the aisle, stopping at his row. “What the hell?” I breathe, almost inaudible.
His smirk is gone. His lips don’t move, but I hear him whisper in my ear as if he’s inside my head. “I told you I know you better than you realize.”
Too freaked out to stand, I stagger into the seat at the end of the row. How is this possible? How am I hearing him inside my head? When he reaches for me, I push up from my seat to escape, but he catches my hand wheeling me around to face him.
He says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Stunned, I gawk at him for a second before responding, “I think that’s exactly what you wanted, to frighten and shock me. I don’t care why. I want to know how. How are you doing that?”
“You’ll understand soon, and then we can talk,” he says aloud.
“Tell me how, Patrick. How the hell are you doing this?”
He scoffs. “Honestly, love, I don’t understand how you’re not aware of your capabilities.”
Now I’m really pissed. “My what?”
“You’re oblivious. You have so much to learn.”
“Then explain it to me!”
“I wish I could, love, but that’s not my responsibility, and I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”
I don’t know what he means, but he’s genuinely scaring me. “You don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, yet you’re more than happy to screw with my head.” I try to rip my hand from his iron grip. “I’m not enjoying this little game of yours. I want you to stay away from me.”
“Liar,” he smirks. “You’re cute when you lie, but you’re terrible at it. We’ll need to work on that.”
“Listen, you’re freaking me out, and I don’t know what you think is going on here, but you’re wrong. Just leave me alone.”
He smiles. “I can’t do that, love,” his voice rumbles in my head.
“Don’t! Don’t do that. I have to go to class,” I say firmly, trying to remove his grip on my hand.
“I’ll give you some time,” he says, releasing me.
It takes a moment before my legs remember how to move. I walk out of the lecture hall wondering what the hell just happened. I try to compose myself as my mind reels with unanswered questions. I debate going back in to get an explanation, but I can’t. Running is my safer option, so I forget about my next class and drop my assignment in my teacher’s mailbox.
I drive home to change clothes and pick up Maggie to take her to the park. As soon as we’re on the trail, I unhook her leash. We hike ten miles through forest and shallow creeks before the sun begins to sink in the sky. The trees cast long shadows warning me of approaching darkness. My shoes are soaked through with water and dirt covers my legs from slipping down a steep hill. I’m sticky with sweat and I know it’s time to go home.
Dad is on the couch watching television when Maggie and I arrive home. He appraises me as I walk through the door and his expression turns to concern.
He sets his beer down. “Was shopping really that bad?”
I totally forgot about shopping, but I’m exhausted and don’t feel like explaining, so I nod.
“Where were you, Em? You look awful.”
“We went to the park and hiked one of the trails,” I explain.
“Looks like you fell off one of the trails.”
“That too.”
“I ordered a pizza,” he says, changing the subject.
“Okay, I’m just gonna go jump in the shower.”
After a long steamy shower, I slip into comfy pajamas and feed the dog. By the time I get to the living room, the pizza has arrived, and Dad is on his second slice. I grab a piece and take a big bite. As the pizza hits my tongue, nausea stabs through me making it difficult to swallow. I usually love this pizza, but between my worries over Ben and my confusion with Patrick, I’ve lost my appetite.
Dad’s watching a shoot’m up, explosive detective movie. Once the first movie ends, we watch the sequel. It’s brainless entertainment which is just what I need.
Dad clicks off the television, turns to me and says, “So what’s going on?”
“Huh?” I question.
“Come on, when is the last time you sat down and watched a movie with your dad?”
I think about it for a moment. “People are difficult,” I reply vaguely.
“This about Ben?”
“Not exactly, I just always thought guys were easy to understand, and now I don’t know what to think.”
“Is there another guy?” he asks.
“No, what do you mean another guy?”
“Well, you know your mom always had guys chasing her. It looks like she passed that on to you.” Then offhand, he says, “So your birthday is next week.”
He rarely mentions Mom, and now he has blown right past it like it’s nothing. He keeps talking when I don’t say anything.
“I figured you would be busy with your friends on your birthday, but I’d like to spend a little time with you, just the two of us.”
I nod, shaking off my surprise. “I’m going shopping Tuesday morning with Sam, but I should be home in the afternoon. Then I’m free the rest of the day.”
“Aren’t you hanging out with Ben?” he asks.
“He’ll be in Florida.”
“Okay, so the two of us on Tuesday,” he recaps, as he stands from the couch. He walks into the kitchen and calls for Maggie as he opens the back door.
I head to my room and am almost asleep by the time Maggie curls up at my feet. That’s the last thing I remember before my alarm startles me awake the next morning.
seven
Like every Friday, I work with Ashley all day. The morning creeps by, and I think Ashley’s mad at me for not giving her more details the other day. She’s still talking to me and pretending everything is fine, but she’s huffier and more impatient than usual. It’s a slow day, so I listen to her prattle on about the new guy she’s dating. He sounds like a jerk, which is precisely the type of guy she falls for. She describes him as hot, artsy, and mysterious. The more she talks about him, the more I get the impression he barely knows she exists; yet, for today he’s the center of her universe.
At three o’clock, the store is empty. I am stocking shelves down aisle three when I hear Ashley gasp. A second later she calls to me from the register in front.
“I thought he said you weren’t good enough?”
I know immediately she’s referring to Ben. I put down the box of dog treats and start walking toward the front of the store.
“No, I said I wasn’t good enough,” I correct her.
“He must not believe that.”
I round the corner of the aisle. “Why?”
She’s standing, leaning against the counter with her back to me. Her arms are crossed in front of her as she stares out the windows.
“Because,” she says, turning to face me. “He’s here.”
I look out the window and see Ben walking toward the door. I feel a flood of relief as soon as I see him. Then I see the worried expression he’s wearing and feel a brick drop in my stomach. Everything has shifted since our conversation on the side of the road.
Now I’ll find out how much it altered our friendship.
Ashley offers, “Do you want me to be mean to him?”
What a strange question! I can’t imagine being cruel to Ben. “No,” I say without hesitation.
As Ben enters the store, his eyes zero in on me, and I can’t seem to catch my breath. I am eager for his friendship but scared I’ve already ruined us.
“Hey,” he greets with a smile.
“Hey,” I echo, as the brick in my stomach starts melting. We stare at each other for a moment, both unsure what to say.
Ashley grabs a bin from under the register and breaks the silence. “I’m just gonna take this to the back room and sort it.”
I look at her with gratitude, and she nods her understanding. She scurries around the counter sweeping past us, and she’s out of sight.
Ben steps forward closing the gap. He motions between us with his hand. “This is gonna be awkward, isn’t it?”
“I don’t want it to be.”
“You’re avoiding me,” he accuses.
“No, I’m not,” I lie, looking down at my feet.
“Yes, you are.”
“Well, I didn’t know if you would want to hear from me,” I admit, peeking up at him.
“I told you we’re friends no matter what, Em.”
“I know, but—”
“You’re ridiculous,” he says.
So, it appears he hasn’t realized that he’s too good to be my friend and that makes me happy. Happier than it should.
He pulls me into a hug even though he knows my aversion, but I don’t fight him. Not today, maybe not ever. I bury my face in his chest, close my eyes, and wrap my arms around him. He smells amazing, and I feel the tug to be closer to him. I pull away before he becomes more of a temptation.
“So, I thought you were going to Florida?” I question, thinking he should be on a plane by now. Maybe he finagled his way out of the trip. God, I hope so.
“I told my parents I’d meet them at the airport. Our flight leaves at five, but I couldn’t leave before we settled this.” He buries his hands in his pockets.
“It’s really good to see you.”
