Page 11 of Yours To Keep
Stunned by his words, I’m frozen in place as he walks to his bike, pulling his black helmet over his head and swinging his leg over the frame. He points towards my car, gesturing for me to get inside, and I obey. My brain cannot comprehend what he just said. I’m out of his league? He must be joking.
Once I’m safely behind the closed door, he gives me a little wave and disappears into the night, leaving me wondering what the hell is going on with my fake boyfriend.
five
Morning Girlfriend, I’m gonna make a request. Give me three things you love the most about yourself.
I’ve been staringat the text from Iris since 8 this morning. Now, almost four hours later, I still haven’t replied. I know after his comments on Friday night, he’s not happy about the way I think and talk about myself. I don’t think anybody has ever asked me what I actually like about myself in all of my twenty-three years.
Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror of Revamp, I take stock of my features. I’ve never been one to wear a ton of makeup. Luckily, I don’t need to. The freckles sprinkled across my cheeks and nose are much more prominent than they were when I was a little girl. Honestly, I do love that about myself. Greta used to tell me they were fairy kisses, and that I was lucky to be so loved by a mystical creature. To this day, I choose to believe her reasoning as opposed to blaming my fair skin and red-headed father.
Twirling a strand of my auburn hair around my finger, I smile back at my reflection. I love my naturally wild hair. When I was in school, there weren’t any other girls who looked like me. At the time, I saw it as a flaw. I only wanted to be like the other blonde barbie-doll lookalikes walking the halls. But now, I feel unique. A knock on the door shakes me from my thoughts.
“Magnolia, this is work time.” Malcolm’s nasally voice seeps through the door and I roll my eyes. I lean against the sink, wasting time just to piss him off at this point.
Before I can stop myself, I type out a quick reply to Iris, indulging his plan to increase my elf-esteem.
I don’t hate my freckles. Or my naturally curly hair. They make me feel unique, especially in my family.
Pocketing my cell, I don’t wait for his reply. I don’t want to see it, anyway. Compliments make me so uncomfortable, as if I’ve completely convinced myself everyone is lying to me. Opening the bathroom door, I run straight into Malcolm’s chest and stumble backwards.
“What the fuck? Why do you have to be so creepy all the time, Malcolm!?” I shout, pushing past him.
“Watch your tone, Magnolia. I’m still your superior,” he says, his slimy smirk sending chills up my spine.
“You can kiss my ass. You know you’re not superior to shit, Malcolm.” He tries so hard to be such a badass, but honestly, it’s just annoying.
Becca, the owner of Revamp, is the sweetest woman alive. But I don’t know how she’s kept Malcolm around for so long. I would love to be able to kick his ass to the curb and take over. I love this place so much, but putting my heart and soul into it is exhausting with him here.
I can’t say it’s always been my dream to run a little boutique like this, because it hasn’t. Honestly, I was so busy trying to survive my childhood, I can’t remember what I dreamed about. Becoming beautiful like my sisters? Finally living up to my mother’s expectations of me? I don’t know. But I know that Revamp is my dream now, and I’ll do anything to make it a reality. The look on someone’s face when they find the perfect outfit for a first date, or when they finally feel confident in a new pair of jeans, it’s like a drug to me. I can’t do it for myself, so I get off on doing it for other people. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I have to stop myself from instantly checking to see if it’s a reply from Iris.
Casually, I slide my phone out, a notification from the “#mentalhealthmonday” post I made this morning glaring back at me. Every time I walk out of the house, my mask slides into place. I put on another smiling face just to blend in with what people expect from me. Why do I do that to myself?
I do it so nobody sees me, at least not the real me. No one would ever believe me if I told them all the bullshit running through my mind. I hate the body I live in some days, like I’m locked in a prison of my own creation. I tell everyone that I'm happy, but l'm grieving the life I will never have. I tell myself I’m a fighter, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have bad days or even bad months. If I'm being honest, I'm not honest with anyone in my life.
Self love is such a trend right now, but it’s so fucking hard some days. I wake up and I want to wallow in the depression that lives in my soul, but I get up and move through life, anyway. Just hoping no one looks too closely. Maybe that’s why Iris makes me so uncomfortable, because I can tell he studies me and I don’t like what he’ll find.
I want to be the person I am in my mind and in my heart. A strong, confident, independent woman who truly doesn’t carewhat other people think. But it’s a struggle to keep her in my mind when I hear my mother talk about how she wishes I looked different or acted more ladylike. My phone buzzes again as I hang vintage band tees on hangers for display.
This time, Iris’s name glares back at me from the screen.
You are unique, angel. Fuck your family.
I snort out a laugh at his reply. Something about Iris makes me wish it was that simple, makes me wish this thing between us was real, instead of him taking pity on a friend in need. God, I can’t imagine the feeling of actually calling that man mine. I’m embarrassed to admit that at twenty-three years old, I’ve never had a real boyfriend. Book boyfriends have satisfied me since I was old enough to pick up a novel. Well, them and my battery operated boyfriend, of course. A twenty-three-year-old virgin with a man like Iris? Yeah, I don’t think so.
If only it was that easy!
I send my reply, hanging the t-shirts on a display by the front door. I see Ember and Kelsea walking through the town square out of the shop window, and I give them a wave. For once in my life, I do have something genuine when it comes to my friends.
It wasn’t easy to make friends with other girls when I was young. I was a chubby tomboy who preferred surfing and climbing trees over playing with dolls and gossiping about boys. But the friendships I’ve found with Em, Kelsea, and Rory are something I couldn’t have dreamed up. Need somebody to hype you up? You got it. Need somebody to be Dr. Google and convince you that you don’t have a brain tumor just because you have a headache? They’re on it. Need a book rec about a mafia billionaire who ties you up and makes you his good girl?We’ve got those for days. These women are everything I needed growing up and I’m so lucky to have them now.
It is that easy. Watch, I’ll show you…
The text bubbles at the bottom of the screen keep me in suspense, but the bell over the front door snags my attention.
“Oh, Magnoliaaaa,” Kelsea’s voice echoes through the space, and I laugh.
“Ladies. Having a girl’s day, huh?” I ask, hugging them both.
