Page 6 of Bookish Boys Don't Date Social Girls
I sit up and slap my hands over my mouth. Bridget and Gayle both exclaim and clap like they are at the circus and the trapeze artist just landed a particularly difficult trick.
“I feel like Cinderella.” Ines examines herself in the mirror and we all sing praises for the dress. Gayle snaps pictures. The attendants bring several choices of veils, and Gayle snaps more pictures. The attendants take measurements and make fitting appointments. And finally, we spill into the elevator to head to lunch, Ines still proudly sporting the tuft of white tulle on the back of her head.
The image of Ines in the gown won’t leave my mind. Even though she’s been out of the house for years now and she acts like a stodgy old lady, it’s still hard to accept her as grown up enough to be married.
She’s glowing. I take Bridget’s arm and whisper, “Do you think we will ever be that happy?”
Bridget studies Ines. “Sure. I just never thought she would.”
I laugh because I must agree. I think of my serial dating ways and frown. I know, I’m only seventeen, too young to worry about settling down, but it worries me that I can’t seem to find a guy worth dating more than twice. Why do I always find a reason to break up with him? I tell myself it’s to avoid hurting his feelings later, but secretly, I wonder if I do it to avoid me getting hurt later when he inevitably leaves me.
When the elevator doors open, I follow everyone out of the building and onto the sidewalk and push my negative thoughts from my mind.
Chapter Four
Bek works on Monday,but Ava has the day off, so she comes to hang out by the pool with me. A slight breeze helps to take the edge off the temps, but the summer humidity is in full force.
Because my skin is so fair, I shade myself with a big umbrella, but I still like to pretend to be laying out as if I’m soaking in the sun’s rays. Ava is in the sun with one of my huge, floppy sun hats on and SPF one million slathered all over her. She’s positioned so that the misters along the edge of our patio get her when the wind blows.
“Where’s your hunky bf today?” I ask.
“Working.”
“How’s your mom doing?” Ava had a pretty crap-tastic home life. Her mom and grandma were always screaming at each other and slamming doors. Ava’s mom used to work the graveyard shift and would go into a tirade if Ava or her brother ever walked too loudly past her bedroom during the day. Then her mom got sick. She had a couple of brain tumors the doctors removed. Her recovery has been slow, but the illnessand a support group helped her to stop drinking. Ava says there is less fighting at home now, which is fantastic for her, since her brother will be moving out in a couple of weeks.
“She’s doing good. Her new job is a struggle for her. She’s never done office work before, and she comes home stressed. I worry she’ll start drinking again.”
“Why didn’t she get a job in retail? She would have been more familiar with that, right?”
Ava adjusts her bathing suit like just lying on the chaise made the top shift and reveal too much. “The office job pays more. She hasn’t said so, but I think she wants to move out.”
“What?” I sit up.
“Oh, I mean after I do. Maybe. I think Joel moving out and me getting a job made her realize that we won’t be around forever. I don’t think she wants to live with Grandma.” Ava frowns and looks up at the sky. “There’s a really dark story in their past that neither of them cares to talk about. I don’t think they will ever really get along. I’m just thankful the fighting has lessened, and the screaming has stopped altogether. They mostly avoid each other.”
I settle onto my chaise again. “It’s at least better at home now, though. Right?”
“It is. I’m cautiously optimistic that the next year won’t totally suck.”
“Doesn’t your mom own the house?” I ask. Ava’s grandma moved in with them when we were in second grade, I think.
“Technically, yes,” Ava says. “But I’m pretty sure Grandma has paid the mortgage payments since she moved in, so I don’t think mom will fight her for it.”
I sit quietly for a bit, contemplating if I want to ask the question that has been burning in my mind since dress shopping with my sister. Ava picks up her book and I know it is now or never.
“Ava?”
She looks up and makes a humming noise.
“Do you think I have…” I can’t even say it. What is wrong with me?
“Chicken pox?” Ava jokes. “Bad breath? Have what, Sam?”
I slam my eyes closed, though she probably doesn’t know that because of my big, dark glasses. “Commitment issues?”
Instead of responding, Ava is quiet. For so long, as a matter of fact, I open my eyes to make sure she hasn’t left. She has a far-off, contemplative look on her face that I can’t read.
“I don’t know,” she finally says. “I never thought of it before, and now, thinking back on your relationships with that in mind, I’m still not sure that’s the motivation behind your one-and-done or one-two punch dating style.”
