Measuring Up(15)
Author: Nyrae Dawn

This time we meet at the park. It’s slightly busier in the evening than the morning, but still not overwhelmingly so. He’s in basketball shorts like he always wears when we jog and a Celtic jersey. I know enough to know there aren’t many Celtics fans in California.

“Hey you,” he says when I get out of the car. Ever since our day at the court with his family, he’s been light like this. More open. It makes me all warm and gooey inside. Dangerous for my heart, but true.

“Hey.”

We stretch a little and then fall into our familiar jog.

“How’d your work out go today, Annabel Lee?” It still gets to me how he’s never breathless when we run. I’m not an idiot. I know he could go much faster than he does with me, but still I wish it affected him a little more than it does.

“Okay, I guess.” I fight to keep my voice steady. Thinking about Mom and how much I disappoint her. Then working out with someone else at the gym. It hasn’t been the best day.

“Just okay? Did ya miss me?” he laughs like it’s a joke, but I did. I missed him. When I don’t reply he speaks again. “I’d have much rather been there, too. It was a court thing we had to go to…don’t really feel like talking about it though.”

As much as I want to know, I’m thankful for what he gave me. We jog in silence a little longer. No noise but the sound of steps mixing together again. “So… is something else up? You’re quiet tonight.”

I want to talk about it. It’s unreal how badly. It’s different talking to Em who knows Mom and will just blast her. Or Dad who will come up with a way to defend her while still trying to build me up too. Running? Somehow it helps. Maybe because I won’t have to look at him. I concentrate on my steps, my breathing. “It’s my mom. We got into it today. She just… I’m not who she wants. As a daughter I mean. She wants perfect and I’m not that.” Exhale breath. I can’t believe I did it.

“No one is perfect, Annabel Lee.”

“She is.”

“Nope. Maybe she’s just better at hiding it. There’s nothing wrong with who you are and it sucks she makes you think there is.”

“Yeah it does suck. Can I ask you something?” My words come out much choppier than they should.

“You wanna know how Timmy got hurt.”

I don’t reply because I don’t have to.

“Freak sporting accident. Can you believe that shit? Who expects that? For an eleven year old boy who looks up to his brother, to head out of the house with a football under his arm and end up in the hospital because he’ll never walk again?”

Football… Oh, God. And was Tegan playing with him?

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I don’t. Somehow, I know he wouldn’t want it. “Sucks.”

“Sure as hell does.” He picks up speed. “Come on. I’ll race you the final stretch.”

“You cheat!” I call after him as I push my legs harder, faster. Of course I don’t beat him, but I don’t end up too far behind so for me, it’s a win. I’m gasping for breath as he’s handing me a water bottle. I suck half the thing down. “You totally didn’t win.”

“Yeah, I totally did.” He mocks.

Feigning anger I cross my arms a little too hard. It squeezes my water bottle which then squirts water at my face.

Holy. Freaking. Embarrassing.

Laugher bursts out of Tegan’s mouth. I want to be mad, but I can’t. I start laughing too. “AHHH. I hate you!” I point my bottle at him and squeeze. He doesn’t move as the rest of my water sprays at him. He’s too busy laughing. Our giggling mingles together the way our footsteps did not along ago.

When we finally stop, we’re both breathing hard. Standing close. In this moment, I know my life is about to change.

“Go out with me,” Rushes out of his mouth so quickly, I’m not sure I heard him right.

“Huh?” Please, God. Don’t let me have been hearing things. Don’t let me die of shock before I can say yes. No! I mean before I get to go.

“Go out with me. This weekend.” I’m sure I look like one of those wrinkle dogs with the really big eyes, because they’re wide and staring and I can’t help it. “Like a date.”

“A date?”

“A date.” Snicker. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

“Why?” Is it the coolest question to ask in this situation? Nope, but it’s what I need to know.

“Say yes.” He’s smirking.

There was never a chance at me answering any differently. “Yes.”

“I’ll text you. We’ll see each other before that, but I’ll text you anyway.”

I can’t stop smiling.

Chapter Twelve

TWO DATES—HOLY CRAP!

Tegan texts me a few times as the week goes on. Nothing major, but then that’s what makes them special.

What ya up to?

I think my family likes you more than me.

Are you excited for this weekend?

We’re still on our same workout schedule and when we’re there, we only talk “business”. Basically, that just means he wants to drive me crazy. Which he’s doing. The one time I brought it up, I asked him what I should wear and he said, “Just be yourself. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.” What does that even mean? I can wear my jammies, because that’s what I feel comfortable in.

But I can’t do that. In fact, I’m so desperate, I’m heading to Mom’s office to talk to her. Not to tell her I’m going on a date, obviously, but the fact is, I need her help. Which totally kills me, knowing what she thinks of me. Knowing that even though she will want to make me over, she’ll also still not be happy with the outcome.

It’s only 8:00 and she’s already perfectly put together.

“Mom?”

“Yeah.” She doesn’t look up from her computer. It’s been like this since our talk about the pageant. Short, one word answers. Things are more strained between us than they have ever been.

My words want to stick in my mouth like a huge wad of gum, but I find a way to speak around it. “I thought maybe we could do the spa day today. Maybe get my hair and my nails done like you said. I have to meet Em this afternoon, so we’d have to be back, but—”

“Perfect!” She cuts me off. “Go get changed and I’ll call and make our appointment!”

An hour later we’re sitting with our feet in a tub of water. They’ve been scrubbed, but oh, here they go, scrubbing them again. Our nails are painted, then I’m subjected to the same thing to my hands: clip, massage, paint. I hate to admit it kind of feels good. Who doesn’t like to be pampered? At the same time, it feels weird because it’s not me.

“What do you think you want to do with your hair?” Mom asks, eyes closed and head back while she enjoys the pampering.

“Well—”

“Oh, I know! I’m thinking bangs, layers around your face and some honey colored highlights. You don’t want blond with your dark hair. That screams trashy.” Why did she ask me if she didn’t even plan to hear my answer?

What did I get myself into? I’m really not feeling the whole layer thing. I like how my hair is now. All one length, no bangs, and resting on my shoulders. Layers only mean I’m going to have to do something with it every day, but instead of saying that, I agree with her. “Sure. Whatever you think.”

“You’ll love it, Annabel. It’s amazing what hair and nails can do for you. Even the plainest women have options nowadays.”

That stings. Is that me? Am I the plain girl she’s talking about? I know the answer to that question. Tegan likes my eyes and so do I. They match hers. I wonder if she’s ever even noticed. “Cool.”

After our nails are done, it’s onto the hair. I watch as short black strands fall to the ground, both hopeful and irritated at the same time. Why didn’t I speak up if I don’t want my hair layered? But…what if it looks good? I shouldn’t shoot down “options” before I test them out, right?

Mom’s giddy as they dye and cut my hair. Me? I’m not really sure how I feel. I’m faced away from the mirrors on Mom’s suggestion, not seeing makes it worse on my already overactive nerves.

“All done!” They turn me around and I freeze. It doesn’t look bad. Actually, it looks kind of good. It just doesn’t look like me.

“What do you think? Isn’t it gorgeous, Annabel?”

“Yeah…gorgeous. Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Aren’t you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” But I’m not. I’m not sure at all. I feel strange… different. That’s normal, I think. Anytime you do something different, it must feel like this.

Then I think of Tegan. I know it’s stupid, but what’s he going to think? Am I trying too hard? Is he going to see right through it? Ugh. I hate this! But I don’t have much time to contemplate it. A minute later Mom is dragging me out the door and clothes shopping.

“Mom, dresses really aren’t my thing.” I try to tell her as she looks through the rack.

“Not all dresses, no. But there are some that work wonders, Annabel. If it’s styled right, it brings out your…assets and hides the…imperfections.”

My heart drops. I didn’t mean they don’t look good on me. I meant I don’t like them.

“This whole shop is for women like you. I promise, you’ll be so happy when we’re done.” She touches my cheek. It’s the first time she’s touched me like this in forever. “You’ll be pretty.”

I’ll be pretty. Because I’m not now. I try to smile. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”

And then we finish our mother/daughter day. I think it’s the only one we’ve ever had that she’s enjoyed.

***

On my way to the gym to meet Tegan, I change. I already feel like my insides are going to explode from nerves that I have to at least be comfortable in my clothes. I can’t do much about the hair, but the clothes are going.

Off goes the skirt for a pair of khaki capris. I cover up the tank top with a button up shirt that reaches my elbows. I feel like I’m jacked up on some kind of upper drug I’ve never taken. Make sense? Okay, I know it doesn’t, but I can’t explain it any other way. I’m twitchy, on edge as excitement and nerves fight to see which one will take me over.

The second I kill the engine in my BMW and look up, I feel like I’m going to puke. Tegan stands there waiting for me and he’s gorgeous. More gorgeous than any other time I’ve seen him, if that’s possible. Like always, he’s wearing shorts. These are black, hanging mid-knee like they always do. White socks, black and white Nikes, a white t-shirt with button up shirt over his too, though I’m sure his is more for hotness reasons rather than fear of arm flab.

His slightly wavy hair is wet, like he got out of the shower right before coming. In his hand is a smoothie cup, which makes me want to laugh, but I can’t because I can’t get over how good he looks. His eyes are on me, and those masculine plump lips are stretched into a smile. The jerk. He knows I’m looking and I immediately cast my eyes down. My foot itches to push down on the accelerator, to run while my heart is fully intact, before I fall too much, but I don’t. I’m tired of missing out and if he wants me here, even just for this one date, I’m staying. I deserve this.