Delicate (4 page)

I park in the circular driveway and slowly walk up the large white steps, careful not to fall like I
did yesterday
at school. When I reach the massive mahogany front door, I’m surprised by a petite woman, who opens the door to greet me before I can even knock. In all my anxiousness about working with Grant, I hadn’t even taken into account meeting his parents. Grant must get his height from his father, he’s at least 6’2”, and this woman, his mom, I guess, is almost as short as I am. She’s dressed casually in dark blue jeans and a black sweater, her shiny black hair that also doesn’t match Grant’s light brown mess, is pulled back into a neat bun.

“Hi,” I say awkwardly. “Um, Mrs. Evans?”

She laughs lightly.

“Come on in,” she says, holding the door wide open for me to walk through. “I’m not Mrs. Evans, I’m Julie. Grant’s expecting you, he’s around here somewhere.”

I follow her into the foyer. The house is sprawling. The ceilings are higher than any I have seen before. Even the oversized furniture appears dwarfed in this space. I’m grateful when I see Grant coming down the wide, winding staircase. He smiles and runs his hand through his thick, messy hair. He’s dressed casually in a pair of worn
-
out blue jeans and a vintage
-
looking t-shirt. I notice that neither he nor Julie are wearing shoes. For a second, I contemplate kicking mine off as well.

“Hey, Sydney, come on it. Did you meet Jules?” he asks.

I nod and smile at Julie.

“She sort of runs things around here,” Grant says.

“You two need anything before I head out for a bit?” Julie asks.

“I think we’re good. Thanks,” Grant says. Julie leaves through the front door, and I follow Grant into another part of the house.

“I thought that…never mind,” I say.

“Jules was my mom? No. Although, she is here
more
than my mom,” he says.

We stop in the kitchen. It’s modern and full of granite and stainless steel, and really belongs in a home decorating magazine. Grant pauses on the opposite side of the kitchen island and looks at me from under a thick piece of hair. I fight the urge to push it out of his face. That’s just weird, Syd.

“My mom travels a lot, so Jules takes care of everything. She’s been with us since I was five. Anyway, I think I’ve got everything that we need here,” he says. He finally pushes the stray hair back and I can’t help but audibly sigh.

Grant had laid out poster boards and colored paper and X-Acto knives for the chart.

“Wow, you are way ahead of me, here,” I say. I sort of feel like a jerk for not even thinking of any of this stuff.

“Well, I didn’t have much to do. But you, you came straight from gym right? Are you hungry?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

He narrows his eyes at me as if he doesn’t believe me.

“If you have a bottle of water that’d be great,” I say.

“That, I do,” he says. He turns to the large stainless steel refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water and a large bowl of fruit.

“You know, just in case you were to get hungry,” he says, setting both in front of me.

I really am
starving;
I just didn’t want to be any trouble.

“So, you said you’ve been doing gymnastics since you were really little, huh?” Grant asks. He leans against the refrigerator with his arms casually crossed over his sturdy
-
looking chest.

“Yep, about thirteen years now,” I say. I’m not exactly comfortable talking about myself. Which is super convenient since I’m getting paid to do it for this documentary.

“Impressive,” he says.

I reach over and pull a green grape from its stem. Grant gives a little smirk that screams satisfaction as he watches me delve into the bowl of fresh fruit.

“What about you? What brought you to Georgia?” I ask.

“Eh, nothing interesting,” he says. “We move around a lot.”

“What do your parents do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He shifts his weight, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time since I met him.

“My parents are split up. My dad is still in New
York;
mom is here with me…sometimes. Like I said, she’s rarely around.”
It’s
strange how he seems uncomfortable, but still speaks of their absence offhandedly.

“I’m sorry. That must be hard for you,” I say.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Not really, I’m used to it. Plus, Jules is basically family and keeps things running
…
”

“Well, that’s good,” I say, not really sure what else to add.

“So, what was up with the cameras at lunch today?” he asks.

“Oh, that? You probably think I’m a total freak show. They were doing some test shots for this documentary I’m a part of.”

“A documentary? Really?”

“Yeah, sort of following young, Olympic bound athletes. Kind of like a reality show, but just one show. They want to see our real lives. Like I have anything interesting to show…” I let my voice trail off.

“I’m sure you’re fascinating.”

His dark green eyes don’t leave mine as he talks. I can’t help but brush my hand insecurely across my cheeks to ensure that I don’t have anything on my face.

“Well, what about this chart?” I say, breaking his stare.

Grant and I are
able to get a ton done on the project. All the while, holding a steady conversation. Grant’s easy to talk to. It’s not like when I first met Trevor, and was so anxious around him, I couldn’t hold a conversation. Something about Grant is warm. Comfortable. At school, I always felt like the girls avoided me, waiting for me to mess up so that they could swoop in on Trevor. Or that the teachers were waiting for me to crack under the pressure of school and gym and the loss of my mom. But with Grant, it
’
s
just…easy.

I can’t stifle the deep yawn, just as the clock above the stove chimes.

“Would you mind if we finished this up another day?” I ask.

“I see, trying to drop the ball, huh?” Grant says with a grin.

“No, nothing like that, I’m just exhausted.”

“I’m kidding, Sydney. How about Monday after your workout?”

“Sounds good.” I grab my purse and head for the front door.

Julie is stacking towels in a linen closet in the hall and waves good-bye. It isn’t until I’m about to close the enormous front door that I notice Grant is still right behind me.

“Okay, goodnight,” I say.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says, following me out the door.

“You really don’t have to do that, it’s right here,” I laugh. “And this isn’t exactly a dangerous neighborhood.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs.

I wave one last time before getting in my car. Grant waits until I’m in the car, with the ignition running before he turns around and walks back to the gargantuan house with his hands in his jeans pockets. I know he said it doesn’t bother him to be alone, but at that moment, I can’t help but feel bad leaving him.

****

Even though it’s Saturday, I still end up rushing around to get out the door to pick up Quinn and Tessa.

I’d already been to the gym and back home to change. I really should have had plenty of time, but I find myself moving slowly. Dad is busy working in his office when
I’m
finally set to leave.

“See ya, Dad,” I say, ducking my head into the doorway.

He barely glances up, pausing
from
his phone call for a split second to slide his AMEX to the edge of his drafting table and to tell me to be careful.

Maisy is on the sofa still in her pajamas, shoveling colorful cereal into her mouth and watching some ridiculous Guido-filled rerun on MTV.

“Morning, Maisy,” I say. I playfully flick
her in the back of the head.
“It’s gorgeous out today. I’m headed to the mall, you want to come?”

She makes some sort of response that mostly sounds like a growl, and cereal drops out of her mouth back into her bowl. Cheerful as usual.

I was celebrating the beautiful weather and an afternoon off by wearing a light baby blue sundress and white flip flops. Plus, it would be really easy to change in and out of while trying on prom dresses. I don’t often wear shorts or dresses that show my legs. They’re too freakishly toned to be exposed outside of the gym. Sometimes I wish I had long, slender legs like Maisy or the other girls at school. But my legs are practical in gym. They make me more powerful. A lot of work has gone into these legs.

I pull up to Quinn’s house, a traditional, large red brick home that screams perfect family from the outside, and send her a quick text message to let her know I’m here. Within a few seconds, both she and Tessa are bounding down the driveway.

“So, how’s Grant?” Quinn asks before she even slides all the way into the passenger seat.

“Uh, good I guess. We’re just working on a project, Quinn. Give it a rest,” I say.

She smirks and starts scrolling my iPod for something to listen to.

“Sure. But you have to admit, he is like, beyond beautiful,” she says.

“I’m not admitting anything.”

Now, she’s getting on my nerves.

“Oh, leave her alone, Quinn. You know she can’t see anyone outside of Trevor,” Tessa chimes in.

“Whatever. You just wait till you see him, Tess.
You.
Will.
Die
,
” Quinn trills.

Thankfully, she finally settles on a song and turns the stereo up way too loud to be able to carry on a conversation.

The crowds
at
the mall always make me nervous. I’m too short to see around or above anyone. Quinn pulls both Tess and I into the first store we come to and starts flipping through racks of dresses. Always the daring one, she quickly pulls out a floor length gown with heavy beading around the waist.  The dress is mostly bright green and the material has the pattern of a peacock feather. The skirt of the gown is pleated chiffon and the criss-cross straps are heavily embellished.

I smirk. I wrongly assume she’s joking.

“What? I’d totes wear this. It’s awesome,” Quinn says.

Tessa’s taste is more similar to mine, meaning she’s plain. We gravitate to basic black and pastels. Tess has what I consider to be the perfect shape. She used to be a little heavy, but now, she’s all curves. She isn’t lean like Quinn, or stumpy like me,
she’s
just average. Average height. Average size. Sometimes, I wish I could be average
anything
. When Tess co
me
s
out of the dressing room with a baby blue gown with a plunging neckline
and a Grecian look to it, I fin
d myself fighting a moment of jealousy.