Measuring Up (13 page)

“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 c
ourse 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 mor
e 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 tel
l 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.

I get out of the car and step onto the sidewalk in front of him. The pulse in my ears drowns out the traffic speeding down the street. Yeah, I’m so gone. “Hey.”

He doesn’t reply for a minute, reaching out and fingering my hair. The strands slip through his fingers and brush my cheek. It’s almost like he’s touching me and I shiver. “What did you do, Annabel Lee?”

Embarrassment weakens my determination from a few seconds ago. I wring my hands together. “Col
or my hair? You know it’s when—
” Tegan cuts off my attempt at sarcasm.

“I know what you did, smart-aleck. It looks nice, it’s just. I don’t know, different. I’m not complaining. You look pretty, I just want to be sure you did this because it’s something you want, not because of our date or something.”

“You’re such a flirt. Quit calling me pretty,” is what comes out of my mouth when
what I really want to say is,
can you please repeat that? Like ten times. Thanks.

“You
do that a lot, deflect compliments
like that. I mean, if you wanted to call me pretty, I’d be glad to hear it. Okay, maybe not pretty, but sexy. You want to call me sexy, don’t you? Admit it.” He’s got that mischievous smile on his face and I’m at a loss for words. He always finds a way to steal them from me. Which I think is the
point. I try and deflect compliments
and I think h
e’s trying to deflect my nerves
. I melt a little more inside. 

“Seriously though. It’s pretty, but I liked it before too.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.
It’s hard to think over the sound of my heart. “Thanks. It was my mom’s idea. She likes playing makeover Barbie with me. I finally let her.”

“Hmm.” He crosses his arms. “Next time, tell her you’re fine the way you are.” Then he grabs my hand, twining our fingers together in a way that shoots sparks up my arm and down my chest. “Come on, we’re burning daylight. I’m ready to have some fun. I need it today.”

It makes me think something happened, but I don’t ask. If he wants to tell me, he will.

Once he closes the passenger door for me, I do a little giddy dance inside. There’s nothing wrong with being an independent woman, but there’s also nothing wrong with a guy going the extra mile. Not that I have a lot of experience in the situation, but I digress. Once he closes my door and gets in, Tegan turns to me. “So, I
was thinking the fair because…
well, because I’m obsessed with rides, but then my know-it-all mom brought up the fact that I don’t know if you do rides or not. I told her all I had to do is challenge you and you’d do it, but then I figured that might not be the best thing for our first date.”

I love this side of him so much. Love how he’s so much more relaxed around me lately. And somehow, I’m the same around him. “Hey! What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad. Just that you’re determined. If you think someone doesn’t believe you can do something, you’re going to.”

  “And how do you know that?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Because I’m good?”

And cocky. “Try again.”

“Because that’s how I get you to do what I want at the gym.”

“Whatever.”

“We’re getting off track here. My second thought was the zoo because, well… nobody goes to the zoo anymore.”

The unease in my belly has started to lift and I’m falling deeper into the comfort that Tegan brings. Plus, could he have picked cooler things to do for our date? “Well, we’re in trouble because I can’t choose. I love the fair and I haven’t been to the zoo in years. Both would be good.”

“Well, it’s,” he picks up his cell and glances at it. “Wow, just now three. You were early.”

“Not as early as you.”

For the first time, I get a bashful look from him before his eyes return to the road. “Okay, so we can do both? What do you think? Hit the zoo. Leave about six, get to the fair about six thirty. What time do you have to be home?”

“Midnight.” Mom thinks I’m out to dinner and a movie with Em tonight. She never calls Em’s house and Em always uses my cell to call me so I there’s no way I’ll get caught by either of them. Man, what a liar I am turning out to be.

“That works then. You game, Annabel Lee?”

“Sounds perfect!” Perfect? What the frig? Maybe I should just throw myself at him while I’m at it? Luckily Tegan doesn’t comment on it, giving me the chance to A) Change the subject and B) Ask him something I’ve wanted to for a while now.

“So…what’s with the name? Rocky I get, but Annabel Lee?”