fall for his bullshit. You’re no broken bird.”
That’s right. I’m a tiger.
But that doesn’t matter because I hate the thought of hurting Noah’s feelings. I hate the thought of trying to rehabilitate myself, the awkwardness of a date with a stranger, the stress of conversation, all while ignoring the one person I actually want to get to know better. It sounds decidedly not fun. In fact, it sounds awful.
“Come on. Get up.” Becca slips off the couch and pulls on my hand. “Let’s do this right. Get you in the shower. Do up your hair. Maybe we’ll even go shopping.”
Protests kinda bubble up and trip over my tongue, coming out all garbled up and goofy. I pull my hand from Becca’s and take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts so I can clearly and concisely tell her that a double date is enough of a stretch for me without adding in the noise and distraction of Flannigan’s. Add in the fact that I’ll just melt into a little pile of awkward if I see Noah and it’s just bad idea on top of bad idea on top of awful. I mean the tiger’s roaring, demanding that I put a stop to this nonsense.
Before I can speak, Becca puts a finger to my forearm, just the gentlest of touches, and her eyes go all focused and meaningful for a fraction of a second. I swear, there’s this little … nudge. I don’t know how else to describe it. This pulse of power that pushes against me, but even that’s too strong of a description. It’s just this tiny little … nudge. What is it with me and being touched lately?
Whatever. It’s useless to fight. Becca will get her way one way or another. It’s really best if I just give in now. Which is exactly what I do. I lose the rest of my day in a flurry of hair and makeup and shopping and even though I feel nothing like myself, I’m finally feeling more relaxed. No pacing tigers. No roaring in my head. No worries about Noah and my overwhelming shyness. It’s just me and my best friend, laughing and joking and enjoying each other’s company.
Earrings dart in and out of my hair, flashing when I toss my head. Bracelets clink on my wrists. She’s got me teetering around in high heels and jeans. And honestly, because I’m tall, I’ve never liked wearing heels. Put me in heels and I’m suddenly gigantic. But tonight I feel beautiful. Gigantically beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless. I’d say I looked like a mini-Becca but that’s just silly ‘cause I’m way bigger than her. It’s always seemed so unfair that I got this big old body and this tiny little personality. I’m mismatched in the worst way
Of course, since Becca’s home and calling all the shots, we don’t even discuss walking and we hop right into the Jeep, which is more than fine with me. I mean, I know how to walk in heels. Just ‘cause I’m tall and don’t like to wear them doesn’t mean that I didn’t practice wearing them in the privacy of my own house, but the couple blocks it’ll take to get to Flannigan’s seems much longer than it would if I were wearing my flats. Plus, the top’s off the Jeep and the wind’s in my hair and the air’s all soft like velvet and it all adds up to one big ball of good.
It’s that awesome time just after the sun sets in the summer and it’s still warm but the breeze is cool and the horizon glows all warm and bronze-like. We pass a bunch of guys and they call out to us, whistles and cat calls. I think I’m supposed to be offended, but I’m going to be honest, it feels really good. Becca smiles and tosses her hair and she’ll complain about those guys and all the things they said when we get to Flannigan’s, but I can tell she likes the way it feels, too.
We all just want to be seen, I think.
Nerves should be flitting around all helter-skelter in my belly. Hands should be sweating. Chest should feel tight. Maybe it’s the time with Becca, maybe it’s ‘cause I’m all done up, wearing a Becca costume, or maybe it’s because I just haven’t had
That’s right. I’m a tiger.
But that doesn’t matter because I hate the thought of hurting Noah’s feelings. I hate the thought of trying to rehabilitate myself, the awkwardness of a date with a stranger, the stress of conversation, all while ignoring the one person I actually want to get to know better. It sounds decidedly not fun. In fact, it sounds awful.
“Come on. Get up.” Becca slips off the couch and pulls on my hand. “Let’s do this right. Get you in the shower. Do up your hair. Maybe we’ll even go shopping.”
Protests kinda bubble up and trip over my tongue, coming out all garbled up and goofy. I pull my hand from Becca’s and take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts so I can clearly and concisely tell her that a double date is enough of a stretch for me without adding in the noise and distraction of Flannigan’s. Add in the fact that I’ll just melt into a little pile of awkward if I see Noah and it’s just bad idea on top of bad idea on top of awful. I mean the tiger’s roaring, demanding that I put a stop to this nonsense.
Before I can speak, Becca puts a finger to my forearm, just the gentlest of touches, and her eyes go all focused and meaningful for a fraction of a second. I swear, there’s this little … nudge. I don’t know how else to describe it. This pulse of power that pushes against me, but even that’s too strong of a description. It’s just this tiny little … nudge. What is it with me and being touched lately?
Whatever. It’s useless to fight. Becca will get her way one way or another. It’s really best if I just give in now. Which is exactly what I do. I lose the rest of my day in a flurry of hair and makeup and shopping and even though I feel nothing like myself, I’m finally feeling more relaxed. No pacing tigers. No roaring in my head. No worries about Noah and my overwhelming shyness. It’s just me and my best friend, laughing and joking and enjoying each other’s company.
Earrings dart in and out of my hair, flashing when I toss my head. Bracelets clink on my wrists. She’s got me teetering around in high heels and jeans. And honestly, because I’m tall, I’ve never liked wearing heels. Put me in heels and I’m suddenly gigantic. But tonight I feel beautiful. Gigantically beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless. I’d say I looked like a mini-Becca but that’s just silly ‘cause I’m way bigger than her. It’s always seemed so unfair that I got this big old body and this tiny little personality. I’m mismatched in the worst way
Of course, since Becca’s home and calling all the shots, we don’t even discuss walking and we hop right into the Jeep, which is more than fine with me. I mean, I know how to walk in heels. Just ‘cause I’m tall and don’t like to wear them doesn’t mean that I didn’t practice wearing them in the privacy of my own house, but the couple blocks it’ll take to get to Flannigan’s seems much longer than it would if I were wearing my flats. Plus, the top’s off the Jeep and the wind’s in my hair and the air’s all soft like velvet and it all adds up to one big ball of good.
It’s that awesome time just after the sun sets in the summer and it’s still warm but the breeze is cool and the horizon glows all warm and bronze-like. We pass a bunch of guys and they call out to us, whistles and cat calls. I think I’m supposed to be offended, but I’m going to be honest, it feels really good. Becca smiles and tosses her hair and she’ll complain about those guys and all the things they said when we get to Flannigan’s, but I can tell she likes the way it feels, too.
We all just want to be seen, I think.
Nerves should be flitting around all helter-skelter in my belly. Hands should be sweating. Chest should feel tight. Maybe it’s the time with Becca, maybe it’s ‘cause I’m all done up, wearing a Becca costume, or maybe it’s because I just haven’t had
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