Dizzy (10 page)

“Ugh. Always being logical.” I’m already opening my door and getting out. My body feels a little primed, like it thinks it’s going to be getting something it shouldn’t. Totally not going there. Not with Hanes.

Dress.

Okay. Probably not going there with Hanes.

“I think we’re two schmucks who let our love of cake drive us to run another wedding errand.”

“Agreed.”

Her house is small and kind of old-fashioned-looking. There’s this huge, floral chair in the corner of the living room that looks like it’s as old as us, but honestly, it also looks comfortable as hell, all pillowy like you could sink into it. Big enough for two, too. Chill out, Gibson. Totally not supposed to be going there.

“Not what you’re used to, I’m sure.” She eyes me as I look around her house.

“No, that’s not what I was thinking. I was…” Thinking we’d fit real well on that chair together. Yeah, I’m not thinking that’s a good idea. Not just because of the fact that she’s a girl, and as shitty as it sounds, I can’t make myself trust them. Not really.

But also because I’m really not looking for her knee to meet my balls. I can bet that’s what would happen. Because first of all, she’s not even sure if she likes me or not. Second, the James thing probably screwed her up a bit.

Oh, that gives me another reason to stay away. Screwed up doesn’t sound like something I’m able to deal with.

But I helped the other day…

“Let’s just say you don’t want to know what I was thinking.” I wink at her, and she turns pink. When all else fails, the embarrassment/compliment thing always works.

“Boys are so weird.” She shakes her head. “Makes me wonder all the more what my sister is thinking.”

She starts to walk toward the kitchen, and I follow her. It’s huge, and the only modern-looking thing about the house. “That only leaves one option. Thinking of switching teams?” I tease.

She cracks a smile, and her eyes crinkle at the same time. I can tell she’s not sure if she wants to be annoyed with me or if she thinks I’m funny. Personally, I think she should go with the latter.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it.”

“No, I’m just using you for movies and because you’re my only ally on Team Sanity, remember? Everyone else is all pro-wedding and stuff.”

A laugh breaks out of my mouth. A huge laugh. My gut starts to ache because I’m cracking up so much. “Team Sanity? That’s fucking awesome.”

She’s seriously funny. I wonder if she sees it. I’m not sure if a girl has ever made me laugh as often as she does. Granted half the time she’s pissed at me, but the times she’s not, she’s freaking funny. Or maybe I’m just on edge being around this girl, and laughing is the only way to get rid of it.

“You’re not a full card-carrying member yet, but you’re the closest I have.”

I can see her try to fight her laugh, too, but then she just lets loose. It’s crazy to hear her laugh. It’s so different than her regular voice and sort of… alive. Which sounds absolutely stupid, but that’s the only word I can think of.

“I’m pretty sure you just gave me a compliment, Hanes.”

She shakes her head. “The Hanes thing has to go.”

“Aww, come on. You know you like it.” I sit at the small table in her kitchen.

“Hungry?” she asks.

I’m wondering how the hell she still has room in her stomach, but I’m not about to be outdone.

“Sure. What do you have?”

A stack of menus lands on the table. “I don’t cook.”

“Isn’t your mom a chef?”

One of her brows goes up. “Hence the reason I’ve never learned to cook.”

I laugh again. Maybe she’s not so bad.

Twelve

~ Ziah ~

Hot party-guy is in my house. For pizza and a movie. The same day he totally checked me out. And then, just when I thought it would be weird that he looked at me like that, we stuffed ourselves sick over cake, he got it all over my face, and being around him got easy again. Too bad the whole liking someone thing isn’t for me.

We’re halfway through a large pizza and the first movie. I thought about trying to get him in the big chair with me, but that would be stupid on a million levels. Instead we’re on the worn, beige couch.

“So, you’re not one of those salad girls, huh.” He shoves another slice in his mouth.

“Salad is for rabbits. I eat real food.”

Dylan didn’t admit it, but he’s obviously seen this movie before. I can tell because he’s into it but doesn’t jump when he should. Not that I think he’d be jumpy, but it’s just a feeling I get.

He looks at me a little too long again, and I know I should be running away from this, but I sort of don’t want to. It’s been so long since I’ve been around someone who made me feel like they liked what they saw. And since just a look from him gave me the happy let’s-get-closer tingles. This is harmless. Just hanging out and flirting. Part of me starts to wonder if I could be the kind of girl who hangs out and makes out and then is all normal and pretends it never happened.

Or maybe I just wish I could be that girl for Dylan.

Or maybe I still wish I could be that girl for James, and it just feels good that Dylan’s watching me the way he is.

When he starts talking again, I’m staring at his lips as I think about the kissing and forgetting and the happy tingles and the wanting.

And then I remember James and Alyssa, and my sister’s stupid wedding. And I want to take Mom’s car and run away from all of it for a while. So maybe I shouldn’t be teasing Dylan about being spastic.

We’re nearing the end of Rear Window, which gets all kinds of intense, but it’s still not as intense as just sitting next to Dylan. I wish I could just get over it and kiss him already, but that thought sort of scares me still because it’ll end worse than with James. Even if it was a good idea, which it isn’t, there’s no way I’d have the guts to do it anyway.

But then, without thinking, my hand rests on the couch between us, almost touching his leg. What am I doing? Did I seriously just make a move? He’s so still, but I can tell he’s watching me because I can see him glance my way out of the corner of my eye. Now it’s hard to breathe, because I’ve sort of unintentionally made this awkwardness with my stupid hand.

In the movie, the bad guy breaks into the apartment right as Dylan jumps off the couch.

“Scared?” I tease, because it’s better than thinking I’m being rejected. Again.

“No… I gotta go. I forgot I have this… thing. Yeah, a thing I have to do.”

It’s total bullshit. I know it, and he knows it, which is why his body’s tense like he just drank ten cups of coffee. And now I just sort of want him to go.

“A thing?” I can feel my scowl, and I’m not sure how to stop it or if I should stop it.

“Yep. A thing.” His eyes hit mine, and I swear we’re having another moment where I love the way he’s looking at me and shouldn’t. He shifts his weight a few times before he turns and walks out.

As the end credits roll, I think I’ve just had the most confusing day of my life.

***

It’s the next morning, and I still don’t know what last night was. It was more like a date than anything I’ve done since I can remember. I don’t know if I wanted it to be a date or not. Part of me does, and part of me totally doesn’t. The self-preservation part is smart enough to know I’d be in way over my head with someone like Dylan. It goes back to the whole experience thing. First, knowing what happens when I like guys, and second, knowing my experience is a few kisses, while I don’t even want to see what Dylan’s list looks like.

This confusing guy stuff is what I need Alyssa for. I’m just not sure how to deal with her yet. Unfortunately, I have one day to figure it out, because school starts tomorrow.

I pull out my phone and dial. I mean, I can’t avoid her forever. We’ll all be back in school, and… and maybe I’ll have to watch her and James kissing in the hallways.

“Ziah? Finally! I’ve been trying to get through. I want to talk, and—”

My heart cracks again, and I hang up. I thought I was ready to talk, but I’m obviously not there yet. My phone rings almost immediately, but I silence it. Then get a text.

ALYSSA: PLSE Z. LET’S TALK, OK?

I’m not at all ready to talk to her. Or James. The guy who was supposed to be safe.

Dylan flashes through my head. Definitely more exciting than James. I’m not sure why I was stupid enough to think something might happen between us last night. I’m also not sure why I thought it would be a good idea. The damage done by James is probably tame compared to what Dylan could do.

First off, Dylan’s going to be my brother-in-law. Second, just LOOK at him. He’s not going to stick around. Third, I’m not myself around him. I’m not the girl who loses her breath when a guy gives her a hand out of a car or off of a car or really anytime. Four, he’s mental—totally fun one minute, then moody and quiet the next. Five, the fact that I wasn’t afraid to totally flaunt how I looked in that dress could lead to dangerous things for me. Six, I think last night sort of proved he’s not into me. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I think there was something there, but if he wanted it, he wouldn’t have taken off. And he did.

Once again rejected before anything got started. Which is good, because I really, really don’t want to start anything.

Lora comes in the front door, her stack of wedding magazines in one arm, and flops next to me on the couch. “Help?” she asks.

I groan as I sit up. This is not on my agenda. Moping is on my agenda. I’ve probably looked through all of these a million times. Announcements, flowers, party favors, pictures of honeymoon destinations I’ll never see…

“Look. I’m painfully aware that you don’t give a shit about my wedding, Ziah. You were mad about the dress and didn’t even seem all that excited about cake after the first stop. But I do give a shit, okay? If you need to talk to James to straighten yourself out, then do it. If you need to deal with Alyssa, then do it. But don’t ruin this for me!”

Her pile of magazines drops to the floor before tears start falling, and Lora spins back around slamming the door behind her.

What just happened?

Thirteen

~ Dylan ~

The next day as I sit at home waiting for Paul, I’m still thinking about last night.

I’ve never really been on a date in my life. Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? Not like anyone would believe me because… well, even though I don’t date, I definitely get girls. Which everyone knows. Which makes people believe I’m taking girls out left and right, but I’m not. Now that I think about it, it kind of makes me feel like a jerk. But then again, why do guys always have to ask the girls out on dates? It isn't like Chastity would ever come up to me and say, “Hey, Dylan. How about dinner and a movie?” No. With her hand inching toward my crotch, she says stuff like, “Hey, maybe we can hang out tonight,” which may sound similar, but it’s definitely not the same thing.

Now I can’t stop wondering if I went on a date last night with Ziah. We did the dinner thing—for the second time. We watched a movie. After our first dinner, we sat on Mary and talked about the secrets of the universe and shit. Okay, maybe just the secrets of Dylan, but pretty close. It felt different than it would with Chastity. So was it a date? Did I want it to be a date? Honestly, the thought makes me want to puke in Dad’s grass again. Not because it was Ziah. But because the more I hang out with her, the more I realize the girl is hot as hell. Not only that, but she’s way cool to chill with and pretty funny, too. Oh, and did I mention hot?

But my stomach starts constricting because I MIGHT HAVE WANTED IT TO BE A DATE. I mean, what is that? Dates lead to commitment and commitment leads to temporary insanity and temporary insanity leads to full on mental illness—picking out china patterns, choosing museums to get married in—and ends with two fucked-in-the head sons and a dad trying to hold it together when he’s just as fucked-in-the-head as they are.

So no, I definitely don’t want it to have been a date. Either time.

All you’re doing is being nice to her. Helping with the wedding, I tell myself. Which is true and even further drives my point home. I’m sure Derrick never planned on ending up like this when he took Lora on a date. Luckily, I’m not only better looking than my brother, but I’m smarter too.

Then why do I still kind of feel like puking? Why can’t I get her laugh out of my head? It’s higher-pitched than her voice but not annoyingly so. Hot high-pitched. Or the way her breath catches when I accidentally-on-purpose brush up against her? And the way her eyes are on me, studying me like she wants to memorize every part of me that she can—the way I obviously want to, too, since I’m dissecting her fucking laugh and breathing patterns!

Stop thinking about it. That’s all I need to do is stop thinking about her.

***

“Dude, you’ve been all weird and sulky lately. Did someone kick your dog? Scratch Mary? Oh, you got turned down by a girl!” Paul turns down the music in Mary.

It takes everything in me not to ignore him and turn it back up. First, when the hell did he get so observant? Usually he doesn’t notice anything that isn’t a way for him to get attention. Second, he had to go and remind me that I have been weird. Oh, and then he hit the nail on the head that it’s about a girl. Not that I’ll admit it.

“I’m not sulky. Who even uses that word?” Except I am sulky, and I know it.

I flip down the sun visor. I can’t stop thinking about the sort-of date, and how I didn’t hate the idea. Did it start that way with Derrick? No, I can’t let myself think like that. I don’t like her. She’s angry voodoo-doll chick.

“I use that word, and you’re definitely sulky man. Is it the wedding shit?” Paul’s been my friend forever. He’s the one who knew us before and after Mom. Besides Derrick, no one else would even know to bring up the wedding pissing me off.

Well, except Ziah, I guess, but she doesn’t know why.

Paul also knows I won’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t want to talk about the wedding.”

He doesn’t push it. We’re cool like that and know when to go there and when not to.

“Chastity asked me about you at school today. She wants us all to go do something.”

This is where I should be jumping at the opportunity to go out with another girl. To get my mind off Hanes, but I’m not sure I’m feeling it. It doesn’t sound as cool as it usually does—which I chalk up to being tired and busy playing wedding planner.

“We’ll see. Things are kind of crazy right now.”

“That’s cool. Derrick asked me to be in the wedding, too. I didn’t see that one coming.”

I glance at Paul and see him scratch his head. He has the huge-ass Paul smile on his face. He’s stoked.

“You’re like a brother to him. We’ve been making his life hell ever since we could walk.”

Paul laughs and then my cell goes off, letting me know I got a text. Picking it up, I see Hanes flash across the screen. Damn it. I just stopped thinking about her.

Z: LORA JUST ABOUT EXPLODED BECAUSE I’M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR WEDDING STUFF. DID SHE AND DERRICK GET IN A FIGHT OR SOMETHING?

I smile, imagining Ziah blowing her sister off, and Lora taking it to mean it’s the end of the world. Girls in love are a little psycho. Or at least the ones getting married are.

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling? Who is that?” Paul fires questions at me.

“I’m not smiling.” Only I sort of am, but not because it’s Ziah. It’s psycho Lora.

After I pull into a parking spot, I text back.

D: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? WE’RE DOING TUXES. COME DOWN. I’M SURE SHE’LL BE HERE.

After I give her the address, I toss my phone down and get out of the car. Derrick is already inside when we get there. Pacing back and forth.

“You’re late! What the hell, man.”

“Ten minutes. Chill out. I had to pick Paul up. Geez, you’re worse then Lora.”

Derrick groans and plops down into a chair. The guy who works here is behind the counter, trying to look like he’s not paying attention to us. Derrick ruffles his hair, obviously freaking out about something.

“Trouble in paradise?”

When he groans again, I start tripping out a little bit. I’m just giving him a hard time. The wedding is a mistake, but I also don’t want anything to hurt my brother.

“What’s up? You cool?” I sit down next to him. Paul takes the seat on the other side.

“Lora’s all stressed out. She’s not big on any of the places we picked out. She really wants this Vista place, but it’s all booked. I don’t see what the big deal is. I told her it didn’t really matter where we did it, which was obviously the wrong thing to say. She took off and isn’t answering her phone.” He starts popping his knuckles, and I’m a little lost here.

“So you guys had a little argument. What’s the big deal? That happens all the time, right?”

I mean, that should be normal. People fight and as long as it’s not huge fights you get over it and move on.

“You don’t get it. I don’t want to be like Mom and Dad. The fighting and the taking off.”

Huh? “What are you talking about? I don’t remember Mom and Dad having any big fights, and what you’re explaining sounds more like a disagreement than anything.”

Derrick looks over at me. “You don’t remember, D. I told you things weren’t what you think with Mom and Dad.”

And that’s about enough of that. I’m definitely not in the mood to go there. Especially with Paul and the sewing guy here.

I push to my feet. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s get this over with.”

***

“The ties are pink.”

I can’t believe my brother expects me to wear a pink tie. I don’t ever remember him liking pink before. The suits are okay. They’re kind of thin, which to me is weird since the wedding is in March.
They’re a khaki color, c
alled summer suits or something like that.

“Mauve.” Derrick stands in front of a mirror while the guy measures him. He’s got a huge smile on his face like he’s not setting us up in suits for the wrong season and pink ties.

“Then mauve is pink because the tie is definitely pink.”

“It’s mauve, you dumbass. It’s not pink.”

“Paul, tell him the tie is pink. I’m not wearing this.”

Paul laughs. “I’m staying out of this one.”

“Derrick.” I walk over to him. “Seriously. Talk to her. You can’t want pink ties.”

The bell over the door rings. I look over to see Ziah walking toward us. I sort of suck in a breath and then realize that’s stupid.
             

“You guys aren’t wearing pink ties are you?” She laughs.

“Ha! I told you, man. My brother says they’re mauve.” I roll my eyes.

“Isn’t mauve pink?”

I seriously consider asking
her
to marry
me
. Okay, not really. I’m not crazy, but I am pretty damn thankful.

“You guys are both being ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with mauve ties,” Derrick tries to defend himself.

Obviously he’s not going to do anything about this, so I plead my case to Ziah instead. “Can you talk to your sister about this?”

“No!” Derrick looks at Ziah. “Just let it go. She’s having a hard time. You know how she gets. She worries about everything. I don’t want to stress her out anymore.”

I take a step back. I don’t know what it is about what he just said, but things really start to sink in. How much he cares about this girl is finally getting slammed into my brain. He loves her so much he just wants to make things easy on her—even if it means wearing a pink tie or being freaked out over a little argument. When it comes down to it, he just wants to do what he can to take care of his girl.

I remember how cool it felt when I helped Ziah. Not that she’s my girl or ever will be, but it still made me feel like something more because I somehow helped her. I suddenly don’t want to make things harder on him. Not at this moment, at least.

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m man enough to wear a pink tie. I’ll rock it.”

Derrick catches my eye over Ziah’s, and I see him relax. He nods at me like he’s saying thanks, and I nod back.

When the bell over the door rings a second time, I somehow know it’s Lora.

She walks over to Derrick all slowly like she’s unsure, but then he gives her a half-smile. Hers is triple the size of his, and she gives him a huge hug. They’re whispering to each other. The suit guy huffs away, obviously pissed we’re screwing up his schedule, and Paul, Hanes, and I just kind of stand and watch.

For the first time, I think I might actually be happy for him. Well, even though he’s making a huge mistake.