In Every Way (6 page)

We end up getting really busy during lunch time so I don’t go down to Julie’s friend’s shop until I get off work. Luckily, the shop is open until nine at night so there’s plenty of time to get there.

Not that I’m looking for excuses not to go . . .

But maybe I am.

I mean, I want to try something new and get new clothes and see if Julie’s advice really works. But I also like the status quo of just wearing my boring clothes and not worrying about it. The worst thing I can imagine is having to wake up and spend hours looking for the perfect clothing to wear to try and impress people I don’t even care about.

But . . . I want a boyfriend. I want a happy life. I want confidence, even if I think it’s a lost cause to even try. But Julie says I’ll look good in those stupid Doxy leggings, so I at least owe it to myself to try, no matter how stupid I feel. Right?

I sling my purse over my shoulder, tell Julie goodbye, and walk nervously down the strip. When I see Flora’s, I almost turn around and walk as fast as I can back to my car. But instead of running like a coward, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I stop in front of the shop, and stare at myself in the reflection of the super clean glass windows. I could use a makeover, that’s for sure.

Dawn is the owner of Flora’s and she knows who I am the second I walk through the door. I guess Julie called and warned her that I’d be coming.

“You must be Bess!” she says, clapping her hands together in front of her chest like she’s just thrilled to meet a new client she can style into perfection.

“That’s me,” I say with a smile that I hope seems genuine. I’m actually scared out of my mind to be here right now, if I’m being honest. But I suck it up because sometimes things that are good for you are really hard to do. It’s like when parents give their kids shots or take them to the dentist. It’s for their own good.

So maybe stepping far out of my comfort zone and getting some bright new clothes to look better will be for my best interest, no matter how much it hurts while it’s happening.

“Julie told me about leggings?” I say, sounding like some kind of absolute cavewoman. What is wrong with me? I get so nervous sometimes that only nonsense comes out of my mouth in ways I can’t help. No,
How are you? I’d like to look at your clothing
, or
Could you please show me your leggings?

Nope. Just stupid drivel.

“You okay, hun?” Dawn says, walking around a rack of foam flip flops that are all covered in hundreds of rhinestones sparkling under the bright lights. We have those same shoes at Aiden Jane, but she has a bigger variety here.

She’s a plump woman, kind of a mixture between me and Grandma. She’s bigger than I am, but smaller than Grandma, and she wears her weight well because she doesn’t look awful. She actually looks cute.

I bite on the inside of my lip. I wonder if it’s because of her clothing. She’s wearing a pair of the Doxy leggings in teal with gold chevron stripes, and a black shirt that’s flowy and has little rhinestone decoration along the neckline.

“I’m fine,” I say, forcing another smile. Then a little voice in my mind tells me to get over myself and be honest. That’s the only way to actually make a difference in your life, after all. “Actually,” I say, scratching my neck. “I’m a little nervous.”

Dawn’s eyes widen and she grabs my hand, pulling it into both of hers. “Oh, honey. No need to be nervous. Julie told me you’re having a little confidence issue, but we’re going to get you all fixed up, okay?” She releases her grip on my hand and runs her fingers along my cheek. It’s kind of weird for a stranger to touch me like this, but the way she does it sets me at ease.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Bess. You just need a little makeover in the clothing department.”

I nod, and I don’t know why this happens, but warm tears flood to the corners of my eyes.
Stupid
, Bess.
Stop being so emotional!

Dawn stands tall and gives me this serious look. “Now, before we start, I need you to promise me you’ll trust my styling judgement. Okay?”

I take a deep breath. “Okay. I trust you.”

***

Two hours later, I’m swiping my debit card for a purchase of five hundred and sixty dollars. It’s not Dawn’s fault though, because not only did she give me a forty percent discount, which saved me a ton of money, she repeatedly told me I didn’t need to buy so much if I didn’t want to. But I shook my head and demanded to get nearly one of everything she had me try on.

The woman is a genius.

“Us curvy women need to dress for our shape,” she’d said as she tossed me a pair of leggings and an off-the-shoulder top over the door of the fitting room. “That’s how you look like your sexiest self.”

Boy, was she right.

I’ve never before felt the way I did as I looked at myself in the tall mirrors of the fitting room. I wasn’t a super model or anything, but I looked . . . nice. These leggings really are a miracle.

They come in all kinds of colors and patterns, some long and some capri length. There are some for working out and others that are a little dressy which you can pair with heels and a long shirt that’s pretty much a dress. They’re all so beautiful and many of them have glitter or sparkles, which until now, I had no idea I loved.

I also got a few pairs of ballet flats and flip flops. My usual baggy T-shirt and baggy jeans with sneakers fad is officially over. I’ve never felt more feminine or happy about myself in my whole life.

This is the start of a new me.

“You know, you should get a tan,” Dawn says as she piles all of my new clothes into shopping bags. “Not too much, of course, you want to keep your skin nice and wrinkle-free, but just a little sun will do wonders.” She leans forward, cupping her hand to her mouth like she’s telling me a secret. “Tan skin makes you look thinner.” She winks and I grin.

“Of course, you’re not as big as you think you are,” she says, shoving more clothing into bags. “All your sizes are medium, so I don’t want to hear any more of that fat talk, okay?”

I heave a sigh. “It’s medium in women’s sizes which are different from junior’s. I’m like a size extra, extra, extra large in those clothes.”

She waves her hand at me. “Men don’t want to date a
junior
. They want a
woman
. I promise.”

I smile up at her and hook some of the bags on my hands. It’ll be a long walk back to my car with all of this stuff. Of course, now that I’m feeling confident in my new wardrobe, I don’t exactly want to go home just yet.

“Do you think I could change into one of these outfits before I leave?” I ask her.

She grins. “Absolutely. I’d choose the pink top.”

“Good choice,” I say, digging it out of the bag. I practically skip to the fitting room and change out of my old clothes and into a pair of black leggings, silver sparkly flip flops, and the pink top. It’s neon pink and has a neckline that makes it look like my boobs are something people want to look at. The color goes great with the blond streaks in my hair, and I’m feeling more confident than ever when I wear it.

After dropping my shopping bags into the trunk of my car, I walk back up the strip and cross over to the beach. With my new flip flops in my hands, I let the warm sand sink between my toes. I tip my head back and let the sun warm me, the salty air filling my lungs. It feels good to be out here on the beach with all of the other normal people.

I breathe in deeply and tell myself this day is the start of a new life for Bess Navarre. I’ll start going out and doing things. When Maddie gets back home, I’ll stop denying her invites to the beach and the mall. I’m going to be more open and I’m going to have fun.

I’ve never felt better.

And then a football comes flying from out of nowhere and smacks me in the shoulder so hard, I’m knocked straight to the sand. I cry out in pain and shock, the impact seeming to hurt more with each passing second. Panicked thoughts fly through my mind.

Did someone hit me on purpose?

Am I about to be made fun of for going out in public with even a shred of confidence?

I’m on my ass in the sand, my shoulder killing me from the pain, and all I’m thinking about is how mortified I am to be in public right now. Someone calls out an apology and I look up to see a guy with short brown hair running toward me. He’s wearing blue board shorts and no shirt, and all I can say is the tan looks really good on him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says, stopping in front of me. I realize now that he’s actually talking to me, not just running by on some other mission.

“It’s fine,” I say, scrambling to stand up in the sand. “No big deal.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, I’m struggling to hold back tears. I bend and pick up the football, holding it out to the guy. He seems really familiar, but then again, all of the hot guys at Robert Cullen High School look alike. Just a bunch of muscled, tall, Greek gods walking around the place. “Here’s your ball.”

He takes it and drops it to the sand, his focus on me instead. “Are you sure you’re okay? Where did you get hit?”

I look at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Why on earth would any guy stare at me with that much concern? I mean, it’s not like he actually cares.

But weirdly, as he watches me with concern in his eyes, I’d almost think that maybe he does.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I say, running a frantic hand through my hair. I nod toward Bryce, who’s standing twenty feet away, his back to us while he talks on the phone. “That jackass was supposed to catch the football, then he just walked off to answer his phone after I threw it.”

The girl glances at Bryce. It could be my imagination, but it seems like she grimaces when she sees him. Maybe she’s a victim of his incessant flirting. The idiot can’t let a single pretty girl walk by without hitting on her.

“It’s okay, really,” she says with a shrug. I get the feeling she wants to walk away and get as far from me as possible, but I have to make sure she’s okay.

“Where were you hit? I was looking for Bryce and then heard you cry out and realized I hit you. God, I’m so sorry.”

“Just um, my shoulder,” she says, reaching for her sleeve. She looks over and pushes the fabric aside, revealing the skin below her collar bone.

“Oh, shit,” I say, wincing in sympathy with her. Her skin is all red and scraped like road rash. It’s even bleeding in a few places.

Her eyes widen as she looks at the injury; I’m guessing she had no idea it was that bad.

“Please, let me help,” I say. “Come with me to my store and I’ll get some ice and bandages for you.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she says, glancing back toward the parking lot. “I was on my way home anyway.”

“It’s the least I can do,” I say, running a hand through my hair again. I’ve already done that, but I can’t help myself. I need something to do with my hands. This girl makes me nervous in the pit of my stomach, and it’s not just because I slammed her with a football. “It’d really help assuage my guilt from hurting you,” I say with a goofy smile that I hope convinces her to come back to the shop with me.

She regards me suspiciously. “What store?” she asks.

“The Flying Mermaid. It’s just right over there,” I say, pointing back toward the strip. “We have a first aid kit with this numbing pain spray,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows to show how enticing my offer is.

She laughs, and it makes her even more beautiful. “Okay, I guess some numbing spray would be nice.”

“Great,” I say, unable to hide my big ass grin.

I really am trying to be a nice human being here, and not a horn dog, but it doesn’t escape my notice that this girl also fits the first two requirements on my list.

Cool it, Josh. You hurt her and now you need to make up for it. Stop imagining her as your girlfriend, you asshat.

I take her in the back door to the shop, the one that leads into the break room. I can hear Dad up front talking to some guy about surfboards. Although The Flying Mermaid closes around seven every night, those hours have always been open to interpretation. If Dad gets caught up with a customer, he’ll stay open until midnight or later.

I shove a beach towel off the bench in the breakroom. “You can sit here,” I tell her, then I grab the first aid kit off the wall.

She sits quietly, holding down her shirt to keep the drops of blood off it. With my hands full of gauze, big bandages, alcohol and the pain spray, I sit next to her and drop all the stuff into my lap.

“You really don’t have to go through all of this trouble,” she says quietly.

I shake my head. “I don’t mind. I should go grab my jackass friend and make him apologize to you as well.”

“I don’t even think he’s aware of what happened,” she says.

“Typical Bryce.”

She looks up at me as I pour some alcohol on a cotton ball. “Bryce from Robert Cullen High School?” she asks.

I nod. “So his reputation precedes him.”

She shrugs. “I thought he looked familiar. I don’t know him though.”

“Did you go to RCHS?” I ask.

She nods. “You?”

“Same,” I say with a grin. “I just graduated. I’ve never seen you before. I’m Josh, by the way. Josh Graham.”

“Bess Navarre,” she says, looking to the floor. “I think you know my friend’s boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, leaning forward to dab off the blood with the cotton ball. “Who’s that?”

She inhales sharply through her teeth.

“Does it burn? I’m sorry,” I say. Without thinking, and because it’s just a habit, I guess, I lean forward and blow on the scrape to make it feel better.

She freezes. I’m suddenly so aware of how close I am. She smells like flowers. I could tilt my head up and kiss her.

Whoa.

I should
not
be thinking that. I sit up quickly and grab the pain spray. “This will help,” I say, my voice coming out all croaky. I clear my throat and hold up the spray can, aiming it over the red area.

“It does,” she says with a little sigh. “That feels so much better.”

“Great.” My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton balls and my stomach is tingling with memories of being so close to her. In my dreams, I’d slide my arms around her, pull her close and press my lips to hers. But this is real life, and you simply don’t make out with strangers in the back of your parent’s shop. At least not without their permission. I peel the backing off a large bandage and cover the bleeding parts.

“I think you’re good now,” I say, peering up at her. She grins and it makes my knees weak. In the back of my mind, I want to compare her to the list, but I can’t even remember what’s on the list at the moment. She’s so beautiful, she’s made all rational thoughts disappear.

“Thanks, you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she says, standing from the bench.

I want to tell her to stay, to hang out with me, maybe even go get some dinner together. But that kind of stuff only works out in the movies. If I said any of that now, I’d sound like a weirdo. I stand up too, then, I remember she never answered my question.

“Hey, who’s your friend’s boyfriend?”

“Oh, um, Maddie and Colby,” she says, almost phrasing it like a question.

“Dude, Colby is my best friend.” All of these thoughts come bombarding into my mind at once.
I can totally see her again because she knows Colby. Why haven’t I seen her before? And, dammit, did I just call her a dude?

I take a deep breath to get my excitement in check. “So weird that I haven’t met you before.”

She shrugs. “Maddie and I are sort of new friends.”

I nod. “Cool, well maybe I’ll see you at the next Mindy Carmichael party.”

An uneasiness flashes across her features, but she shrugs them away. “Um, sure. Maybe.”

A knot forms in my stomach. That’s a blow off if I’ve ever seen one. This girl is totally not into me.

Suck it up, Josh.

I walk her to the back door of the shop and we step out onto the strip. “Sorry again for hitting you with a football,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets as I walk next to her.

“It was an accident. And you’ve more than made up for it,” she says, flashing me that adorable smile again. “Tell your boss thanks for the first aid stuff.”

“Technically I am the boss.” The words fly out, and they’re not
entirely
true . . . but I can’t help myself. I want to impress her so badly. “My family owns the store,” I say by way of explanation.

Her expression goes from confused to understanding, and I’m not sure what she has to be confused or understanding about. Maybe she’s just ready to get rid of me. She takes her car keys out of her purse. “Okay. Well, bye.”

She gives me a little half-hearted wave and then heads straight for the parking lot, leaving me standing there looking and feeling like the biggest tool. I laid it on pretty thick back there and she didn’t flirt with me at all. I guess all of the best girls are too good for me. Maybe I am doomed to be single forever.