On the Outside Looking In (Wrong Reasons) (11 page)

“Oh, Evan,” I groaned.  “What did Bailey and Irelyn say?”

“What does it matter?” he asked.

“They’re my friends,” I said.  “I don’t want them thinking I’m a … whore.”

“Please,” he said, tilting his chair back.  “If they’re really your friends, they’ll know better.  Don’t worry about it so much.”

“What about … the guys,” I said.  “What did they say?”

“Nothing, really,” he said, brow furrowed.  “What do you think they’d say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why do you care?” he asked.  “Don’t tell me all that shit Jessica was saying about Spencer is true.”

“Of course not,” I said, ducking over my coffee.  “But the guys are my friends, too, and I don’t want them thinking poorly of me, either.”

I could feel his eyes boring into the top of my head.  I lifted my cup to my lips, still avoiding his gaze.

“Why
are you so worried about what people think?” he asked.  “Especially your friends.”

“Because they
are
my friends,” I said, finally meeting his eyes.

“Exactly,” he said, leaning forward.  “They’re your friends.  They know the real you.”

“But…” I started, struggling to explain.  He didn’t understand what had happened over the summer – how we’d lost touch.  He didn’t know that Irelyn and Bailey might actually believe him – might think that I’d changed in the time that we hadn’t spoken.

That thought stirred my anger like a chef whisking a pan of gravy.  Suddenly, I didn’t want to be near him.  I didn’t want to look at him.  What had he done?

“You just don’t understand,” I said, my voice hard.  I gripped my cup in an effort to stop the trembling in my hands.  “You don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” he said.

“Why?  You won’t understand.  You think it’s funny to say stuff like that and you don’t think how it will affect other people.”

“Morgan,” he said, leaning back, running his hands through his hair.  “It was a joke.  I only said it to rile Jessica up.  You should have heard her, going on about you hanging around the bar, making it sound like you were annoying me or something.”

“I don’t care,” I snapped.  “That didn’t give you the right to make up stories about us.  How…embarrassing!  How am I supposed to face them again without being completely humiliated?”

“Morgan,” he said, reaching across the table for my hand.

I stood up, snatching my coat and my purse from the back of my chair.  “I don’t want to hear it.”

I stomped out of the shop without another glance.

Chapter Eleven

My anger hadn’t abated by the next day.  If anything, it was worse.  I still couldn’t believe that Evan would tell tall tales about our relationship.  We’d hardly done more than hold hands and share little kisses and yet he let my friends believe that we were doing… I shuddered to think about it.

Not wanting to dwell on it, I dressed, bundled up against the chill, and grabbed my camera.  I drove to a park a few miles from town and parked.  As I walked the path, I paused only to shoot a picture here or there of bare trees, leaf piles, and the granite sky.  I had a huge project due at the end of the semester; a portfolio of my best work.  Although my professor raved about the fashion photos I’d taken, I wanted to show my versatility and add some nature shots as well as other, various photos.

Taking a break at the empty playground, I sank to a swing, allowing the breeze to ruffle the hair poking out from under my knit cap. 

Evan had called and texted until midnight, apologizing over and over, begging for me to talk to him.  I hadn’t been able to do it.  I hadn’t wanted to hear it.  And, actually, hadn’t known what to say.  I was afraid that I might have overreacted again.  Ever since the huge blowout over the summer, I constantly second guessed
myself, wondering if I was taking things too literally or if I did indeed have a right to be upset.

The wind picked up, nipping at my cheeks.  I rose from the swing and started down the path to the parking lot.

The bitter cold kept the mothers and young children away.  I could almost picture them at home, laughing in a cozy kitchen as they made cookies and sipped hot chocolate with mini marshmallows from matching mugs.

With a slight smile, I followed the meandering path past a frozen duck pond, the occupants long gone for the winter.  Pausing on the wooden bridge, I leaned on the rail, studying the thin layer of ice covering the frigid water underneath, somehow still sustaining aquatic life. It reminded me of how I felt; the outside fragile ice, ready to crack at the slightest weight, while inside, life churned and fought to survive.

Removing my camera from the bag, I aimed the lens at the edges of the pond, where tiny fissures in the ice had formed.  I snapped frame after frame, doing my best to capture the emotion.  Satisfied, I placed my camera back in my bag and continued on my way to the warm car.

***

“Hey, Morg,” Bailey greeted Monday in the cafeteria.  “Is something wrong with your phone?”

“Huh?” I asked as Bailey took the seat across from me.  “I don’t think so.”

Frowning, I removed the phone from my bag.  The screen was dark and I realized that I’d turned it off Saturday evening to avoid Evan’s texts and calls and hadn’t turned it on since.

“Wow,” I said with a laugh.  “How lame am I?  I didn’t even notice that it’s been off.”

Bailey chuckled along with me as she unscrewed the cap off a water bottle.  “Well, Irelyn’s been trying to get a hold of you.  She wants us to go dress shopping tonight.  You available?”

“Um, yeah,” I said.  “Oh, wait – I’m supposed to work.  What time does she want to go?”

“Sixish,” Bailey said.  “In Indy.”

Powering up my phone, I scrolled through my contacts until I found Dante.  I shot him a text, asking if he could cover my shift and I’d come in later and close for him.

“I should be able to switch shifts,” I told Bailey.  “I’ll send Irelyn a text when I know for sure.”

“Cool,” Bailey said.  “How was Thanksgiving?”

“The usual,” I said.  “Yours?”

“Boring,” she said.  “We had dinner at Collin’s parents’ house.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” I said.

“It wasn’t, really,” she admitted.  “It would have been better if I’d been able to have some wine or something.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.”

“We saw Evan on Wednesday night,” Bailey said, a knowing grin forming on her lips.  “He’s funny. I like him.”

Groaning, I placed my fork on my tray.  “He told me what he said…”

“Don’t get upset, Morg,” Bailey said, reaching across the table to clutch my wrist, giving it an affectionate shake.  “We know he was kidding.  I think he was trying to get to Jessica.  That chick is a bitch.  She’s on my last nerve.”

Relaxing, I managed a smile – but only for a moment.  Evan had been right and once again, I’d overreacted.  Would I ever stop?

“Yeah, she doesn’t like me much,” I said as I scrolled through my texts, reading all the ones from Evan.  I’d answer him later, when I was alone.

“She’s jealous,” Bailey said with a shrug.  “She wishes she was as smart and stylish as you.”

“I…” I said, taken aback.  “Thanks.”

Bailey shrugged again.  “So, meet us at Maurice’s Emporium at six, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. 

***

“This one is pretty,” Irelyn said, holding up a blue A-Line, one shoulder, knee length, chiffon gown.

“It is,” I said, tilting my head.  “Do you like the color?”

“I like the color but I think I want something a little longer,” she said, holding the dress away from her body to study it better.

“She wants us all to look like princesses,” Bailey quipped as she pulled a gown from a rack.  “Like this.”

“Um, that’s quite hideous,” I whispered.

Bailey laughed as she held the floor length, bright yellow A-Line gown with puffy sleeves and ruffles at the hem.  “What do you think, Irelyn?”

“Bailey, that’s just…wow.”

We laughed as Bailey shoved the dress back on the rack.  “Okay, so that one is out.”

“How about this?”
I asked as I held up an A-Line/Princess V-neck dress.  It was chiffon and floor length, about as romantic as you could get.  “You could get it in whatever color you want.”

Irelyn shoved the floor length gown she’d been looking at back on the rack and hurried over to me.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, caressing the material.  “What do you think, Bailey?”

“I like it,” she said with a shrug.  I sent her a smile, knowing that she’d agree with anything Irelyn wanted even if she hated it.

Irelyn carried the dress to the counter to inquire about pricing and available colors.  Bailey and I moved over to shoes just as the bell tinkled above the door and Jessica rushed in, her hair tousled from the wind.

“Hey,” she said to Bailey, ignoring me.  “Did you find anything yet?”

“Yeah, I think,” Bailey said, nodding at the dress Irelyn was holding up for the clerk.

“That’s pretty,” Jessica said.

“Morgan found it,” Bailey said as I turned my back on the pair of them and studied the different shoes and dyes.

“Oh,” Jessica said.  I heard someone rummaging through the racks, figuring it was Jessica, ready to outdo my choice.  I wasn’t wrong.  “Irelyn, come look at this.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Jessica holding up a gown similar to mine except sleeveless with a plunging neckline.

“I don’t know,” Irelyn said, frowning.

“It’s more your style,” Jessica insisted.  “Want me to try it on?”

“Sure,” Irelyn said as she handed me the gown I’d selected.  “Morgan, why don’t you try this one on?”

Taking it from her hand, I followed Jessica to the changing rooms.  Quickly, I shed my clothes and stepped into the gown.  I took a second to admire it in the mirror, loving how it hugged my body.

“What do you think?” Jessica asked.  I took that as my cue to exit and show Irelyn the gown I’d chosen.

“Hm,” Irelyn said.  “I like them both.”

“How about color?”
Jessica said, doing a little spin, allowing the material to billow.

“The clerk said I can select any color for any of the gowns,” Irelyn said.  “They custom make all dresses.”

“The neckline is a little low on Jessica’s dress,” Bailey said.

“Morgan would like it,” Jessica said.

I rolled my eyes as I stood still, letting Irelyn get a good look.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Bailey said.  “But if I wear something like that, I’m going to have a problem keeping the girls concealed.  I’m sure Irelyn would be mortified if my boobs pop out during the ceremony.”

I laughed, earning a glare from Jessica that I ignored.

“Bailey’s right,” Irelyn said, sighing at the dress Jessica had selected.  She turned to me with a smile.  “I’ve been looking through magazines and online for weeks now and the dress Morgan is wearing is what I’ve been imagining.”

“Really?” Jessica asked.

Irelyn nodded, a smile bursting on her lips.  “Yes.  That’s the one.”

She turned toward the clerk, nodding.  The clerk hurried forward with an electronic tablet, entering data.  Next, she had us all go into a changing room so she could take our measurements.  Once that was finished, each of us put a deposit down on the dress.

“I’m starving,” Irelyn said as we walked out of the shop.  “Want to grab some food?”

Everyone agreed and we ended up two blocks away at a fast food chicken joint.   When we sat down to eat, everyone began chattering at once, talking about the dresses and other wedding things.

“Who’s going to give you away?” I asked, wiping grease off my fingers with a napkin.

“I think my mom,” Irelyn said with a soft smile.  “I thought about having Tommy but he’s so shy, he said he didn’t want to do it.  Lucas asked him to be a groomsman instead.”

“That’s so sweet!” I said.

“You’ll be walking down the aisle with him,” Jessica said, ripping her chicken apart and popping it into his mouth.  “Collin is best man and Bailey’s walking with him.  I’m walking with Spencer, so that leaves you and Tommy.”

Irelyn bit her lip as she shot me a worried look but I patted her hand.  “I love Tommy.  I don’t have a problem whatsoever walking with him.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Irelyn said.  “He loves you and Bailey.  He remembers that time that you two stayed at my house and we went to the country club for dinner.  He remembers both of you dancing with him.”

“Aw,” I said.  “How’s his piano going?”

“Great,” Irelyn said.  “He loves it.”

We talked about wedding plans until we finished eating and parted ways.  As I drove home, I realized, even more, that Evan had indeed been right.  No one had said a thing about Evan’s comments – just Jessica’s little suggestion about me wearing a cleavage-baring dress. Once I got to Beans, I sent him a short text, telling him I was sorry.  I’d wait until later to call and explain.

Work was slow even though it was it cold and the beginning of the shopping season.  Dante had been fairly busy and I’d thought that it would spill over into my shift.  Unfortunately I was wrong.  I was doomed to spend a slow evening alternating between staring out the window and staring at a text book. 

Evan’s lack of response to my text weighed heavily on my mind and I wondered if I’d waited too late.  Maybe he’d accept my phone call once my shift ended.  Maybe he wouldn’t.  Either way, I had to try.

As I was preparing to close, the door opened and a familiar figure sauntered to the counter.

“What are you apologizing for?” he asked.

Shrugging, I dropped the rag and bottle of cleaner on the counter.  “I guess I overreacted.”

“Nah,” he said, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets.  “I probably shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Well, you were right about Bailey and Irelyn.  They didn’t say anything about it.  I mean, Irelyn didn’t.  Bailey said something, but she laughed about it.  That’s what made me realize how stupid I’d acted.”

“Morgan, we’re just getting to know each other.  These things happen.  You’ll figure out my sick sense of humor with time just as I’ll get to know all your little quirks.”

I blinked.  “Quirks?”

“Yeah,” he said, resting a hip against the counter.  “You have several – didn’t you know?”

“No, I didn’t.  I wasn’t aware that I had any quirks.”

“Oh, sure,” he said.  “I can name a few.”

“Please.”

“Well, there’s the way you study all the time,” he began.

“That’s not a quirk,” I pointed out.  “That’s necessity. I’d like to pass my courses and earn my degree.”

“There’s your obsessive need to be organized,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me. 
“And your impeccable fashion sense.”

“Hold on,” I said, raising a hand. “These aren’t quirks – they’re personality traits.”

Tugging his hands out of his pockets, he planted his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his fists.  “Those things are quirky to me.”

“You are …,” I began, shaking my heads as words escaped me.

“I’m what?” he asked, lifting a brow.  “Cute?  Charming? Irresistible?”

I barked out a short laugh.  “I wasn’t thinking along those lines.”

“Sexy? Hot? Yummy?”

“I’m going to be ill,” I said as I picked up the rag and bottle and proceeded to clean the counter. 
“Violently ill.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Morgan,” he chuckled.  “But you’re the one who begged me to come back.  You couldn’t stand the thought that we might be over.”