Outcast: A Novel Part 23

Lacy'd brought over several clothing bags worth of stuff, plus some makeup and hair product, and we set to work trying to find the perfect outfit.

Of course, this was going to be tricky as we had very different body shapes. She was skinny all over, and I was, well, not.

"I'm so jealous of your curves," she said as she laid out some dresses on my bed.

"Don't be. They make you look fat even if you're not."

"That's just ' shoved in his mouthelOkay, llcause you don't know how to dress them." She took a step back to examine the different options, then grabbed a short purple dress with a little bow on the shoulder. "Try this."

I sighed, slipped out of the dress I was wearing, and put it on. It was tight across the shoulders and bust, a little baggy at the waist and tight again at the hips.

"This is going great," I said, and peeled it off quickly.

"First try. Don't be so impatient. This takes time," she replied.

Indeed it did. Lots and lots of time. I'm not sure exactly how many outfits Lacy had brought, but I'd seen her closet, and I imagined she'd brought most of it with her. It was exhausting putting on then taking off all the different options. I was reminded of why I hated shopping so much. The tiny fan in my room hardly helped keep the heat at bay, and I was turning into a sweaty mess. Maybe that's why fas.h.i.+on models were so skinny. Who knew getting dressed could be such great exercise?

"We're running out of options," I said as I took off a sleeveless white blouse and short black skirt.

I knew Lacy understood that, but she just raised her hand to silence me.

"Lacy, this is pointless...maybe I should just wear one of my summer dresses."

"You are not wearing one of those. That'd be like wearing your school uniform on a date, you wear them so d.a.m.n often."

"Lacy."

She turned to me with her hands on her hips. "Riley. Trust me. Go shower. Time's getting close. I'll figure something out. Besides, I need you out of my hair anyway. Y'all are getting seriously annoying."

I was too tired and hot to argue back. So I grabbed my towel and left her to her own devices. Taking a shower turned out to be a pretty good idea, actually. It was a nice break from trying on clothes, and I felt fantastic after. I took my time, standing under the showerhead and closing my eyes, letting the water cascade over me. For this brief moment, I felt relaxed again. If I couldn't be aiming at moving targets, a shower would do for now, I supposed.

When I was finished I dried my hair with my towel, then wrapped myself up in it and headed back to my room. I was greeted by Lacy standing at the foot of my bed holding up a red dress on a hanger. She looked pretty p.i.s.sed off.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Riley, what is this?" she asked.

"A dress. My mother gave it to me for Christmas."

"And you've had this in your closet the whole time we've been going through my stuff?"

"I guess."

Lacy flung the dress onto the bed behind her, and threw her hands up into the air. "Oh my G.o.d, Riley. Do you know how much time we've wasted? Could you put on the gorgeous red dress now, please?"

"It's not going to fit," I said. "It's too small."

"It isn't, trust me," she replied, and sat down on the bed, crossing one leg over the other and raising an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged and sighed. Then I put on some underwear and a bra and slipped the dress over my head. I had to wriggle a bit to get it down around my hips, but finally it was on, and I turned to Lacy, and, imitating her, put my hands on my hips.

"Happy?" I asked.

Lacy furrowed her eyebrows and stared at me hard. Then her face opened up and she smiled.

"It shoved in his mouthimK2's perfect."

"No, it's not!" I replied with a laugh.

"Riley," she said standing up and opening my closet to reveal the full-length mirror inside the door, "it is."

I turned and looked. I couldn't believe what I was looking at, which was, well, me. The dress wasn't too small after all. It had some stretch in the fabric that made it just right to cling to my torso but also accentuate my waist. The skirt had a slight A-line to it, not too much, but enough that it flowed gently out from my hips and off my thighs nice and loose so I could walk around easily in it. The neckline was almost square, except that, where the sides came up, they angled in a bit. I just loved the short little sleeves that Lacy had described as "capped".

"It's so totally vintage but not old-fas.h.i.+oned. Oh my G.o.d, Gabe is so going to love this. It's so his era." She pa.s.sed me a thick black leather belt to finish off the look.

That's probably why my mother chose the dress in the first place, I thought as I tied the belt around my waist. Of course, she didn't know Gabe was from the 1950s, she just thought he looked like he was from then. That's why she'd got him the James Dean jacket.

"It's not bad," I finally confessed, turning from side to side and examining myself in the mirror.

"Riley, you've got to start owning your looks, otherwise people are going to start to think you're full of yourself."

I looked at her and I realized she was right. I didn't think I'd ever feel like I looked as good as she did, but the reflection in the mirror really wasn't that bad.

"Okay," I said.

Lacy smiled and then clapped her hands together. "Right! Time to get started on makeup and hair."

I tried to memorize everything Lacy was doing to me. I'd never known how to take care of my hair, which wasn't really curly or straight. But she had some kind of magic product that made the wave look like it was on purpose. She put a sparkly clip in my hair on the right side, but left the other side free. "To go with the 50s theme," she explained.

My makeup she did really simply, a little liner aroundome of my eyes and mascara. I refu that,"

My parents were invited into the room next, and it felt how I imagined it must feel when you're a bride showing off your wedding dress. Could we just get this all over with, please? I swear my mother practically had tears in her eyes finally seeing her daughter wearing something she'd bought her. Daddy just gave me a big hug. Finally they said they were going to stay out of my way and go to their room so Gabe and I could meet up and leave without it being all awkward with them watching us.

"That's so cool of them," said Lacy as we headed downstairs. "My mom would've been there with a camera. My dad with a shotgun."

I laughed, and it was a good thing I did too because I didn't notice that we were in the main hall at the top of the stairs now, and that Gabe was standing at the bottom looking up at me.

But then, of course, I did notice. I'd never felt more self-conscious walking was the t sh. Could down a flight of stairs before in my life. I think for a moment there I actually forgot how. Thank G.o.d for banisters.

I had to avoid eye contact with Gabe. I noticed the paintings on the walls for the first time in years, how the carpet really needed to be washed, that the window above the door had a little crack in it.

"Hey, sweetheart," said Gabe when I reached the bottom.

I finally looked up at him but still not directly in the eyes. He was in dark jeans and one of the s.h.i.+rts my mother had got him for Christmas too. Her evil plan was apparently going perfectly. On top of that was his leather jacket, and I had to admit that we looked pretty darn perfect together.

"Hey."

"You look pretty darn perfect," he said.

"Thanks. You look good too."

"Not as good as you, but you make me look better, so that's all that counts. Nice necklace."

"You like it?" I asked with a grin.

"Kinky." He gave me a wink. "Hey, Lacy."

"Hey, Gabe," said Lacy with a smile. "Doesn't she look fantastic?"

"d.a.m.n straight. Come on," he said and took my hand. I felt that same kind of electric shock as I had that day out in the front when he'd escaped from the shed. This night was going to be unbearable.

He led me out the front door and onto the veranda, where his bike was sitting waiting for us. Well, I guess, yeah, it made sense. And it was time, too. Despite my protests, I really did kind of want to try being on a motorbike, and tonight was very much a night of firsts.

"She can't get on the bike!" Lacy came up from behind and pushed her way protectively between us.

"Sure she can. You ain't scared, are you?" Gabe looked at me with a slight smile.

"No..." Maybe a little.

"Gabe, we just spent an hour getting her ready for this, doing her hair, her makeup, you can't just put her on the back of a bike!"

"Lacy, it's okay, don't worry," I said.

"No, it isn't okay," she replied turning to me. "I put a lot of work into this."

"And I'm grateful. But it'll be fine. Thanks a lot for all the help."

"Fine, whatever, but don't come crying to me about helmet hair."

"That really won't happen."

"Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

"Thanks, Lacy." I leaned in and gave her a hug.

"Whatever." She gave me a quick hug back then pulled away. Then she shook her head at me and stomped down the front steps, over to her car, and took off in a flurry of dust. It seemed a bit of an overreaction to me, but I guess making me over was a bit more work than she'd expected, and now she thought it was all going to waste. I made a mental note to try to keep everything in place for as long as it was possible. Which would be hard as I was already finding the lip gloss a little too sticky for my liking.

Gabe practically skipped down the stairs to his bike. I wanted to follow him but I just stayed were I was. I felt stupidly uncomfortable. I felt so uncomfortable I debated just turning around and running back inside. My face was hot, my stomach was all twisted up in knots. It was one of those run-up-to-your-room-and-dive-under-the-covers-and-hide-till-everything-was-safe kinds of situations.

"You coming?" asked Gabe.

"Yeah, of course." I still couldn't make eye contact with him.

"'Cause it looks like you're just standing there."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Just like Lacy, I stomped my way down the stairs. When I made it to the bike he handed me a helmet.

"Thanks."

"Riley?"

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"Sure, why?"

"Uh, because you haven't made eye contact with me once."

Oh so now he was ready to be perceptive.

I examined the helmet carefully and didn't answer.

"What's going on?" he asked.

I felt stupid. Evidently I was way more comfortable with the idea of leading armies and shooting non-angels than going on a date with a boy.

"I can't do this." For the first time I looked up at him. When I did I realized why I'd instinctively avoided looking at him. His eyes just melted my heart. I felt so...vulnerable.

"Is it 'cause of Chris?"

"What?" Oh, that's what he was thinking. "No, no. I mean...look I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't think it was time, it's just..."

"What is it?" He took a step toward me. He never seemed to appreciate just how overwhelming those little steps toward me were.

Fine, he wanted to know, fine.

"Well, what it is is this. I'm scared okay? I'm scared."

He laughed. "What the heck is there to be scared of?"

"Of you, you idiot!"

Gabe opened his mouth and then shut it again. I'd definitely silenced him. We stood there staring at each other in quiet. It was much easier to make eye contact with him in anger.

Finally he spoke. "Of me?" He said it really quietly. It was almost adorable.

"Yeah."

Gabe nodded a few times and then turned toward his bike. "So you still don't trust me."