“You have!” he explodes. “Look at the way you’re fucking dressed!”
“I’m wearing a bathing suit. As is every other person as far as the eye can see.”
“That’s not a bathing suit,” he sneers. “That’s wider-than-average dental floss.”
I know there is nothing wrong with this suit, but I feel ashamed anyway, and I hate him a little for it. “You know what, James? This is the first time in my entire life that I’ve ever worn a bikini, that I decided I didn’t give a shit about whether someone compared me to my mom. And until just now, when you came up and ruined it, it felt amazing. Liberating.” My voice borders on the cusp of tears. I turn toward the house before I lose it completely, but he blocks my path.
“Wait,” he says.
“Get out of my way.”
I pull my sunglasses over my eyes but not before he sees the first tear come trickling down the side of my face. “Shit. Did I make you cry?”
“No,” I rasp.
“Yes I did,” he says helplessly. “Elle, shit. I’m sorry.” He begins to pull me toward him and then comes to an awkward halt, his hand warm on my bare shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing, I just … ”
He stops, and I pull back to look at him, waiting. “I’ve never seen you like that,” he amends. “And it took me by surprise. That’s all.”
“But why are you acting like it’s somehow worse than what any other girl is doing?” I ask. “Ginny wears bikinis. I bet Allison does too. It’s totally normal and you’re trying to make it sound slutty. It’s the same thing you did with the uniform, and you don’t do it to anyone else.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not other girls, Elle. You’re stunning, and your body is … you know,” he stammers awkwardly, not completing the thought, “and I don’t want someone to be attracted to you for just that because you’re so much more. You’re smart and funny and thoughtful and when you’re … on display like this … it draws in guys who don’t care about all the rest.”
Which begs the question: If I’m so many good things, why does he always keep his distance?
Chapter 17
Nick The Lifeguard never shows up at the bar, which surprises me. I go home at the end of my shift with extreme reluctance. Nothing bothers me as much as Allison’s presence here, but Ginny taking her side is a distant second. I’ll get over it, but it’s going to be a while before I’m ready to hear Ginny’s elaborate rationalizations for the way she acted this morning.
Naturally, Max has invited an assload of people over. I have no intention of sitting out on the deck listening to Allison take potshots, but I get upstairs and Ginny has the door locked. I go back down and find Max in the hallway. “Do you mind if I crash in your room for a while? Ginny’s got our door locked and if I have to sit with Allison one of us is going to be losing some hair. You can kick me out when you find your next victim.”
“If I’ve already got you in there, why do I need to look for a victim?” he grins.
I go to his room and curl up on top of the bedspread – no way am I coming in contact with those sheets. I wake with a start when the door opens, momentarily disoriented. The giggling of a girl with below-average IQ helps remind me that I am in Max’s room.
“You can stay,” Max suggests. It’s dark but I can hear the smirk in his voice. His friend giggles at that too, of course.
“Pass,” I groan, walking to the door. “Have fun.”
I open the door and swing into Allison. Her face is smugly triumphant, as if she’s caught me at something.
“You can drop the face,” I tell her. “You know Max was just outside with you 20 seconds ago. Even he’s not that fast. I was just sleeping.”
“No one is safe around you, are they?” she asks with a bitter laugh.
“If James doesn’t want you that has nothing to do with me,” I reply, relishing the way her face grows cold before I turn and walk upstairs.
I go to an early spin class in the morning. When I get home, I find Ginny in bed with her books around her, her jaw set with tension, just like her brother’s is so often. They really look absolutely nothing alike, but in this moment I see the resemblance.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
She shrugs, but the gesture isn’t indecisive so much as it is loaded with rage, as if she has so many accusations to hurl she can’t decide where to start first. “Allison left,” she says. “They broke up.”
“Ah.”
“You don’t seem all that sorry,” she snipes.
“I know you think she’s all yummy things wrapped up in a delicious package, Gin, but I thought she was kind of a bitch.”
Her eyes narrow. “You don’t even know her.”
“And whose fault was that?” I ask. “She began the weekend talking shit about me in my uniform, and the next time I see her she’s throwing the thing with Edward in my face. Not to mention the bullshit with the waffles, and you, of course, taking her side like an eager puppy.”
“I didn’t take her side,” Ginny says. “But you weren’t trying to make her feel welcome, were you?”
“Why should I?” I ask. “She was nothing but nasty and condescending to me every time we were in the same room.”
Ginny huffs. “Guess I’d be the same way if I came outside and found my boyfriend holding hands with someone else.”
“We weren’t holding hands,” I reply. “We were talking about what happened in New York and he just had his hand on my arm, like a comforting thing, and she happened to see it. And besides, he’d already broken up with her, so he wasn’t her boyfriend anymore.”
“He didn’t break up with her,” says Ginny. “He was just confused about everything and throwing out the good with the bad.”
“Whose interpretation is that — yours or Allison’s? Because it sounds not one iota like what I heard from James.”
“Since when are you and James so close?” she asks suspiciously. “But then, I guess you’re close to everyone, aren’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand. “And you know, maybe you should be a little more worried about what makes James happy and a little less about what fits into your plans.”
“Yeah,” she snorts. “Like your life’s turning out so well? I don’t think anyone needs advice from you.”
Chapter 18
“You look a little stressed,” says Max.
Let’s see: one housemate apparently hates me, one appears to be scared of me, and the other has some kind of multiple personality disorder that has him ignoring me one minute and slavishly protecting me the next. What’s stressful about that?
“I think it’s time you meditated,” he suggests.
“You may be right,” I sigh. “Ginny isn’t speaking to me. She blames me for the whole Allison thing.”
“You know what Ginny needs?” Max asks.