Blindness(35)

“Well, I don’t know. What’s good here?” Cody says, toying with her a little. He leans forward, cutting off my view so all I see is his bicep and her syrupy fake smile. I feel like I’m going to be sick, so I push into Gabe.

“Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom. Order for me, please,” I say, almost pushing him out of my way. I rush from the table, dragging my purse with me, and head to the back of the restaurant, hoping like hell that’s where the restrooms are. Thankfully, karma is playing nice with me today, and I rush through the door marked Women’s and drop my purse on the counter next to the sink. I lean forward and look at myself closely in the mirror.

I look ridiculous—no wonder Cody’s giving his attention to miss hot-ass waitress out there. Here I am, my hair pulled into a low ponytail, my shirt a button-up blouse, and my jeans high on my waist. I look like a soccer mom—a 21-year-old soccer mom.

Angry, I pull my hair out of its band and tip my head over, fluffing out the crease, and letting my waves grow. I can’t do much about my outfit, but I can touch up my makeup, so I pull out my eye pencil and darken the line under my eyes. I realize I’m going to look desperate before I put on my lipstick and decide to stop there and head back out to our table.

The waitress is gone when I come back. Gabe sees me first, and he chuckles to himself. He kicks Cody under the table to get his attention, and when he looks up at me, he does an actual double take. I’m both humiliated and pleased.

Gabe slides out so I can slide back in, and before they both start to tease me, I make up an excuse. “My head is killing me. I can only wear the ponytail so long,” I say, rubbing my skull with my fingertips. That’s a flat-out lie, because I could wear a ponytail to my grave, but I’ll work on changing that habit now that I’ve told the story.

Cody smiles at me, and I sense his suspicion, but he’s too nice to say anything. And I have a strange feeling Gabe’s on my side, so I don’t think he’ll tease me either. Within minutes, our food is in front of us, and we’re all finally occupied with eating.

“So, haunted house?” I ask, after I’ve sucked down an entire pancake and all of the bacon. Cody was right—the pancakes were a good idea.

“Yeah, so…we go every year. It’s this old historic farmhouse; they deck it out. It’s pretty sick. And they have one of those corn mazes. It’s a ton of fun. And you can meet my girlfriend, Jessie. We could go tomorrow night, before you leave for the weekend,” Gabe says, rushing me with information, and giving me little opportunity to say no.

Cody’s eyes are back on me, and I feel them. The waitress is at our table, giving us our bill, but his attention this time is on me, and I feel oddly victorious. I don’t know if it’s my win over madam-slutty-waitress—she’s not really that slutty, but I hate her regardless—or if it’s the rush of Cody’s last touch on my arm, but I say, “Yes,” to Gabe without hesitation.

“Great! How about we meet you two there? Around seven?” Gabe says, flicking his napkin at Cody to get his attention.

“Seven works,” Cody says, looking at me for confirmation.

“Yeah, seven. Perfect,” I say, realizing what I’ve just done. I’ve made a date—with my boyfriend’s stepbrother. Oh god!





Chapter 8: Catch me if I fall





Gabe and Cody both dropped me off at my car after the diner, and by the time I got home, I had one missed call from Trevor. He was already gone by the time I called him back, “Out with the Sumners,” he said. In my message, I told him I had been at tutoring and just ate dinner on campus since his parents are never really here for a formal dinner.

Trevor didn’t call me back until the morning, and when he did, our conversation was short and sweet—which left me little time to spin lies. Trevor’s excited about my trip, and part of me is, too. But not as excited as I am to go to a haunted house with Cody. I’ve turned into a junior-high girl, and I can’t seem to stop the onslaught of bad decisions I’m making. I’m an addict.

In full-on withdrawals, I’m standing in the middle of my bathroom, my hair wrapped in one towel, and my body wrapped in another. I felt like a child yesterday at the restaurant when that waitress caught Cody’s attention, and I want to make a statement tonight—but what that statement is I have no idea.

I don’t really have a style. I’m vanilla—plain, blank…a canvas. I know how to put on make up, but I always seem to turn out looking like I’m ready for a graduate exam or an interview. I sift through my closet, which is full of blazers and blouses and tailored pants. During my internship, I work in a drafting studio at a high-top desk most of the day—my look, the only one I seem to have, revolves completely around this one small fact of my life.

I’m almost sad that I’m so void of color and identity, but I’m not even aware enough to be sad. I step out into my room and slide open the iPad for inspiration, going to some of the popular fashion websites. I blow past the pictures of pencil skirts and heels—I’m going to be walking through corn, so I need to be practical at some level. I land on the celebrity pages, and then it hits me.

I rush to my dresser and pull out black leggings and slide them up my legs. I drop the towels from my head and body and walk to my closet. Flipping through the hangars almost manically, I finally spot the gray sweater hanging sideways, half folded, on a wooden hanger in the back. I slip it on, and follow it up with my warm Ugg boots.