Just One Year(29)

“You’ve spent the past couple of nights at the girlfriend’s place. I didn’t think you came home last night.”

“Yeah, well, I did. It was late.”

“I must have been asleep. I was tuckered out after a long day of sightseeing.”

“Sightseeing with whom?”

“Teagan showed me around Boston.”

I braced for his response, but it didn’t immediately come.

“Did she now...” Caleb finally said.

“Yeah. She took me to a few of the touristy places. It was a really nice time. She’s a great girl.”

Caleb said nothing to that, and without seeing his face, it was difficult to surmise whether he was angry or unaffected.

“How come I haven’t met your girlfriend?” Archie asked. “You hiding her from me or something?”

“No. I just don’t bring her to the house. I don’t invite friends here.”

Not sure if Archie understood that was a dig, but I certainly did.

“We should go out sometime,” Archie said. “I’d love to meet her.”

“Oh yeah? You like being the third wheel?” Caleb taunted.

“No. I’ll ask Teagan if she wants to come along.”

Again, another pause.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Caleb said.

Oh?

“Mind telling me why?”

“Teagan is not your type.”

What the hell does that mean?

“Not my type?”

“That’s right.”

“She’s beautiful and sweet. Why is that not my type?” Archie asked.

Before Caleb could answer, I heard the sound of additional voices. My family had returned from church, interrupting the conversation.

Damn it!

Why wasn’t I Archie’s type? Was I not pretty enough...sexy enough? Why wasn’t I dateable?

***

That entire afternoon, I obsessed over the answer to Archie’s question. I couldn’t exactly ask Caleb what he’d meant when I wasn’t supposed to have heard their conversation.

But I was hurt. I was hurt that he’d discouraged his friend from asking me out—not because I wanted to go out with Archie, but because I cared how Caleb felt about me. And if I wasn’t the type of person who was worthy of being asked out on a date, what type was I? The type of person you befriend but don’t covet, don’t respect, don’t love? What did he mean?

Kai knocked on the outside door to my bedroom just as I’d nearly been swallowed by my own anxiety.

She frowned when I opened the door. “What the hell is going on, Teagan?”

After I told her the story of what I’d overheard, she seemed adamant that there was only one next step.

“If Archie asks you out, you go.”

“But I don’t like him that way. He’s handsome, but—”

“It doesn’t matter whether you actually like him or not. You need to prove Caleb wrong. You are the type of person Archie would want to date.”

The more she spoke, the more worked up I got. I had never cared much about what people thought of me. But for some reason, I cared what Caleb thought. Did he really see me as undateable?

“And who exactly is the type of person Archie would want to date?” I asked.

Kai twirled her long, black hair. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps someone who lets her hair down once in a while, someone who doesn’t hide her body. Someone with sex appeal?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “You know that’s not me. That’s not who I am.”

“I’m quite aware of that. But this isn’t about your norm. It’s about stepping out of your comfort zone and proving a point at the same time. Any guy would be lucky to date you. Anyone who says otherwise is a damn fool.”

***

Kai had gotten me all riled up. I’d never admitted the true reason for hiding my sexuality to her. She didn’t know how deeply rooted my issues were and how hard I’d always tried not to resemble my birth mother who abandoned me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to experiment with my sexuality. Even though nothing was going on between Caleb and me, just having him around made me feel more connected to my feminine side—the sexual side. His presence meant there was a sexual energy in my life whether I liked it or not. And I mostly liked it. Okay, I loved it—when I wasn’t pissed at him for potentially insulting me, that is.

Looking in the mirror, I wondered if maybe I could play around a bit. I took down my hair and brushed through it. It was very thick—long and straight, light brown with natural blond highlights. I could probably count on my hands the number of times I’d worn it down since the age of about fifteen.

And there was nothing in my wardrobe that could be considered sexy or revealing. That was intentional—though some items were more appealing than others. My typical garb consisted of roomy T-shirts, jeans, and Chucks. I grabbed one of the few fitted shirts I owned before slipping off my T-shirt and changing. The ample breasts I tried so hard to hide were now completely outlined by the thin, clingy fabric. Changing out of my jeans, I replaced them with a pair of black, curve-hugging leggings. Kicking off my sneakers, I put on a pair of black ballet flats Maura had bought me one Christmas, probably hoping I’d take the hint. But alas, the box had never even been opened up until now.