Losing Me, Finding You(6)

But someone is trying to peek inside the curtain. I quickly shove the book under my sweater (being careful not to wrinkle the cover) and rip my shirt off, so that I've got nothing covering my top half expect for my very tasteful, very dull, laceless, nude bra.

“Is everything alright in here?” my mother asks, smiling at me with her mouth but not her eyes. These remain irritated and keep flicking back to Jodie like maybe Mama wants to slap her as much as I do.

“Fine,” I say, and she retreats as quickly as she came. I sigh, certain that my cousin's whimpering will cover up the sound, and stand up. My skirt drops to the floor in a pool of cream fabric and leaves my very tasteful, very dull, laceless, nude panties open for the mirror to grab and reflect back at me. I turn towards it and stare at my pointy chin, my round eyes, my gently parted lips. I don't look twenty-one, I think as I drop a strap of my bra over my shoulder and try to make a sexy face in the mirror. Sixteen, maybe? My hot-lady face actually makes me look grotesque, so I stop doing it and throw my bra to the floor before grabbing the eighties dress and throwing it on before I can convince myself not to.

“Oh my God!” Jodie squeals as I step out from behind the curtain and convince myself to smile as my cousin takes my hand and spins me in a slow circle. “You look absolutely stunning!” I look like a deranged Malibu Barbie.

“Thanks,” I say blandly, my voice as colorful as a bowl of my father's cornflakes. My mother and I manage to lock eyes, and I can see that she knows I'm uncomfortable in the dress. I'm sorry, she mouths, much the same way as she does when I get caught in one of my father's lectures like a fly in a web. And, in that same fashion, she does nothing to help me out.

Jodie quickly tires of me and goes back to flinging dresses across the metal racks with a horrid screeching sound that makes my teeth hurt. I glance toward the front window of the shop longingly, watching the people pass by in their leather and their chains and their inked skin. Some glance into the shop, but their eyes pass right over me, eighties dress and all.

I stand there, and I will something to happen, anything. Maybe a motorcycle could come flying through the window? Or maybe a fight could break out outside, something with tire irons and lots of grunting and cursing? Or maybe Austin could walk by and give me another glimpse of those taut muscles, sweat running down the lines of his biceps, dripping to the cement and sizzling? I sigh again and tap Jodie on the shoulder.

She spins to face me with a bewildered look in her eyes, like maybe she forgot I was there, too.

“I think I'm going to take the dress off,” I say. “Wouldn't want to ruin it before the big day.”

Without waiting for her response, I start to turn away.

And then I see him.

Standing in the window.

I see Mr. Austin Motorcycle.

I stare at him for a long, long time, wondering if it's my imagination (I have a very vivid one, thank you very much) or if he's really there.

Austin grins, nice and big, flashing me beautiful teeth in an otherwise crooked mouth, one that has a teeny, tiny scar on his right side, making it pinch a bit when he mouths something at me. I don't respond; I just stare. I stare and I stare and I stare. I do that for so long that my aunt, my cousin and my mama all turn to grab a look-see.

Just as I'd imagined, Austin has sweat running down his forehead and his arms, coaxed from his skin by the summer sun, glinting bright in the early afternoon light. I try not to stare at a drip that slides down the bridge of his nose and hangs there, tantalizing somehow. I shiver and shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts and get a hold of myself. I blink, and when I open my eyes, Austin is gone.

The bells that hang from the front door jingle, and I have to quell a mixture of fear and excitement.

He's coming inside.



Chapter 4

Oh my f*cking stars, little Amy Cross, I think as I walk into the bridal shop and pause with my hands on my hips and a smirk on my face. I can't help it; she looks so damn cute in her ugly, purple dress.

“Hey, beautiful,” I say, catching a glimpse of Mireya outside the front window. Course she followed me over here. I stopped mid-kiss to walk my ass down the block and find out where the hell I'm supposed to meet this girl tonight. Guess that thought sort of slipped my mind earlier. Maybe I was too focused on those big, round eyes and those full lips that she tugs between her teeth at the slightest provocation, the ones that tell me there's no way this girl is as angelic as she looks.

“Excuse me?” some lady asks from my left. I glance over at her. Oh boy, there's the mama, I think as I take in the brown hair, the heart-shaped face, the puckered lips. “Who are you?” Mama looks horrified. I smile and reach up to tip my imaginary hat; manners are so much easier with a f*cking hat.

“'Scuse me, ma'am,” I say, and I turn my gaze back to Amy who's tilted her head to the side, hair falling in a silken wave over her shoulder. She looks a bit dumbstruck and if I'm honest with myself, so am I. What the hell you doing down here, Austin Sparks? Shit. If you didn't look like a dumb ass before, you sure do now. I do my best to come up with a lie on the spot. Sadly, I'm pretty damn good at those. The words fall from my mouth like God's honest truth. “I meant to give Miss Amy here a brochure, just in case she was serious about her offer.” I'm trying to be subtle here, but when I see Amy cringe, I know that I've f*cked up royally. I wet my lips and pull out the wrinkled brochure that's stuffed in my back pocket.