That Girl (That Girl, #1)(26)
Sitting in that stadium with Lincoln is the closest I’ve ever felt to being a normal person. There weren’t any fears, scars, or memories haunting my every thought or action as I let Lincoln kiss me that night. I never doubted him when he told me I was even more beautiful in the stadium lighting. I soaked up every word he spoke to me, and even learned a shit-ton about the game. I think I fell as much in love with the stadium as Lincoln is, and a piece of my heart fell for him under the bright lights.
“I love you, Lincoln Wilks,” I breathe into my pillow, wondering if I’ll ever be brave enough to speak those words to his face.
Then I send a silent prayer hoping to find the courage one day.
***
Only three more hours here, then a thirty-minute wait for Lincoln to pick me up. I’ll admit I’m not thrilled about where we’re going, but damn f*cking jacked to be with him. The day can’t possibly move any slower, and I’ve been realizing this fact as August draws nearer. The days, afternoons, and evenings drag ass, but when the night hits, time flies by.
“Hey, girl, hey,” Jenni sings.
She’s been visiting me more and more in the coffee shop. Her chatter is helpful in easing the pain of time. She quickly picked up on my attitude and the very hot customer who’d drop by every once in a while. Yes, it just so happened every time she was there, and I do mean every time, Lincoln showed up.
It took about three visits before I figured out he hated coffee, which made it very obvious why he was stopping by.
“Hi, Jenni.”
She caught me doodling in my notebook since business was dead and all my cleaning was finished.
She angles her head, trying to see what I’m doing. “What are you drawing?”
“Just doodles.” Holding up the notepad I show her the sketch I’ve been working on.
“That looks like the stadium.”
“Ha. It is. Just messing around.”
“It’s very good.”
“Thanks. What are you up to?”
“Just chillaxing before the big party tonight. I got invited by some old friends.”
Do I tell her I’m going to the same party and hopefully avoid her inevitable freak out when she sees me there? Trying to sound casual, I go for it. “Lincoln is taking me there too.”
“Are you shitting me? Holy shit! You have to be shitting me right now. You’re going to the ‘Back to School Bash’ with a football player. Hold the phone, bitches, not just any football player, but the Lincoln Wilks.”
“Yeah, he’s been begging, and I finally gave in.”
“What the f*ck is wrong with you?” she screeches. “I mean my God, you don’t pass up opportunities like this. I don’t care if you were a blind mute, you’d still jump on shit like this.”
“Is shit the word of the day, and I missed the public service announcement?”
“I’m still in shock. Here I’m freaking out over not having shit to wear, and you’re going with Lincoln. I suck shit. End of story.”
And this is what I’ve grown to love about Jenni. You can point something out straight to her face, and she’ll still go on doing what she wants. Clearly, today it’s the overuse of the word shit.
“What am I going to wear?” I wonder out loud.
She gives me an assessing once-over. “Well, what do you want to portray? You have several options. The slut who won Lincoln, the nice girl who won Lincoln, or just the girl with Lincoln.”
“Definitely the last choice. Nothing too obvious. I want to blend in and just hang on his arm and get the f*ck out of there.”
“Well, I agree with most of that. I’d want to get out of there, too, and have that man candy in my bed, but I’d be shining with glitter, and you could bet your sweet ass on that.”
“What do most girls wear to this thing?”
“Well, I didn’t go last year, but I did my freshman year when I was still at CSU, and most girls were just in short shorts and tiny tanks.”
“Okay, I got this.”
“I need to go tan, wax, and get my groove on. Hope to see you tonight.” She bounced toward the door.
“Bye, Jenni.”
She has way too much time on her hands. I’m still blown away by all the different things she does to her body. I really thought those things were just made up in the movies. I had no idea grown women actually paid other grown women to rip out their pubic hairs. I’m still not sure I believe it.
A knocking sound pulls me from my gory thoughts. It’s Jenni at the drive-thru window.
“You’ll need a swimming suit. Don’t forget that.”
“Okay,” I reply.
Mentally noting to forget a swimming suit because I won’t be wearing one, I check the clock again to see how many hours are left before I can go home and figure out what to wear.
***
My tiny closet is emptied, and my dresser is bare. Everything I own is on the floor, and I’m no closer to being ready than I was ten minutes ago. I came straight home from work, showered, styled my hair, and threw on an over-sized shirt while digging for an outfit.
The last trip to the grocery store, I bought some mascara and eyeliner. It’s as much makeup as I’ve ever worn. I must say eyeliner is magic; it really makes my brown eyes pop. I’ve always been blessed with long, thick lashes, so it’s fun applying mascara. But I’m sure if you took a before and after photo you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.