12. Helen
Iimmediately regret the decision to wear the outfit Nina picked as soon as I’m out of the house, on my way to meet Shane at the taqueria we agreed upon. As if the clothes weren’t enough of a step outside my comfort zone, Nina also persuaded me into a bold eye shadow and a jaunty little half pony that I never would have attempted on my own. It turns out Nina is sort of pushy, but in a sneaky, quiet way that ambushes a person out of the blue. Like some kind of fashion ninja…?
As I wait for Shane inside La Chaparrita, I’m half tempted to leave on my big puffy coat so no one can see my outfit. If it weren’t for how crowded the front room is, and therefore how warm it is with so many bodies filling the space, I might do it, too. But the thought of sweating through my dress finally forces me into taking off my coat. Surprisingly, there is no spontaneous sex riot at the sight of me in a formfitting outfit. I relax a little, reasoning to myself that the dress is a bigger deal to me than it is to anyone else. Shane probably won’t even notice.
Then again, he’s one minute late. Two, now. Maybe he won’t show up at all! The thought is strangely relieving.
But then the door opens and he enters, wearing a nice shirt and actual shoes instead of barefoot-toe shoes, along with cologne I can smell from even a few feet away. It looks like he’s attempted to control his wild hair, too, with little success, but still, the effort is endearing.
A flutter of anticipation courses through me, and I paste a smile on my face as he approaches…
And then walks past me. Confused, I look after him, observing as he scans the crowd that always congregates around the front counter. It appears that he’s looking for me, which is weird, since he just walked straight past me.
“Shane!” I offer a little wave.
He stares at me blankly before blinking and taking me in. Jaw all but falling open, Shane does a full body scan, his eyes lingering longer than necessary on my breasts, before traveling again up to my face. “Helen?”
Embarrassed, I avert my gaze, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s me. My friend got a little carried away with my outfit, I know.”
When I glance back at Shane, he’s staring at my breasts again, but he snaps his gaze up to mine. “Your friend deserves, like, a trophy or something. A big one.”
I laugh, mostly because I don’t really know what to say, and I resist the urge to cover myself. “Should we get tacos?”
“Hell yeah.” Shane unexpectedly leans in to kiss my cheek, then slides his hand over my shoulder, resting it there as he guides me to the back of the line. To my surprise, he keeps his arm around me, leaning in close to tell me, “This place is really great. Best tacos in Chicago.”
I make a polite noise of interest, refraining from pointing out that he already told me this when we decided to meet up here earlier this afternoon. It isn’t a big deal. Maybe Shane’s nervous, or he just forgot about the conversation. Or maybe he brings a lot of girls here and it all kind of blurs together for him. This is only one date. He doesn’t owe me anything.
I’m surprised, frankly, by his reaction to me. We’ve always mildly flirted in the library, but I never took him seriously; I thought tonight would be more practice than anything else. But even though I’m naive, I’ve read enough romance novels to know what it means when a guy takes every opportunity he can to touch you. Maybe he really is attracted to me.
But am I attracted to him?It’s not something I’ve had to think about before in a real, concrete way. I try to peek over at him surreptitiously to assess him. He’s not my usual type, but he’s a good-looking guy, a little on the young side. But there’s something kind of safe about someone younger. I don’t feel so overpowered, so caught up in my hormones, like I was with?—
No. I’m not going to think about Thaddeus Hughes tonight. I’m not going to spend my evening comparing him to Shane, or picking apart what went catastrophically wrong after he kissed me. I’m not going to notice that the guy standing a few feet ahead of us right now has hair just the same shade of red, or the same build. Thad even has a shirt like that, which always comes a little untucked in the back, something which I always found kind of endearing. Like, here is this absurdly beautiful man who looks like something off the cover of a romance novel but he doesn’t know how to properly tuck in his shirts?—
No, no, no. That’s not just a guy who looks like Thad, I realize as the man turns his profile toward me. That is Thad, the Red Unicorn in the flesh.
As if drawn by my gaze, Thad glances behind him, then does a double take at the sight of me. Like Shane, it takes him a moment to fully recognize me, and when he does, he stares.
A week ago, I might have bought this whole act, when I hadn’t yet heard firsthand just how long he’s been tracing me, pretending to be an avid reader. Accidentally showing up at the same restaurant where I was meeting my friends. Popping up at my writing group. And now, surprise, surprise, here he is at the same taco place I chose for my date with Shane. What. A. Coincidence.
Thad holds my gaze for a long moment, seeming to debate internally before bracing himself and coming over. I fold my arms, determined not to fall for any of his bullcrap.
He opens his mouth as he approaches, but I’m done with the lies and the tricks. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
Thad stops, glancing self-consciously at the cluster of people standing in front of us in line who are now obviously invested in whatever drama is unfolding. “I’m just here for tacos.”
“Sure you are?—”
I might have continued on with something more cutting, hopefully something a little clever, if it wasn’t for Shane guffawing next to me. Thad glances over at him, and—just as he did with me—does a double take.
Shane reaches forward, clapping him on the shoulder. “Hughes—no way. Let me guess: you’re looking for Dean Flanagan, too?”