Chapter Seventeen Just a Boy and His Guitar #2
On Sunday, Mom and Jason have to be at LeClair Industries early to make sure the picnic is set up properly, so Liv and Sadie drive me to the barbecue.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It could be the outfit; I’ve never dressed like this in my life.
I’m wearing my new purple tank with my plaid skirt, and the tank ended up being cropped, so my whole belly button is showing.
I’m also wearing the black nose ring. When I put that on, it felt and looked so natural on my face.
Like it was meant to be there. Still, I’m kind of expecting Mom to send me home to change when she sees my outfit, even though she’s never policed my clothing in the past.
When we get to LeClair Industries, Noah’s waiting on the curb next to the little grassy space near the parking lot. He stands when he sees me, and my breath hitches in my throat.
He looks… amazing. He’s in his black jeans, and his hair is falling into his eyes like always.
And once again he’s lined his dark eyes in eyeliner, which somehow makes them darker and brighter at the same time.
I can’t believe I have a thing for guys with eyeliner now.
But Noah ticks boxes that I didn’t even know I had.
But there’s something different about Noah today, and it takes me some time to figure out what it is.
It’s his shirt. He’s wearing the Crash on Jupiter shirt like he said he would, and it…
fits. Like, not tightly or anything, but enough that you can see his strong arms. So you can tell that he has a long torso.
It makes him seem older, less like a kid wearing his older brother’s or father’s clothes and more like a fully grown man.
And it’s devastatingly hot. I almost want to get him back into an extra-large shirt, because how am I supposed to pay attention to anything but Noah today?
“You look perfect,” I say, coming toward him after Liv parks her car. “I could not have dreamt up a better bad-boy fake boyfriend than you.”
He frowns for a fraction of a second, and I wonder what word upset him. “Bad”? “Fake”? But then he grins, his eyes going from my purple high-tops to my black nose ring. “You look fantastic too. Love that nose ring on you. Do you think your stepfather will like my shirt?”
I shake my head, grinning. “No. He’s going to hate it.”
“All right, pseudo-lovebirds,” Liv says, clapping her hands. “We need to get to the party before they run out of veggie burgers. They never order enough. Let’s go!”
The picnic is at the back of the plant, in that large perfectly manicured green space that is separated from Gordon Park by nothing but a chain-link fence. It’s weird being on this side of the fence after spending pretty much every day on the other side.
There has to be at least a thousand people here.
I don’t think I fully grasped how many people work at LeClair Industries.
I kind of understand Mom’s worries. At least at the club party, the guests were Jason’s biggest supporters.
But these are LeClair employees, people even less likely to accept Mom, or me.
As we walk toward the front of the crowd to where Sadie says the executive team’s tables are, it feels like every eye is on us.
I did want this attention. I brought Noah and dressed like this because I want people to look at us and think we don’t belong here.
But my heart is beating heavily in my chest. After being good for so long, looking like a bad kid feels weird. My hand fists.
Suddenly there are fingers on my wrist, and they gently slide to my hand, coaxing my fingers apart. Noah. I look up at him. “We should be holding hands, right?” He smiles. It’s his I got you smile.
I smile back, squeezing his hand. It’s warm and strong in mine, and I’m pretty sure this is the first time we’ve had skin-to-skin contact, without thick gardening gloves between us.
I try my hardest not to notice his guitar-playing calluses or pay attention to the fact that, despite his long slender fingers, his palm is wider than mine.
I don’t look down at our connected hands even though I want to see if they look like they belong together as much as they feel like they do.
I glance at Sadie, who’s holding Liv’s hand. She gives me a questioning expression, as if asking how fake this hand-holding is.
I smile, wordlessly telling her that I’ve got this under control. Even though I very much don’t have this under control.
We continue to walk through the crowd, which is surprisingly diverse. Liv and I are not the only ones with brown skin here, and Noah isn’t the only guy with tattoos and piercings.
But when we get to the front of the crowd, where long rectangular tables have been set up for the executives and their families, we stand out more. Noah is the only one in a band shirt. I think I have the shortest skirt on.
My mother comes toward us. She’s wearing a blue-and-red floral off-the-shoulder dress with a thin blue belt and a floppy hat.
She looks beautiful but also ridiculous.
This is a company barbecue, not horse races or something.
But I suppose she matches Jason, who’s wearing white pants, a red-and-white striped shirt, and a navy blazer.
Who wears a blazer to a picnic? No wonder people think he’s out of touch with the everyday man.
“Meera, you’re here!” Mom says without even an eyebrow twitch about my outfit. “And, Noah, how wonderful to see you again.”
I glance at Jason’s face to see if his politician smile finally cracks when he notices Noah’s shirt.
It doesn’t. He shakes Noah’s hand, saying it’s nice to see him again, and tells us to help ourselves to the food in the caterer’s tent. They turn away to shake hands with someone else.
“That went well,” I say, sarcastically, because it did not go well.
I didn’t expect surprise because they knew Noah was coming this time, but Mom barely reacted to me being dressed more like Noah than her today.
And Jason didn’t seem to care that Noah was wearing a shirt with the logo of his former band on it.
“He didn’t even flinch when he saw your shirt. ”