3
“It just seems like you don’t go out much is all I’m saying,” Sadie says to me in the bathroom mirror. I sigh, annoyed that she can lean against the door like that, perfectly-waved light brown hair and teal-blue eyes, and so easily read me like a book, even though she’s three years younger. I offer the same excuses again, trying to hide my discouragement.
“He’s busy working, traveling for their company. I have finals down on campus and he’s not even in college anymore,” I explain. “It’s a grown up relationship, we’re not still in high school.”
She ignores my dig at her, “Oh, I’m sure things between guys and girls are going to be so wildly different when I’m at OU in a few months. Pft! Suze, if a guy likes you, he takes you out more than once a month.”
I grab my hairbrush and start aggressively brushing. “I told you, he’s been gone!”
He has. Josh travels to various construction jobs in development all over Oklahoma, Texas, Kansas and maybe further. But he has taken me out when he’s been home. They’re strategic, public dates, so we can be seen together by the right people in the right families, but still fun. We’ve laughed, danced, held hands—
“Have you guys even kissed?” Sadie cuts me off, squinting for the truth.
“Yes!”
Kind of.
“Well? How was it?”
“It was great.” I try but she’s not picking up what I’m putting down. I try harder. “Fine, it was super hot, okay? And he’s more experienced than me and I’m nervous and hoping for a repeat tonight so will you just help me please? Which shirt?”
“Neither. They’re both snorefests. Let’s find a dress or at least a short skirt. C’mon.” She motions toward her closet and I’m beyond relieved that the conversation is moving on.
Because I hate this.
I’m not lying, technically. But I’m not being truthful with her for the first time and not only does it make me twitchy, it makes me kind of sad. I wish I could tell her the truth. I wish I could blurt out that he barely opened his mouth for our last kiss and then proceeded to kiss my forehead and my nose before saying, “Don’t worry, Suze, we’ll take it slow.”
Who said they wanted to go slow?
Every brush of his fingertips lights me up like the Fourth of July fireworks show Canton Cards put on for the whole city last summer. He’s so effortlessly fun and gorgeous and magnetic. Like if this were a classic Disney cartoon he’d have birds flying around him and wild foxes following behind his feet. I’m drawn to him, and I’m not the only one.
Women everywhere stare like he’s an alien specimen. But he ignores their flirting and instead flirts with me. It’s innocent, winks and laughs and inside jokes. It’s not sexy flirting yet. But still, having his attention is intoxicating…not that I’ve ever been intoxicated. But I’ve felt giggly after too many wine spritzers. It feels like that but way better.
“What are you guys doing?” Skye asks, frowning. She’s a shorter, darker, frizzier, grumpy version of the two of us. She cocks her head as she watches Sadie rip through her closet, tossing things from the floor, pulling stuff out of the laundry bin, even spastically pulling down hangers.
“We’re helping Susan get kissed.” Sadie jokes.
“Oh.” Skye says like she could possibly understand. She’s fifteen and fully into her Angry Rebel phase. I bet she writes boys suck! in her sketchbooks.
I laugh at what Sadie said but secretly hope she’s onto something because whew, the flirting gets me so…worked up.With every smirk, wink, hug, lick of his lips…I have to fight the urge to just rip off my shirt and yell, “Take me to bed or lose me forever!” Meg Ryan style.
Not that I’ve ever been to bed. It’s been so hammered into my head what a sin that is, I’m not sure I could go through with that before marriage. Funny how most of the guys I know, who also grew up in church, didn’t seem to hear that sermon series.
I sure did. Which I think Josh must know, hence the not really kissing me. It can’t be a surprise to him, given the Canton family reputation. Dad almost put the word wholesome in the company slogan a few years ago.
It’s also no surprise to me that Josh is on the opposite end of the experience spectrum. At least, I’m guessing. We haven’t talked about it yet but he was a Division One basketball superstar, then an NBA player. He’s probably had, like, ten drunken one-night-stands. Maybe more.
Doesn’t matter. All those girls were his before, and I’m going to be his after. I’m the one getting a ring and taking his name. Hopefully. Dad says I can call this whole thing off, but he doesn’t mean it. Josh, on the other hand, could still cancel this arrangement if he really wanted to. The Bells are getting a good deal from us, since we owe them. This isn’t a balanced partnership.
Which is why I have to convince Josh I’m not some precious flower. I need him to want to see me as his wife. And a guy needs to want to have sex with his wife.
I do know some things, thanks to my best friend Megan. Well, not so much Megan but rather her mom’s smutty romance novel collection we found in the guest bedroom closet. I learned at least ten different ways to describe a man’s penis, like rod of pleasure or velvety staff. I almost laugh again, because the word staff will forever be associated with Moses in my brain.
“How about this, it’s short?” Sadie snaps me back to the issue at hand with a short, purple sheath dress.
I shake my head.
Josh is only a few years older than me but we seem worlds apart. I’m still in college and he’s out traveling for the family business already. He even bought his own house, which I hope to see soon, since that’s where we’ll probably live after the wedding.
If there even is a wedding.
I need for there to be a wedding.
I’m not going to be the prude goody-two-shoes overachiever that underachieves when it matters most and costs my family everything.
“That’s plain just like the shirts.” I say. She pulls out a black strapless dress and holds it up and I cock my head. “Maybe? It looks long.”
“Where are you guys going? Could you just not wear a bra? You got almost all of the boobs in the family.” Skye says, sounding bitter. She’s a beanpole and worried that her fifteen-year-old body is her forever body, even though Mom has explained in great scientific (and sometimes disgusting) detail how we will change as we mature.
“Not a bad idea except his whole family will be there. It’s the grand opening to a big fancy golf entertainment place.”
“Golfing?”
“Entertainment like putt-putt? Why are we pulling out dresses for putt-putt?!”
“Well, it’s the grand opening ribbon cutting event. The mayor will be there, you know, all the bigwigs in town. But I don’t think it’s like putt-putt. He said it’s like golf meets darts, you stand on a balcony and hit a target or something?” Sadie and Skye both look almost disturbed. I have always done cheer and tumbling, plus golf and swimming in high school. But I’m the only one. My four sisters are not sporty at all. I add, “They serve you alcohol while you do it.”
They nod, comforted by that fact.
“How about my outfit from the one time I tried tennis?” Sadie pulls out an all white number that will be very tight on me.
“I have my own tennis stuff,” I start.
“Yeah,” Skye interrupts, sneering, “Suze’s butt will hang right out of that!”
“Actually, it’s perfect.” I smile wide and my sisters’ heads jerk in my direction. Because I am not an envelope pusher when it comes to fashion, or really when it comes to our family and our image and our unspoken rules. I don’t even touch the envelope. Don’t even take it out of the mailbox. I like boxes. I like for rules to be followed, goals met and everything labeled, indexed and color coded.
But, really, the outfit is about reaching my goals. I always figure out the smart steps to achieving the end result. And for an end result where I am happily married, I need my butt to do a little hanging out tonight. I grab the fabric from Sadie’s hand, willing it to be the key to getting Josh to look at me like a hot woman instead of a cute girl.
I mentally go through my checklist from the head down, hair, jewelry, lip gloss, etc.
I’ve got this. I am not a little girl.
_____
“There’s my girl.” Josh smiles wide, looking like a model in a crisp blue button up shirt, dark gray shorts and Sperry’s. He pushes off one of the posts of the porch where he was waiting for me, relaxed as ever.
I try not to deflate at the greeting. It’s just an expression. Plus, he hasn’t seen my backside in this tennis skort yet. I tied a sweater around my waist in case I ran into my parents on my way out of their house.
It probably doesn’t help matters that he’s picking me up at my childhood home like we’re in high school. Most of our dates have been in Tulsa, though, so we have no other option. Tonight is like most of our outings, big society events that include one or both of our families. Maybe he’s been worried about my father or his mother catching him ogling me. As he wraps me in a hug and links his long fingers with mine down the front steps, I can’t find a care about it. Any kind of date is better than no date at all.
“How was your week, Suze?” He asks as he puts his car in gear.
I am torn, because he just called me Suze again. Like we’re finally getting closer, going beyond acquaintances. But his tone kind of sounds like he’s talking to a toddler after picking them up from preschool. Still, he smiles over at me, actually interested in my answer to the question, so I smile back.
We talk easily on the short drive across town. I try to talk about my work at the company even though I’m still doing small, entry-level projects. I feel like it sounds more worldly and mature than complaining about how my finals went. I notice him sniffing and his eyes are a bit red. Almost like he’s been crying?
“Are you getting sick?”
“Nah, allergies. Texas kicked my ass.”
“How were the site visits? Three of them, right?”
“Right,” he lifts a shoulder and wipes his nose again. “And they were fine.”
“You always just say fine, do you not like them? The visits?” I ask, happy to talk about his work and not mine.
“Eh, just kind of pointless. Dad wants someone corporate to make sure all the Ts are crossed but I’m not really corporate.”
I scoff, then jump in to encourage him, because…is he insecure? Can’t be. “What do you mean?You’re the next CEO! You're numero dos, future boss. Doesn’t get more corporate than that. Not to mention, you’re Joshua Bell. “ I hear how breathy my voice just got and my cheeks burn.
He looks over at me, clearly pleased to see that I’m obviously a member of the Josh Bell Fan Club. “Well, that’s part of it. The guys just see a basketball player. They only respect my dad. I just stand around, bored and useless because no one really listens to me or cares what I have to say.”
“I’m sure that’s not—”
With a dismissive wave he cuts me off. “It’s all good. I don’t really mind it.” He moves on, and I wonder again if he’s unsure of himself but then as I study his relaxed posture and easy grin, I realize it’s more likely that he truly doesn’t care.
Weird.
I can’t imagine not caring about Canton Cards.
Soon he’s parking the car and coming around to the passenger side to let me out, always a gentleman. I ditch the sweater in the passenger seat as I climb out. We hold hands as we walk up to the big new building, and I still can’t believe it. That I’m holding hands with him. Dating him. I am Josh Bell’s girlfriend! I fight the urge to squeal as he opens one of the glass double doors for me.
In my mind a big Rafiki head pops up smiling “It is time!”