13. Bailey
What was I thinking?When I came up with the idea about make-out sessions with Jamie, I hadn’t planned to go through with it. It was more like a dream I wanted to come true and never thought in a million years would ever happen.
Jamie had left my room last night without answering one way or the other, so I did what I always did. I bulldozed ahead, texting him first thing this morning so I couldn’t chicken out, then spent my entire day worrying. Stressing. Trying not to hyperventilate. Where was a paper bag when a girl needed one?
I didn’t leave my house except to run to the store for milk and cinnamon rolls in cardboard tubes, our Saturday morning go-to breakfast. I helped Preston get dressed and clean up his mess in the front room, which he immediately messed up again with a blanket fort and Star Wars action figures.
I ripped Benson’s tablet away and forced him to go outside and play with his friends, telling him he wasn’t allowed to come back inside until lunch. He lurked on the front porch kicking at the patio furniture for about thirty minutes before giving in and knocking on a door three houses overbelonging to one of his best friends. Stella had another sleepover. I didn’t expect to see her until dinnertime.
After cleaning the house, I holed up in my room and tried not to spaz myself out by working on homework that could have waited until Sunday while watching a rerun marathon of The Big Bang Theory. Nine o’clock was too far away.
It wasn’t far away enough.
At about five, I started stressing about what to wear. How did one dress to make out with one’s best friend? Who may or may not have agreed to said making out? Who likely had not one romantic feeling for you?
Was this a date? A hook-up? A social experiment? A monumental mistake?
I had to believe this could end up with Jamie falling madly in love with me, or I would never follow through. And I would follow through. The only thing that could stop this train was Jamie himself. I might be willingtothrow myself at him, but he hadto catch me.
So, what? A skirt? Shudder. A dress? Double shudder.
I wasn’t a dress sortofgirl. I was more t-shirt and jeans if I was lucky, ratty t-shirt and torn-off sweatpants if I was honest. Not at school or anything, but Jamie’d seen me at my absolute worst. What on earth should I wear under the circumstances?
After stewing for the better part of three hours, I finally settled on dark-wash skinny jeans, a white eyelet blouse, and a chunky cable-knit thigh-length cardigan. I finished offthe look with a pair of black work boots and gold hoops in my ears. It was me, upgraded.
Sitting on the carpet in front of a floor-length mirror in my room, I studied my reflection. I didn’t usually wear much makeup. My skin, thank goodness, was practically flawless. My only complaint was the light color of my eyelashes, easily fixed with a few swipes of a mascara wand. Most days, that was as good as it got for makeup. Tonight, I brushed my eyelids with a soft tan shadow and the barest line of chocolate eyeliner. A little lip gloss and done.
Then there was my hair. In all reality, I loved my hair. It wasn’t carrot top red. It reminded me of these shrubs in our front yard. Every fall, they turned a deep, deep red. My hair was almost the exact shade of those shrubs. And shiny. With just enough waves to be annoying. It wasn’t enough to leave it alone. It had to be straightened, curled, or thrown into a messy bun on top of my head. Tonight, I went with both straightening and curling—straightening to smooth the top before curling the ends just right.
I felt like such a girl. It was nice. Except I also felt like throwing up.
Jamie knew me. He would know I tried. And that made me feel vulnerable. I had no idea how this night would turn out, and I’d dressed up for a date. It was entirely possible Jamie would laugh in my face. Did he think my plan was a joke?
What if Dallin was there? Had Jamie told our other best friend about my hare-brained idea? Were they hanging out in Jamie’s basement, laughing at me?
Maybe I should change. And wash my face. I could put my hair in a ponytail and chalk up the curls to playing dress-up with Stella.
I glanced at the clock. 8:55. If I wasgoing to lay it all on the line, I needed to be all in.
It was go-time.
JAMIE
I showered,dressed, and brushed my teeth in record time. I even spent several minutes picking up my room and the tv area. Although, my room should be off limits for what Bailey had in mind. Actually, I had no clue what Bailey had in mind, but if it involved kissing, it should definitely not happen in my bedroom.
8:55.
Running shaking fingers through my still damp hair, I tried to calm down. My heart raced like I’d just run sprints. I desperately hoped my deodorant would hold up because my pits were damp already. Gross. In my room, I stripped off the long-sleeved button-down I wore and fanned my overheated body with it before digging in my closet for a short-sleeved t-shirt.
This was ridiculous.
Bailey. We were talking about Bailey here. My best friend. The girl I used to swim in a baby pool with. My running partner. The only girl I knew who could throw a football with us for two solid hours in my backyard and not get bored before kicking my butt in HALO.
I had nothing to worry about.
A soft knock on the exterior door stopped me in my tracks. I still didn’t know what I would do. Was I really going to kiss Bailey?
A more forceful knock followed, and I went to open it. I’d been thinking about this all day, and it had taken until I was under the freezing cold stream of my shower to figure it out.
I didn’t know how I felt about Bailey. But I did know she wouldn’t have started this whole thing if she didn’t want to for whatever reason. And who knew? Once we crossed that line between friendship and something more…intimate, maybe I’d find out what I wanted. Maybe she would, too. That’s how it had worked with other girls I kissed.
The difference? With Bailey, I had much more to lose.
Bailey never knocked on my door. She always let herself in like it was her own house. It was weird opening the door to seeher standing there wringing her hands as though she hadn’t spent as much of her life in my house as she had her own.
And she never looked like that.
Where was the messy bun? And sloppy t-shirt? This wasn’t my Bailey. This was date Bailey, and I was fervently relieved I’d listened to myself and cleaned up. Otherwise, this could have gone so badly!
I opened the door wide, and Bailey stepped over the threshold. Instead of making herself at home like she usually did, she stood awkwardly on the small square of linoleum in front of the door.
“You can come in, Bales,” I teased gently. She was blocking me from closing the door.
“Oh, sorry.” She blushed but stepped away from the door. I closed it, and before I could second guess the decision, I locked it. I hadn’t toldany of this toDallin, and the last thing I needed was for him to barge in here.
“Um-” Without a doubt, this was one of the weirdest moments of my life. Thankfully, Bailey took over.
“So, are you ready for this?”she asked, and I had to admire her moxie. I’d never known Bailey to back down from a challenge, and our conversation last night had turned her little plan into a challenge.
“I guess.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
Bailey smiled a real smile then. “Come on, Barnes. Get your game face on.” Shepunched my arm lightly before striding across my tv room and plopping down on the sofa, pulling a memo-sized notebook from her back pocket.
Following her, I sat down on the other leg of the L-shaped sofa, about as far away as I could get.
“What the heck is that?” I pointed to the notebook.
She glanced up, a surprising twinkle in her eye. “This?” She held it up for me to see. “This is our game plan.”
Of course, it was. “Oh, yeah. Do I get to see this game plan? Or is it a secret?”
Her eyes flashed with uncertainty before she tossed me the notebook. I caught it mid-air and made myself comfortable.
In Bailey’s thin handwriting, across the top of the small page, were the words Five Kisses for Proving Emotional Attachment. I snorted. She was taking this seriously. Below the title was a numbered list.
1. Eskimo
2. Butterfly
3. Face kisses
4. Lips only
5. French
I’d have to be inhuman to not feel something reading that list. Turned on might be a stretch, but excited wasn’t an understatement. I fought back my inner teenage boy and tossed the notebook at Bailey with what I hoped was an impassive expression.
“Eskimo?”
“Yep.”
Yep. What the crap was an Eskimo kiss?
I studied the girl across from me. To her credit, Bailey didn’t hide from me. Her direct gaze never left my face. I wondered what secrets I gave away.
“Bailey—” I began.
“You don’t have to do this, Jamie. At all. I can get up and go home right now, and we can forget all about this.”
I wanted to know her secrets. What did she wantout of this little experiment of hers? Was it about teaching me a lesson? Or something else?
Until that day when she called me out for not kissing her, it hadn’t occurred to me that Bailey might have romantic feelings for me. Since then, I’d thought about little else. Her feelings for me. My feelings for her. It was tricky. We were friends and neighbors. What would the fallout be if this went badly?
“Oh, no. You can’t back out now, Bales. You’re the one who called me out.” My pride demanded I follow through. I’d worry about feelings later.
Bailey’s eyes narrowed briefly, then she nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”
“Okay.” I nodded in return but didn’t move, couldn’t move. This was her idea.
Bailey lifted one brow. “Are you going to sit over there all night?”
I was doomed.