Chapter 2
Elli
What’s that saying about God laughing when you make a plan? Well, that’s how my life feels right now- scratch that- the last year. The jury’s still out on whether or not God is real, but if He is, He’s getting some good laughs in at my expense.
I’ve had my life mapped out for me ever since I could remember. I’ve always been told what to do in what order, and they were the only goals I was taught to have.
One: Graduate high school
Two: Go to college, boys like an educated woman. (But not too educated. Don’t be smarter than the boys.)
Three: Meet a boy and get married in the temple
Four: Start a family ASAP
If I had to drop out of college to be a full-time mom? Well, that was just God’s plan.
But when I turned twenty-four and my boyfriend of six months still hadn’t proposed, obviously there was something wrong with me. It couldn’t have been God’s plan to be unwed at my age.
I’ve scrimped and saved every penny I could for the last four years in preparation for a life altering event. I just figured it would be a wedding. So eight months ago when my ex broke things off with me, I decided to take control of my life.
Did I think I’d end up moving to Texas because of my sister? Absolutely not. But the idea stuck with me, and when I mentioned it to Izzy, she was totally on board and helped me plan it all out.
Izzy met Luke last summer at a theater camp in St. George, Utah and it was, according to her, “love at first sight.” They’ve been dating long distance ever since, much to the chagrin of my parents who don’t necessarily approve of their relationship.
They’ve made it work with daily FaceTime sessions, late night phone calls, and good old fashioned letters. Luke even sends Izzy flowers randomly.
It’s sickly sweet and it makes me want to throw up sometimes, but Izzy is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.
I’d never tell her I’m jealous, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.
I never had relationships in high school since I spent most of my time doing homework for AP and Concurrent Enrollment classes, as well as taking care of my siblings.
I went on dates, sure, but no one ever saw me as more than a friend. I think most of the time I was just the “in between” date so boys could go on another date with the girl they actually liked without it looking too serious.
Let me elaborate. If you grow up Mormon, you’re often taught you can’t exclusively date someone until you’re eighteen and “marriage ready.” So you go on a date with the person you want to date, but then you go on “filler” dates with friends or people you don’t actually like romantically so you can continue to date the other person.
It’s stupid, but a rule, nonetheless.
In college, I tried to get through as many credit hours as I could in case I met “the one” and ended up getting married and then pregnant. I graduated with my B.A. in three years in preparation to get married, but it never worked out.
I’ve only had two serious boyfriends, and they never showed a fraction of the same amount of affection Luke shows Izzy.
San Marcos seems like a nice place to live, though, so I can’t be upset at my decision. I found a cute little seven hundred square foot, one bedroom apartment that costs less than a single room goes for in Provo.
The apartment may be small, but it’s the first space that’ll actually be mine.
Izzy and I are currently on our way back from IKEA with the trunk of my 2010 Subaru Forester filled to capacity with shelves, a coffee table, bar stools, a bed frame, a desk, and a nightstand.
Before IKEA, we went to a local discount furniture store and bought an L-shaped couch that seats about four people-and pulls out into a bed, a chair for my desk, and a big, oversized reading chair.
The store was nice enough to offer free same-day delivery, so my apartment will be fully furnished by the end of next week!
The only thing I’m missing is a TV, but considering I have my laptop, I’m willing to survive without it.
Izzy is buzzing with excited energy because tonight is the first real date her and Luke are going on, and the first time they’ll see each other in person in almost a year.
“Promise me you’ll be nice to Luke. And don’t embarrass me. Or act like you’re my mom. I’m seventeen, not ten.” Izzy says for what feels like the thousandth time today.
I roll my eyes. “I know, Iz. I promise to be nice. I’m not going to follow you the whole time and measure the distance between you two with a Book of Mormon. I’m only going because Mom would kick my butt if I let you go anywhere alone.”
“True. She would know, too. She always knows.” Izzy gets a distant look in her eyes and shudders, probably thinking about the time Mom found out Izzy kissed Marcus Boller behind the park bathroom when she was fourteen, even though literally no one else knew, and my mom gave her a lecture on being a “proper” lady.
Then she turns to me, “You’re not going to make me put these together today, are you? ”
“No, Izzy. I would never dream of making you do manual labor hours before your date. I know how long it takes you to get ready.” I tease, lightly pushing her shoulder.
Izzy is one of the only people I feel comfortable teasing and being silly with.
Maybe it’s because we’ve shared a room since she was two and it’s hard to hide yourself from someone in such close quarters.
Izzy raises her chin proudly and says in a bad British accent, “Beauty takes time, darling.”
We giggle, then Izzy jumps right into discussing the plan for tonight. Which she doesn't actually know because Luke wanted it to be a surprise. Unfortunately for me, Luke’s friend Matt is joining us. Izzy refused to let me be a “sad third wheel” and insisted I have company.
I had to double check that Matt was indeed an adult and not a teenager, and then I had to ask why a twenty-four year old was friends with a seventeen year old. Luckily it’s because Luke’s friends have siblings that are friends with Matt, so they all hang out sometimes, and it’s not a creepy reason.
I would have been fine bringing a book to read and letting them do their thing. The last thing I want right now is a boy to deal with, but Izzy insisted.
If he’s a hot cowboy though… maybe I’d be okay with it.
As soon as we get back to the apartment and unload our haul, Izzy immediately dumps her clothes on my floor mattress in search of the perfect outfit. I reassure her that she could wear a burlap sack and Luke would go weak in the knees, but she scoffs and keeps rummaging through her clothes.
“What are you going to wear?” Izzy calls over her shoulder.
I glance down at my bike shorts and oversized t-shirt. “Um, this?”
Izzy turns to me and her face twists in disgust as she shakes her head. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not about to go on a date looking like you just spent the day running errands.” She abandons her own clothes to rifle through mine.
“I did spend the day running errands.” I grumble. “Besides, it’s not really a date. He’s only coming because you and Luke didn’t want me to be a third wheel.”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t dress to impress. Maybe he’ll be the one.” She wiggles her eyebrows and holds up a blue t-shirt dress. “This is comfy and casual, plus, it’ll make your eyes pop.”
“Fine. But I’m wearing my converse. Does that suffice, fashion police?”
Izzy rolls her eyes but gives me a nod of approval.
She decides on a sundress that barely meets the standard of modesty ingrained in us growing up-not that I’m going to, or could enforce it.
It’s cap sleeve, flowy, and comes barely two inches above her knee.
It’s a light sage that makes her already tan skin look even more tan, and surprisingly makes her electric blue eyes pop.
She spends an hour curling her bright blonde locks to perfection and making sure her makeup is flawless.
Me? I toss my hair into two Dutch braids, throw on a coat of mascara, and call it a day. I spent too much time growing up trying to fit in with everyone else in my community by spending hours getting ready, just to feel inferior anyway. Plus, we’ve been traveling for two days and I’m exhausted.
And it’s not a real date.
The differences between me and Izzy could not be more apparent. Izzy is all blonde and bubbly and I’m brunette and… boring. My mother has never explicitly said she’s disappointed in how I look or who I am, but it’s always been implied.
Glancing at the clock, it reads 5:05 and I scoff, irritated that the boys are running late because Izzy’s about to wear a hole in my carpet from all of her pacing.
She’s chewing her lip anxiously, but right as I’m about to suggest she give Luke a call, there’s a knock at the door.
Izzy’s eyes light up as she rushes to the door and flings it open.
“Izzy-kins!” Luke shouts, holding his arms open for her.
“Lukey-poo!” Izzy squeals, jumping into him.
“I missed you so much. I’m so happy you’re here.
” Luke rubs his nose against Izzy’s––gross–– and I clear my throat, hoping to stop this PDA train before it runs further.
“Hi Elliana. Nice to finally meet you in person.” He extends his hand to me, looking completely unapologetic at their display of affection.
“Please, call me Elli. It’s nice to meet you too, Luke.” I shake his hand with a smile. “You two head to the car, I’m just going to make sure everything is locked up and I’ll meet you out there.”
They don’t answer verbally, too busy making heart eyes at each other.
Izzy pulls Luke from the apartment while I take a few breaths to gain my composure.
I hate dating. I hate first dates. I hate meeting strangers. I don’t know what Matt knows about me already, but I’m always afraid I won’t live up to other people’s expectations. I’m not thin, I’m not outrageously smart or witty, and I don’t have a lot of romantic experience.
Once I turn from locking my front door, I stop in my tracks as I take in the man leaning against the black Honda Civic Luke and Elli are sitting in, chattering away with each other.
He’s looking down at his phone, so his long, wavy, jet black hair falls in front of his face.
He’s tall, probably six feet, and lean. He’s dressed all in black.
Black t-shirt with some band on it, black jeans with rips in the knees, and black boots.
In this Texas heat? Bold.
His left arm is covered in intricate tattoos. His hands are adorned in chunky silver rings, as well as a thick silver chain bracelet on his wrist. A red guitar pick hangs around his neck on a silver chain.
As I get closer, he looks up and my breath hitches when I’m met with coffee brown eyes so dark they’re almost black, framed by thick, dark lashes that any girl would kill to have. He tucks one side of his hair behind his ear and pockets his phone.
This man has a nose ring and two piercings in his ear. The silver jewelry in his nose glints in the sunlight, drawing attention to it. The silver hoops in the first piercing on his lobes contrast his dark hair.
I wonder if they match the other side.
He looks like every girl’s bad boy dream, and he is most definitely not my cowboy fantasy. His facial expression remains impassive as I approach, and I can almost feel the broodiness and angst rolling off of him. I get the distinct impression he doesn’t want to be here.
Looks like it’s going to be a long night.