23. Paige
23
Paige
B ut then they started dancing together, and I don’t know, it was weird,” I explain to Machete Lady while pretending to trim the rhododendron.
I’m not even sure how I should be trimming this plant. The kitchen scissors are hacking away at leaves since that’s all they can cut. I’m also sending apologies through my mind, hoping the bush receives them. I just needed someone to talk to who wasn’t my family or one of my best friends. Mom, Dad, and Constance don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’d rather keep it that way, preferably until I’m married with three children. And my thoughts are raw and not fully formed, so talking to Amber would only stir up more questions I don’t have the answers to.
Last night was hard watching Delia and Rhodes dance together for what seemed like hours. They looked good together. She wasn’t an ant next to him, and her moves somehow made his jilted ones appear better. I was having a hard time looking away. I didn’t know when I practically shoved them together that it would feel this…weird.
“And you didn’t like seeing them like that?” she asks, both blades high in an X position.
I exhale and fiddle with a leaf. I never thought I’d have thoughts like this about Rhodes. He’s always been my friend. But I feel like I’ve been noticing him more this last week. The explicit dream sure didn’t help. His arms look bigger, his height makes me think of climbing him, and even just the thought of someone else being with him apparently makes me want to punch a wall. I have never had that urge before in my life.
This isn’t the right time to be having feelings like this. I’m about to ask Roger out this weekend. At least, I was supposed to. Now I’m not sure my heart is in the right place. What if I do have feelings for my best friend? I should figure those out first. Or search online on how to turn them off.
The Itch tries to claw up my throat and come out sideways. I try to clear it, but surprise, it doesn’t work.
Here we go.
I thought The Itch—or really, the incessant need to change—was fended off by this dating experiment. Instead, it’s gotten worse in the last twenty-four hours. If only it was an actual feeling I could deal with instead of some sense I don’t know what to do with.
“It’s not that I didn’t like seeing them together.” That’s exactly it . “But it felt odd after just dancing with him.” After, I started ruminating on this idea that maybe I was looking at him differently. They were new and foreign feelings I didn’t have time to sort before Delia was thrown into the picture.
A few dances later, and I practically stomped out to the middle of the floor, inserting myself as an awkward third wheel between them. I took a perfectly good couple’s song and made it a less than ideal dance triangle.
I wish I could call Rhodes and talk about this without it being confusing.
Machete Lady’s swords lash together as they connect, and my hand flies to my chest as if I’ve been stabbed with one. I haven’t .
She’s breathing hard but manages to say, “You should just let things play out as they do. Ask that Roger guy out and see where that goes and how it feels to be around him. And if you still feel weird, you know you’ll need to talk to your other friend.”
Her advice makes an odd amount of sense. I shouldn’t sabotage this good thing with Roger just because I’ve started looking at my best friend a little differently. It was just a dream. My feelings have no actual footing. They could be hormones, or something I ate. Rhodes isn’t even looking to date right now; he says he’s too busy. But with Roger, I know he’s in this to find someone. It would be ridiculous if I didn’t explore it.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“I think so,” she says with a grunt. “That friend of yours isn’t going anywhere.”
She’s right, and I know it.
Cleo purrs at my feet, knocking against my leg with a force that says she might be the one on the leash, but she’s the boss.
“Thanks…” I draw out the word awkwardly, not knowing her name, but I don’t recover in time.
“Pearl,” she answers.
We both smile at each other. I would have never guessed. I figured it would ease my conscience to call her by her real name and not some persona our town has given her, but it just feels awkward rolling off the tongue.
“You can still call me Machete Lady if that makes you feel better.”
I widen my eyes. “How’d you know?”
“Honey, there’s little that goes on in this town I’m unaware of. I might look crazy, or at least like I can cut someone’s knees clean in two, but that only gives me the ability to be unsuspecting.” She smiles, lowering her machetes to her sides .
“Thank you,” I whisper, picking up Cleo.
“Boo.”
I scream and whip around, holding Cleo out for protection. “Constance.”
Her grin is annoyingly smug.
“How long have you been standing there?” I pet Cleocatra in apology for trying to use her as a weapon against my sister.
“Long enough,” she answers.
“Constance,” Machete Lady says in greeting.
“Pearl.”
I stare at my sister like she’s a stranger. How does she know Machete Lady’s real name? I’m about to ask her when Machete Lady says to her, “Still coming over for the show tonight?”
I have so many questions.
“I’ll bring the popcorn.”
I want to ask what I can bring because being included in whatever this friendship club is about has me both intrigued and jealous.
“You can’t come,” Constance says, hands in her black skinny jeans pockets. I don’t even know how she can fit a whole hand in them they’re so small.
“I have other plans.” I stroke my cat’s fur. “Cleo needs…bathing.”
“Doesn’t she do that herself?” Constance asks.
Machete Lady sheaths her swords and walks closer to the hedge of bushes between our lawns. “She does look very clean.”
I glare at Constance. “I have to text someone.”
“Rhodes?”
“No.”
“Amber?”
“She’s…painting her na ils.”
Constance lowers her eyes to study me. I’m close to breaking, so I gather Cleo’s leash faster than a retractable measuring tape and trudge toward my door.
“Enjoy the basement,” she calls after me.
Machete Lady waves.
“Choke on your popcorn.”
“I plan to,” she spits back.
“I know CPR,” Machete Lady adds.
This does not surprise me for some reason. Maybe it’s because she seems ready for quite literally anything that could happen, or it’s the swords.
Definitely the swords.
Me
What do you say to a burger at Smith’s tomorrow night?
Roger Who Cleans
I never say no to burgers.
Me
That’s reassuring (no joke at all). What time can you meet?
Roger Who Cleans
6 pm work for you?
Me
It’s perfect.