Chapter Ten
Taylor
As soon as I walk into the mall, I have the intense urge to walk right back out. I’ve never liked shopping—I usually only do it when it’s really necessary, like when I’ve worn through the soles of my sneakers.
I wander through the bustling corridors, trying to decide which store to enter first. Suddenly, I stop short, narrowly avoiding a group of kids racing toward the exit, when I see a store displaying NFL wear but in a chic way.
“Hi there! Anything I can help you with?” asks a sales associate whose name tag reads Zoe.
I take a deep breath. Her flawless hair and makeup remind me of Samantha and the other cheerleaders, but I’m hoping she’s nicer than they are.
“Look—I’m going to level with you. I know nothing about fashion.
This is basically what I wear every day,” I say, gesturing to my outfit.
“I own one pair of fitted jeans, which is what I consider dressing up. Do you think you can help me fix that?”
Her eyes light up, making it clear I’ve become her new project. “All right, so we don’t want too drastic of a change, which means we’ll stay away from the florals and pastels . . .”
She leads me deeper into the store. “What size are you?”
“Um, it depends—usually around a 14 or 16.”
“Denim, definitely denim,” she says to herself as she starts tossing clothes at me. “Blazers . . . leather leggings . . . a bomber jacket . . . Hm, you’re probably going to need a new bra to go with these tops.”
I arch a brow when she throws some skirts on the pile.
“Just trust me.” She nudges me toward the dressing room. “Go try these on to start with. I want to see everything on you.”
So that’s how I end up in the middle of the store, strutting my stuff for Zoe and two other sales assistants. Some outfits garner enthusiastic yays while others earn gentle nays, but overall luck is on my side and within no time I have a whole new wardrobe.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a good place to get a haircut?” I ask as Zoe rings me up.
She pauses mid-scan and glances at her watch. “I’m about to get off work—why don’t I take you to where I get my hair done? Arianna is amazing!”
My smile widens, comforted by her desire to help.
So she clocks out and leads me through the mall with the focus of an athlete walking into a championship game. Chin lifted, she sweeps into a salon and asks, “Is Arianna here today?”
The receptionist nods and disappears into the back room only to return moments later with Arianna—a twenty-something woman who exudes warmth from every pore.
“Zoe!” she says, embracing her. “I didn’t think you had an appointment today.”
“I don’t—I’m here for a friend.” Zoe gestures to me. “She’s looking for an updated style. Do you think you could fit her in?”
“Anything for you!” Arianna turns to me. “Shall we?”
I follow her to the back, where the hair-washing stations are.
“Have you given any thought to what kind of style you’d like?” she asks as she gathers my hair into the sink.
“Well, I don’t really want anything too drastic. I haven’t really done much with it besides regular trims.”
“Trying to spice things up, then?”
“Actually, I just really want guys to start noticing me as a girl . . .”
What is it about hairdressers that makes you want to bare your soul to them?
I’ve only met this woman a few minutes ago, and here I am, spilling my entire life story while she combs and snips at my hair.
I share details about my mom, my sister, even my brother—who until today I regarded as the golden child.
She nods and offers decent advice as she diffuses my hair into submission until, finally, she turns me around so I can see the finished product.
“Wow,” I say as I touch my frizz-free curls, which are perfect ringlets for the first time in my life.
“I didn’t cut much off the length.” Arianna readjusts my hair over my shoulders. “I just added layers for texture and lightness. Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
Zoe squeals her agreement when I meet her back in the waiting area.
I sigh as I pick up my bags. “Now all I need to do is figure out how to put on makeup.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You mean you’ve never put on makeup before?”
I shrug. “Never had any reason to.”
“Well, this makeover wouldn’t be complete without makeup—follow me.”
I chuckle as I obediently trail behind her into a cosmetics store.
She flutters around picking up makeup as efficiently as she picked out clothes until I’m swiping my debit card and putting a sizable dent in my savings account.
It’s probably not the best idea, given my mom’s new refusal to pay my living expenses, but Todd said he’d cover it, and I really need this.
Wordlessly, Zoe leads me back to the salon and asks Arianna if we can use one of her chairs. Permission secured, Zoe gets to work. “You have such beautiful skin, so I’m using a lightweight foundation.”
I snort. “That’s because you haven’t seen it sunburned.”
Occasionally she issues commands like smile or close your eyes but otherwise conversation remains sparse, so when she announces she’s finished I’m caught off guard.
I look at my reflection for the second time in the span of a few hours, and I don’t recognize myself. Purple eyeshadow enhances the emerald green of my eyes—something I’d always thought would look gaudy but is actually striking.
“Do you really want to stun ‘em, or stick with cute-casual?” she asks when I’m done admiring myself.
I smirk. “Stun ‘em, definitely.”
“Then put on the black corset, black shorts, and knee-high boots.”
I do as I’m told, my stomach fluttering the entire time, and when I come back out, she hands me the Chiefs bomber jacket.
“It completes the look,” she says.
“I honestly can’t thank you enough—there’s no way I could have done it without you!”
“Don’t mention it! It’s been fun—you’ll have to let me know how the party goes.”
I agree and we exchange numbers before I sprint to Chase’s car, wanting to make it back before the party really gets going.
As it turns out, I’m already late—people are spilling out onto the front yard.
I shake my head as I approach the house, thinking about how Chase tried to convince me it wasn’t a real party.
I draw a few looks as I weave through the throng, looking for Todd and Chase, and my stomach flips. Eventually I spot a familiar face—Justin—and decide to ask him where my brother is.
“Hey,” I say, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
He barely glances at me before pulling me into an enthusiastic hug.
“Hey!”
“Justin! I’m looking for Chase—have you seen him?”
His eyes twinkle. “Why would you want Chase when you could have me?”
“I’m his sister.” I squint at him. “Remember?”
Finally his eyes widen. “Oh, shit. Damn, Taylor, I didn’t recognize you.” He glances around as the crowd swells and the TV speaker thumps with Super Bowl statistics. “Come with me—I really can’t hear a thing in here.”
He takes my hand and leads me out to the backyard, where fewer people linger. “There, much better. You want a beer?” he asks while grabbing a can out of a cooler.
I stare at it, thinking of my mother back in Cleveland. “No, thanks.”
“What about a cider or a wine cooler? I got a variety ‘cause I know some girls don’t like the taste of beer,” he says before taking a hearty gulp.
I take a seat, arranging my long legs in front of me. “Oh, but I thought we all agreed that I wasn’t much of a girl.”
He chuckles. “I seriously thought you were going to punch your brother for that comment.”
“Oh, the thought definitely crossed my mind.”
“I wouldn’t be too hard on him.” He wipes some of the condensation off the bottle. “I mean, if I had a sister who looked like you, I’d be just as protective.”
I bite my lip. “What do you mean?”
He sits beside me, his arm resting on the back of the bench. “Come on, you know you’re beautiful.”
“Okay, so tonight I am.”
“No, even this afternoon you looked good in your Cardinals shirt.” He wets his lips. “Made me wonder what you’d look like in mine.”
His tone is playful yet inviting, and before I can contemplate his words further, his lips meet mine unexpectedly.
It’s a teasing kiss—the kind meant to prompt reciprocation—and without thinking, I lean in closer.
Maybe it’s because he’s the first guy who’s noticed me or because he’s undeniably attractive, but either way, I just do what comes naturally.
“Get a room!” someone shouts across the backyard.
Drawing back slightly, Justin smiles, his eyes darkening, just as my phone dings.
“So what do you say?”
“To what?” I ask, tucking my phone back into my pocket.
“To us finding a room . . .”
He pulls me in again, trailing kisses along my jawline until I’m breathless.
“Okay,” I say, the word slipping out before I’ve fully processed what he’s asking—he’s only the second guy I’ve ever kissed, if you can even count the first one, which was during a high school musical performance.
Seriously, my eighteen-year-old sister has more experience than me! What if I mess up?
Still, I follow him inside, where the party is still going strong. He takes my hand, navigating us through the sea of people gathered in front of the flat-screen watching the NFL awards ceremony.
I lock eyes with Todd as Justin leads me into a bedroom off the living room, and I lift my hand to wave. His gaze shifts to Justin and then he turns back to whoever he’s chatting with, completely ignoring me.
My stomach quivers as Justin closes the door behind us, his lips finding mine in the dark. I try to follow his lead, matching his pressure and meeting his tongue with mine, but I can’t stop the doubt from creeping in.
What if he realizes I’ve never done this before?
His hand cups my boob, which I think should feel good, but it does absolutely nothing for me. What’s worse, it just sends me spiraling further. Should I touch his chest too? Does it even do anything for guys?
“Are you okay?”
The timbre of his voice jars me back to reality. “Yeah, why?”
“You just don’t seem as into this as you were outside.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah . . . maybe I should go.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn and do just that before the first tear falls.