Page 25 of The Other Side of Paradise
I paused halfway through standing up, and I broke out into a grin. “Damn, flirtatious, huh?”
“No—” She put her hands over her face, eyes wide. “Oh, god, no, not that. I meant—like—you, as in, like,youdon’t need to order me something—I can pay for my own—I wasn’t flirting.”
This girl seemed perfectly cool around other people, and then she collapsed completely around me. Was she really just that bad with people she didn’t know? Or was I just scary? Either way, it was kinda cute, like a shy puppy nervously poking her head out of the carrier. I gave her a mock-disapprovingtut-tut.“If we’re getting you a date, you’re going to have to start flirting.”
“I—I don’t know how. Do I look like I know how?” she said, bristling now, clearly from embarrassment more than anything else. I shrugged.
“I dunno, you told me I could have my way with you.”
“No—I didn’t mean to—” She groaned, her hands over her face. “I’m tired today. I’m really sorry.”
I laughed. “I’m ordering you a drink. It’s my treat, seriously. I’m so glad to have someone to hang out with here outside of my stupid family. Tell me what you want.”
She looked down, tracing patterns on the tabletop with her fingertip. “An iced mocha latte, please.”
“It’s all yours, Allison,” I said with a wink, mostly to watch her reaction, and I got the one I was hoping for—she went wide-eyed, flushing hard, sitting up taller.
Maybe she just wasn’t used to flirting, play-flirting or not. But if she was going to hook up with a girl, that wasn’t going to do at all.
Thinking about it was the exact thing I needed to take my mind off Dad and everything this morning as I headed to the bar, getting a cup of water and Allison’s mocha latte.
I’d been planning on hooking up with someone just for the chance to do my own thing. Now that I was free-floating, untethered, having officially told Grandma and Grandpa where they could shove it—and just about exploded my relationship with my father, which I’d deal with later—I was free to do whatever. Andfreedom,in my mind, looked like me and Allison having our fun and finding someone to fill the void with for a few nights before we went and faced reality.
So I was practically bouncing by the time I got back to the table—half from excitement and half from unspent anxious energy, but whatever, tomato tomato and all that. I set down Allison’s drink together with the cup with the flowers, and I dropped down across from her, pushing the drink her way before I folded my arms on the table, leaning towards her.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the glass. “Seriously, I can pay you back or get you—”
“Shush.”
She huffed. “Outwardly, fine, but I’ll be thinking it.”
I laughed. “Guess I can’t stop you, sure. We can say it’s to pay me back for the flowers.”
She looked away, a tinge of pink across her cheeks. “It’s standard practice.”
“Uh-huh. Try not to say that to the next girl you’re giving flowers to.”
“We’ll see. I put my foot in my mouth a few years back and I’ve been trying to figure out how to get it out.” She softened, giving me a careful look. “Are you, um… are you doing okay?”
I waved her off. “It’s fine. My family’s stupid. I just can’t believe the way they’re screwing over Ryan.”
“No kidding. I hear your aunt was harassing Brooklyn at the bar…”
I wrinkled my nose. “Aunt Helena has got more issues than National Geographic. Telling them to leave me out of their stupid passive-aggressive arguing and politeness politics and shitty backdoor gossip and emotional manipulation was more cathartic than anything else. Turns out I’ve been… ugh… I’ve been waiting for a long time to… do all of that.” I squeezed my hands into fists on the tabletop, feeling the flats of my nails press against my palms, a keen grounding sensation. I sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry,” I said, my voice shaky. “I’m just mad. I do angry-crying and it’s not pretty.”
She gave me a small, lopsided smile. “I think it’s pretty enough.”
I laughed thickly, wiping the corners of my eyes. The last thing I wanted to be doing right now was crying. “Huh,” I said. “Maybe you do know how to flirt.”
“Ha—I’m not flirting this time. I mean… I don’t think showing emotions is an ugly thing. I’m not gonna lie, I cry all the time. I’m a whiny little baby. But I think I’m more… uh… stable? When I do show my feelings. More in touch with my art and stuff.” She laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head. “I mean, I’m never stable, I’m a disaster of a human being. But more stable, relatively speaking.”
I pulled the cup of flowers towards me, busying myself with poking at the flower petals, running my fingers through them. Just for anything other than looking at her. There was probably something wrong with my brain—I was always out here whining about how I didn’t want people hiding their emotions and being petty and passive-aggressive, but here was Allison just owning her insecurities and being allyeah, tell me how you’re feeling, I want to hear it,and I guess I was a part of the Bellfamily, because I wanted to retreat and find a magic way to stop existing. After too long, I settled for saying, “So you do art, huh?”
“Oh—yeah.” She relaxed, a smile lighting up her features. Maybe that was the key to getting the girl to settle down, clearly a lot more comfortable talking about her art than talking about her love life. “I’m actually just here on summer break. I’m in my fine arts degree back on the mainland. I do all kinds of stuff, but I really like acrylic painting.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” I plucked one of the flowers out of the bouquet, a little baby daisy with flowy white blooms, and I held it up to the light. “I cannot do physical media to save my life. I do graphic design stuff.”
“Oh, yeah?” She lit up a little brighter, sitting up taller. “What kind of stuff do you do for…” She trailed off when I reached across the table and, absently, tucked the flower into her hair. “Um.” She reached up, touching it lightly when I pulled away, and I laughed.
