“Think so?”
She pulls away, and winks at me. “See ya around,” she says to Dylan before flittering away like beautiful butterfly.
He steps closer, and turns to look at Tina. “Wow,” he says as he focuses on me. “Is she always like that?”
“You mean a live wire?” He nods his head. “Yep, that’s my sister.”
“Wow,” he says again.
My stomach churns with the thought of him being attracted to her, and not me. It makes perfect sense. She’s really special, whereas, I’m not. I’m just me. Plain, boring, quiet Molly. She’s vivacious and intoxicating. I’m mild and reserved. She makes friends everywhere she goes. I prefer to stick my headphones on and listen to music. I’m a homebody. Other people don’t really interest me.
“I can give you her number,” I say.
“Why do you think I want her number?” He gestures to a bench seat, and waits for me to walk ahead.
“Because you’ve said ‘wow’ twice in the moments since you’ve met her.”
“I’m sure your sister is great, but I prefer brunettes.” His lips turn up into a cheeky grin.
“Oh, right,” I feel my cheeks turn pink. “Anyway.” I sit on the bench, and turn my body toward him. “Tell me about your job as a security analyst. Is it exciting?”
“It’s interesting, and complicated. But I’d like to get to know you better. How about dinner?”
What? He wants to take me out for dinner? “Wh-what?” I stammer.
“You know. That thing people have anywhere between six and nine at night. You sit at this magical invention called a table.”
A goofy smile tugs at my lips. He makes me smile. “Dinner would be nice.” I’ve never really been out on a date before. Unless you consider Hank Reed a date in freshman year. All he wanted was to kiss and grope me. He made me feel really uncomfortable and kinda freaked me out.
A shiver runs up my spine with the mere thought of Hank Reed.
“You okay?” Dylan asks.
“Yeah, sorry. Just…” I shudder, and push the thought of Hank as far down as I can. “It’s okay.” I flick my hand, dismissively.
“So, what about dinner tomorrow night?” he asks, eagerly.
“I can’t.”
“Oh.” Dylan looks away. “Well, nice talking to you, Molly.” I think he thinks I’m blowing him off.
He goes to stand, but I place my hand on his firm arm. “I meant I can’t have dinner tomorrow night, because it’s Tina’s and my birthday.”
“You’re twins?” He cocks his head to the side.
“No, nothing like that.” I chuckle, because I understand the confusion. “We’re both adopted. But our birthdays are on the same day, in the same year.”
He looks in the direction of Tina, then back to me. “I know I shouldn’t ask a lady her age, but how old are you?”
“We’ll be eighteen tomorrow.”
“Um. Okay then.” He nervously wipes at his brow. “Um.”
I recognize that emotion right away. Surprise at my age. “It’s okay,” I say as I stand. “I get it. I’m too young, or too old. I’m too something. Whatever.” I offer him a smile.
“No. It’s not that,” he adds.
“What is it then?”
He stares at me. “I can’t lie to you, Molly. I think I’m too old for you.”
I shrug. “Okay then. If you say so.”
I take a step back from him. “Wait, don’t you want to know how old I am?”
I turn to face him, and find he’s now standing a little bit too close to me. I shake my head. “You’ve made up your mind about me and for me, there’s no use in trying to convince you otherwise. Have a good day, Dylan.” I smile again to hide the pain of his rejection.
Crash and burn.
“No, wait.”
I hold my hand up over my shoulder as I walk away.
I head toward the store Tina said she was headed to, and don’t look back.
Truth be told though, I’m hurt.
But I’m not going to let him ruin my day.
“Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday with that cute guy?” Tina asks as she looks through my closet.
“Nothing to tell.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Nah, there is. You’ve been quiet since we got back from the mall. I mean, more quiet than normal.”
“If there’s nothing to say, then why talk for the hell of it?” I fidget with the hem of my t-shirt.
“Hmm,” Tina mumbles as she turns to give me the stink eye. “I know there’s more to what you’re saying.”
“Are you excited about dinner tonight?” I ask, trying to change her focus from me.
“Am I ever! I think I want to put make-up on you. A full face. What do you think?”
Ugh, no thank you. But I know if I don’t say yes, she’s going to continue asking questions about Dylan. I’d best distract her by agreeing to whatever she wants to do. “Sure, that’ll be nice. Just nothing too dramatic. Subtle.”
“Subtle. Yeah, okay, I can do subtle. Maybe some vivid eye color though. That dress is gorgeous, so what if I do smoky eyes and red lips, and I’ve got to get my shoes. Hang on.” She leaves my closest, and runs to her room which is on the other side of my wall. Mom’s and Dad’s suite is at the other end of the hall upstairs. “Here you go. Put them on, and walk in them.” She hands me a pair of red, extremely high heels.
I hesitantly reach out to take them. “Oh, I see. You want to visit me in the hospital tonight, do you?”
“They’re not that high,” Tina teases. “Try them on.”
There’s no way in hell, I’ll be able to walk in these shoes. Nope, impossible. But, if Tina doesn’t see me try them, then she’s not going to believe me when I say I can’t walk in them. I slide them on. Damn it, they fit perfectly. Standing, I try to balance on the thinnest heel I’ve ever seen on a shoe. “I can’t wear these,” I say as I shuffle forward. “I can’t even lift my foot. How do you walk in these?”
“Easy.” She leans against the wall, watching me walk like a baby giraffe on ice.
“I’m not wearing these.” I stumble back to my bed, where I collapse, and kick off the heels. “Sorry, Tina. But there’s no way at all.”
“You’re right. You can barely walk in flat shoes, so high heels aren’t going to cut it.” She pushes off from the wall, bends and sweeps the shoes up in one fluid movement. “What shoes have you got?” She heads to my wardrobe, walks in and looks at the rows of shoes. Mine are all practical, and comfortable. “You don’t have anything here you can wear.”
“I can wear them.” I point to a red pair of Converse.
Tina’s mouth falls open, as if she’s disgusted with my suggestion. “You aren’t wearing Converse with that dress. I told you that already. Let me go to Mom’s closet.”
“Mom’s foot is also two sizes smaller than ours. So no, that’s not going to work. Let me wear the Converse. I think it’ll be really nice. Especially if you make me up too, no one will be looking at my feet.”