But as I reached up to hang the clothes on the hook, I found the bowling shirt, like it was following me. There was also a top I hadn’t seen before: white, one-shouldered, printed with 1960s satellites, and sewn with sequins. It was the weirdest thing I had ever seen. I loved it. I would never have chosen it for myself because it looked too small. Also, my boobs were too big for a strapless bra to corral—at least, they had been.
“Did you pick out this bowling shirt and this one-shouldered white blouse?” I called over the wall to Delilah in the next fitting room. “Did you mean to put them in your pile?” This didn’t seem likely. Delilah was a flowery type, like the gorgeous trapeze dress I’d found for her. She was not a satellite type or a bowling shirt type.
“Of course I meant them for you,” came her voice through the wall. “They look just like you. Did you try them on? They’re my size, and I think we’re about the same.”
Considering her petite frame, I found this hard to believe. But out of curiosity, I slipped the one-shouldered top over my head. It was silky against my skin. And it fit. It pooled at my neckline, showing just a hint of cle**age. And then, of course, there were the satellites. If any shirt was going to catch Max’s attention, this would be it.
As I examined myself in the mirror and turned a little to let the sequins reflect the light, I felt a wave of déjà vu. I’d been in this dressing room a million times. I’d slipped into shirts and gazed at myself critically in the mirror. I’d gone for loud retro fashions because they told the world I wasn’t afraid to be noticed. I was big, I was comfortable with my body, and I did not care what people thought of me. That wasn’t true, of course—I wasn’t comfortable and I did care—but I didn’t want to admit it.
Suddenly depressed, I collapsed on the velvet settee in the corner, inhaling the slightly mildewed scent of the shop. In a much smaller retro top printed with satellites, I still cared what people thought of me. And it was still important to me to tell them I didn’t. Robert had asked me out, my dream come true, and I had moved on to fantasizing about a new guy I couldn’t have. I might have lost weight and made majorette, but nothing else had changed. I was back where I started.
“Are you ready for the big reveal?” Delilah called.
“Sure.” I hopped up from the velvet seat and raked open the lacy curtain. “Wow!” I exclaimed. “You look so classic!” I turned her around so we both looked down the hall at the three-way mirror. “And for something different, you could belt this.” I put my hands on either side of her waist in the flowered dress. “You could wear a scarf around your neck. I hope you’re buying it! Was I right or was I right?”
“You were right,” she acknowledged. “But wow yourself! That top is so you, and you look hot. Is this for your date tonight?”
“Definitely,” I said, grinning into the mirror.
“I can tell you really like him,” she said.
I watched my grin fade and my bare shoulder sag. “Sometimes two people are meant to be together,” I said. “We’re not.”
“Really?” she asked, peering at me with her brow knitted. “I could have sworn, the way you were acting—”
I interrupted her before she could draw out my feelings for Max. She thought we were talking about Carter. I didn’t mind talking about him at all. “Every date doesn’t have to be with The One, right? I can still go out with him and have fun.” Fun with Max, that is.
“Sure you can,” she said, but the perplexed expression stayed in her eyes. She knew I was leaving something out.
I changed the subject. “What about you? Are you dating? You never talk about it.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “You know how I get so worked up about baton performances? I act the same way around guys.”
“Guys make you faint?” I joked. Then I wished I hadn’t made the joke. It seemed that was exactly what she was saying.
“No!” She waved one hand as if this idea was ridiculous. “I never get that far. I just stay away from them.”
“I talked to Robert during band practice. He said you really laid into him about sending me that sympathy card before tryouts last April.”
She put her hand over her mouth. “Are you mad?”
“Of course I’m not mad! Just surprised. And it doesn’t sound like guys make you nervous.”
“When he sent you that card, it pissed me off!” she squeaked. “I’d watched the two of you laughing together. You lit up when you were around him, and he was so cute, doing that thing with his hair.” She jerked her head in her perfect imitation of Robert tossing the hair out of his eyes. “I was a little jealous, honestly, that you could talk to each other for hours like that. But he was always going out with some other girl he didn’t talk to! I thought it was a matter of time until you got together as a couple. I couldn’t believe he sent you that card, like he was trying to ruin your friendship.”
As I nodded, I glanced at myself in the mirror again. I was surprised at how grim I looked, lips pressed into a straight line. “He asked me out today.”
Delilah lit up. “He did?” she exclaimed. “Finally, Gemma! That is so great! Did you say yes?”
I shook my head.
She bit her lip. “Because of the card?”
“The card, and a lot of things,” I said. “Too much water has gone under that bridge.”
“He should have known better than to treat you that way. Maybe he learned his lesson.” She wrapped her arm around my waist. We gazed at ourselves in our decades-old clothes that fit us so well. “You look gorgeous, Gemma. You’re going to have so much fun on your date tonight. Go ahead and tell me this guy isn’t right for you. Maybe you even believe that yourself. But your heart is showing on your sleeve.” She rubbed my bare arm. “I don’t believe it for a second.”
11
“Cool shirt,” Max said.
“Thanks!” I exclaimed.
I had started getting ready for the date in plenty of time, I’d thought. But the top was so figure-flattering that I’d felt self-conscious about how the rest of me looked. I’d put my hair up, then down, and up, then down again. By the time I’d finally settled on a look, it was seven thirty. I wasn’t waiting outside when Max arrived, so he’d rung the gong doorbell.
I wasn’t sure whether he’d complimented my shirt to put me at ease while the stupid gong echoed in the marble entryway, or because he actually thought the shirt was cool. I was grateful to him regardless.