Several pairs of eyes turn toward us and I’m embarrassed. “Do you always have to be so loud,” I comment.
“When I’m talking to you and you’re not paying attention—which is ninety five percent of the time lately, yes I do.”
“I pay attention to you.”
“Really? Then why did it take me like five minutes to get your attention.”
“I just have a lot on my mind, okay. Give me the rest of your clothes.”
“I did. You’re holding them.”
I look down at my arms. “OH.” Then I look over at the ottoman and Henry is gone.
My heart sinks. “Come back,” I whisper.
Stay with me. Love me.
“What?” Rosa asks from inside the fitting room.
“Nothing, Rosa. I was just talking to myself.”
I return to the ottoman and sit down. Then I glance around the store to see if maybe Henry is still here. I’m paralyzed. They are in the front of the store and Henry is fetching a top from a really high rack for her.
My cheeks are hot. My veins are pulsing. Is this what jealousy feels like? I don’t like it. I’m staring at the floor, my vision blurring around the white tiles. I’m perplexed. Henry. Henry. Henry. He’s filling up every part of my subconscious mind.
A set of feet come into my view and I look up. Rosa comes into view. She’s wearing a floral dress that’s adorned with a matching tan belt. She spins
around, clutching the edge of the dress like a silent film star. “Well, what do you think?”
I’m detached. I can’t fully focus. “It looks great.”
“I think so, too,” she says excitedly.
Our conversation is interrupted with, “Well, well.” A high-pitched feminine voice. A voice I know all too well. Callie Banfield, Henry’s girlfriend. I meet her gaze and she sneers at me. “It, don’t you know this a girls store? You don’t belong here.”
I narrow my eyes and scowl. I open my mouth to answer, but Rosa beats me to it. “Bitchzilla, don’t you have a village to terrorize or something?”
Callie scowls and shakes her head. Henry comes up behind her and hands her a few tank tops. She stomps into the dressing room with a huff and Henry sits down next to me. I look away.
“Ry?” There’s a gentleness in Rosa’s tone and I know she’s wondering if I’m okay.
I glance at her. She makes a silly face and I smile. Then she motions to her body. “So is this dress a yay, then?”
“Definitely.”
“Cool. I’ll be out with the next in a few.” She turns her back to me.
“Ugh.” I hope she doesn’t hear my distasteful groan. I’m so over this shopping trip. She doesn’t hear me. She slides back into her fitting room, with a gleeful sashay.
The cushion on the ottoman dips down as Henry scoots closer. Hidden by the piles of clothes in our hands, he laces his fingers through mine. His touch shocks me. A surge travels through my body and jumpstarts my heart.
And my heart stops again when I pull my hand away.
Henry leans closer, whispering into my hair, “Why did you do that?”
“Because,” I say in a low voice. What I don’t say is because I’m tired of being your dirty, little secret. Inside, I’m a piece of loose-leaf paper and he’s stuffing me into the shredder. I’m slivers of white falling into a trashcan. “She’s in the dressing room.”
He shrugs. “So. She can’t see. We have all these clothes in our laps.”