Thirteen

~ Dylan ~

The next day as I sit at home waiting for Paul, I’m still thinking about last night.

I’ve never really been on a date in my life. Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? Not like anyone would believe me because… well, even though I don’t date, I definitely get girls. Which everyone knows. Which makes people believe I’m taking girls out left and right, but I’m not. Now that I think about it, it kind of makes me feel like a jerk. But then again, why do guys always have to ask the girls out on dates? It isn't like Chastity would ever come up to me and say, “Hey, Dylan. How about dinner and a movie?” No. With her hand inching toward my crotch, she says stuff like, “Hey, maybe we can hang out tonight,” which may sound similar, but it’s definitely not the same thing.

Now I can’t stop wondering if I went on a date last night with Ziah. We did the dinner thing—for the second time. We watched a movie. After our first dinner, we sat on Mary and talked about the secrets of the universe and shit. Okay, maybe just the secrets of Dylan, but pretty close. It felt different than it would with Chastity. So was it a date? Did I want it to be a date? Honestly, the thought makes me want to puke in Dad’s grass again. Not because it was Ziah. But because the more I hang out with her, the more I realize the girl is hot as hell. Not only that, but she’s way cool to chill with and pretty funny, too. Oh, and did I mention hot?

But my stomach starts constricting because I MIGHT HAVE WANTED IT TO BE A DATE. I mean, what is that? Dates lead to commitment and commitment leads to temporary insanity and temporary insanity leads to full on mental illness—picking out china patterns, choosing museums to get married in—and ends with two fucked-in-the head sons and a dad trying to hold it together when he’s just as fucked-in-the-head as they are.

So no, I definitely don’t want it to have been a date. Either time.

All you’re doing is being nice to her. Helping with the wedding, I tell myself. Which is true and even further drives my point home. I’m sure Derrick never planned on ending up like this when he took Lora on a date. Luckily, I’m not only better looking than my brother, but I’m smarter too.

Then why do I still kind of feel like puking? Why can’t I get her laugh out of my head? It’s higher-pitched than her voice but not annoyingly so. Hot high-pitched. Or the way her breath catches when I accidentally-on-purpose brush up against her? And the way her eyes are on me, studying me like she wants to memorize every part of me that she can—the way I obviously want to, too, since I’m dissecting her fucking laugh and breathing patterns!

Stop thinking about it. That’s all I need to do is stop thinking about her.

***

“Dude, you’ve been all weird and sulky lately. Did someone kick your dog? Scratch Mary? Oh, you got turned down by a girl!” Paul turns down the music in Mary.

It takes everything in me not to ignore him and turn it back up. First, when the hell did he get so observant? Usually he doesn’t notice anything that isn’t a way for him to get attention. Second, he had to go and remind me that I have been weird. Oh, and then he hit the nail on the head that it’s about a girl. Not that I’ll admit it.

“I’m not sulky. Who even uses that word?” Except I am sulky, and I know it.

I flip down the sun visor. I can’t stop thinking about the sort-of date, and how I didn’t hate the idea. Did it start that way with Derrick? No, I can’t let myself think like that. I don’t like her. She’s angry voodoo-doll chick.

“I use that word, and you’re definitely sulky man. Is it the wedding shit?” Paul’s been my friend forever. He’s the one who knew us before and after Mom. Besides Derrick, no one else would even know to bring up the wedding pissing me off.

Well, except Ziah, I guess, but she doesn’t know why.

Paul also knows I won’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t want to talk about the wedding.”

He doesn’t push it. We’re cool like that and know when to go there and when not to.

“Chastity asked me about you at school today. She wants us all to go do something.”

This is where I should be jumping at the opportunity to go out with another girl. To get my mind off Hanes, but I’m not sure I’m feeling it. It doesn’t sound as cool as it usually does—which I chalk up to being tired and busy playing wedding planner.

“We’ll see. Things are kind of crazy right now.”

“That’s cool. Derrick asked me to be in the wedding, too. I didn’t see that one coming.”

I glance at Paul and see him scratch his head. He has the huge-ass Paul smile on his face. He’s stoked.

“You’re like a brother to him. We’ve been making his life hell ever since we could walk.”

Paul laughs and then my cell goes off, letting me know I got a text. Picking it up, I see Hanes flash across the screen. Damn it. I just stopped thinking about her.

Z: LORA JUST ABOUT EXPLODED BECAUSE I’M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR WEDDING STUFF. DID SHE AND DERRICK GET IN A FIGHT OR SOMETHING?

I smile, imagining Ziah blowing her sister off, and Lora taking it to mean it’s the end of the world. Girls in love are a little psycho. Or at least the ones getting married are.

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling? Who is that?” Paul fires questions at me.

“I’m not smiling.” Only I sort of am, but not because it’s Ziah. It’s psycho Lora.

After I pull into a parking spot, I text back.

D: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? WE’RE DOING TUXES. COME DOWN. I’M SURE SHE’LL BE HERE.

After I give her the address, I toss my phone down and get out of the car. Derrick is already inside when we get there. Pacing back and forth.

“You’re late! What the hell, man.”

“Ten minutes. Chill out. I had to pick Paul up. Geez, you’re worse then Lora.”

Derrick groans and plops down into a chair. The guy who works here is behind the counter, trying to look like he’s not paying attention to us. Derrick ruffles his hair, obviously freaking out about something.

“Trouble in paradise?”

When he groans again, I start tripping out a little bit. I’m just giving him a hard time. The wedding is a mistake, but I also don’t want anything to hurt my brother.

“What’s up? You cool?” I sit down next to him. Paul takes the seat on the other side.

“Lora’s all stressed out. She’s not big on any of the places we picked out. She really wants this Vista place, but it’s all booked. I don’t see what the big deal is. I told her it didn’t really matter where we did it, which was obviously the wrong thing to say. She took off and isn’t answering her phone.” He starts popping his knuckles, and I’m a little lost here.

“So you guys had a little argument. What’s the big deal? That happens all the time, right?”

I mean, that should be normal. People fight and as long as it’s not huge fights you get over it and move on.

“You don’t get it. I don’t want to be like Mom and Dad. The fighting and the taking off.”

Huh? “What are you talking about? I don’t remember Mom and Dad having any big fights, and what you’re explaining sounds more like a disagreement than anything.”

Derrick looks over at me. “You don’t remember, D. I told you things weren’t what you think with Mom and Dad.”

And that’s about enough of that. I’m definitely not in the mood to go there. Especially with Paul and the sewing guy here.

I push to my feet. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s get this over with.”

***

“The ties are pink.”

I can’t believe my brother expects me to wear a pink tie. I don’t ever remember him liking pink before. The suits are okay. They’re kind of thin, which to me is weird since the wedding is in March. They’re a khaki color, called summer suits or something like that.

“Mauve.” Derrick stands in front of a mirror while the guy measures him. He’s got a huge smile on his face like he’s not setting us up in suits for the wrong season and pink ties.