The pink blouse. I’d forgotten all about it. It shimmers and quivers with my every movement. My shoulders are exposed. You can practically see through the translucent material to where my polka dot bra is. I look stupid. I can feel everyone looking at me and I know they think I look stupid, and ugly, and that it doesn’t suit me.

Jack’s gone still, frozen halfway between raising his tea cup to his mouth. His eyes are on me, on every part of me as he looks me up and down with a slow, deliberate gaze.

I start to pull my jacket back on, but Jack’s hand stops me.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s not right,” I hiss. “I didn’t mean to – I wasn’t supposed to take it off. It looks stupid on me –”

“No.” He interrupts. “Not at all.”

“Just –” I reach for my jacket.

“It’s beautiful,” He says softly, then clears his throat. “You look…beautiful.”

An iron fist squeezes my heart, my throat, my stomach, and then lets go, a bittersweet burn spreading through my body like fire. I savor it one moment, and then suspect it the next, and then I realize what’s really happening.

“I get it!” I smile. “You’re still in escort mode from all that time with Kayla! It was only a few minutes ago your guys’ date ended, after all.”

“What? No, I –”

“It’s okay, really! You just forgot to flip the switch back from escort you to regular you. Totally understandable. Work and life are hard to compartmentalize. Thanks for the compliment though! I bet I’d have to pay at least ten bucks to hear it if I was a client, huh? But I got it for free. Score!”

“Isis – ”

Jack’s cut off by Fujiwara crowing apologies as she comes between us with a tray of tiny tea cakes, cookies, and a few scoops of green tea ice cream. I pull my jacket on and zip it all the way up to my chin. I chat with Fujiwara excitedly the entire time I eat dessert, talking about how good the sushi was, and where she gets her fish from, asking the best tips for getting green tea stains from jackets, and thanking her for the sweets. Jack’s silent, picking at the cookies, and Fujiwara brings him the bill.

“I’ll pay half,” I offer, leaning over to look at the price tag. My eyes practically bug out. Jack waves the envelope I gave him the money in.

“You already have.”

We drive back to the Red Fern parking lot in silence. I busy myself with my phone, trying not to see the white knuckles Jack has on the steering wheel.

“You must be tired,” I say when he pulls into the parking lot and I get out. “Get some rest, okay? And thanks for the practice date! Not that I’ll ever need to practice, since, you know, it’s never going to happen, but it was a nice thought. I had fun.”

“You’ll have more fun,” Jack says, hands in his pockets and a faintly pained look in his eyes. “You’ll go on more dates, with other guys. And you’ll have fun.”

I shake my head. “I won’t. I told you – that kind of stuff isn’t for me.”

“It is.” Jack insists. “You’ll fall in love someday.”

I laugh. “Nope. Never again. It’s been three years, and it’ll be a hundred more. Drive safe, okay?”

I whirl around and start walking to my car. I swear I feel fingers glance over my hand, but they pull away just as quickly. Or maybe it was the wind. I don’t look back. I drive home. When I check on her room Mom is mercifully asleep, safe and sound. I pull my shirt off as soon as I can and throw it in the closet to rot.

Beautiful.

***

Part of me wanted to grab her. To pull her back. To hold her.

Another part of me knew she’ll hate the first man to do it after so long.

And the third part of me is afraid.  Afraid at her conviction. Afraid of how convinced she is that she’ll never love again. Afraid of how pretty she looked in that blouse. Afraid of how sad she sounded when she convinced herself I didn’t mean what I said.

I am afraid of the things I am beginning to feel.

Because I haven’t felt anything new, for anyone new, for so long.

***

I wake up to Kayla’s texts filled with smiley faces and exclamation marks, describing her date – how kind Jack was, how good the food they ate was, and how he kissed her like he loved her. She’s going to ask him out again on Monday, and she thanks me a million times for whatever I did to get him to go out with her.

Mom’s at the table, sipping coffee.

“Sleep well?” I ask.

Mom smiles and nods. “Pretty well. You must’ve gotten in late, I didn’t hear you. Did you have fun?”

I recall the sushi place, and how delicious it was. I remember the tea and puking and Jack’s soft eyes –

Beautiful

“Yeah,” I force a smile. “It was fun.”

“Boys?”

“Just one.”

Mom quirks a brow, smiling. “Oh really? Not a dozen guys, this time? Just one? He must be special. Care to tell me about him?”

“Nothing happened! I just - there was a guy.”

“Booze?”

“Not even a bit of sake.”

“So it was a sushi place? With a boy? Sounds very suspect, young lady. Did you use protection?”

“Mom!” I snap, my face heating. “I’ve told you repeatedly; boys have cooties and bad hygiene. No one likes them except other boys and people with no sense of smell.”

“So I can expect you to bring home a girl one of these days? I’ll try to act shocked.” She smiles.

“I’m not bringing anyone home!” I wail. “I know it’s hard to believe, but some people my age aren’t entirely obsessed with the idiotic game called dating! Some of us have lives! And generally higher goals than messing around in the mud with the opposite sex. I’ve got colleges to apply to! And friends to hang out with! And an entire life to plan!”

“Whatever you say,” Mom singsongs, smiling knowingly. I take out a pan and start the burner, taking out a few eggs and slices of bacon. I can feel Mom’s eyes on my back, watching me, contemplating how much I’ve grown up or something equally annoyingly parental. The smell of sizzling bacon fat fills the kitchen. The birds chirp outside, sun streaming through the curtains. It’s beautiful.

Beautiful.

My skin prickles as his voice reverberates in my head. It makes me fumble with the pan and nearly sends all of breakfast casually crashing to the floor. Goddamn him! Even if he didn’t mean it, it still sticks in my head, like a grass thistle in my clothes.

And to put the shit-cherry on top of a shit-sundae, I can’t even lash out at him over it. The war is over.

I know that from how happy Kayla seemed. With her now satiated, I have no reason to attack him, other than general dislike and boredom. And those are petty. So petty I don’t know if I’ll have the heart to fight him with them.

It’s over.

I’m supposed to be happy. I won, more or less. Or we ended on equal terms, with me slightly winning. Or am I losing? Did him calling me that awfully wrong word mean he won? Does it even matter who won or lost? It’s over, and now I have nothing to look forward to. Nothing to scheme, nothing to plot for. Just emptiness where the war used to be. And somehow it hurts more than it should. I’d gotten so used to it, to exchanging barbed words with Jack whenever we passed in the hall or catcalling him with insults that I’ve forgotten how to be normal. Do I just smile at him? No, that’s repulsively, completely, definitely gross. All the other girls do that.

I spend the rest of the day finishing my college applications. I stare at them all – Seattle, Oregon – and secretly I know I’m only going to be sending off the one to Ohio State. It’s the closest. It’s the only one that’ll let me still look after Mom and get a college career at the same time. I don’t have siblings – I’m the only person she has left. I can’t leave her, hurt her like everyone else has. I dipped into my Europe travelling fund to pay for Kayla’s date last night. I’ve pretty much all but given up on that dream, anyway.

But it’s for the best. It’s the right choice. Not the one I wanna do, but the right one. And that’s all that matters.