pumping faux-classical versions of hard rock songs. Guns N’ Roses by synthesizer. I feel something shift in me as soon as we walk in.
Holly’s distracted by the dress section.
Nick’s lagging. “Let’s help Holly find a dress.”
“He hasn’t even asked me yet!” She’s touching a sequined halter dress. “I’m not trying on dresses until he asks me! Unless he asks me.”
“Then let’s go pick out Vanessa’s paycheck clothes.”
“Nick and I have a mission.” I want to get the makeup so that he can stop angsting over his zit and we can get out of here.
“I’m actually not so sure about the whole Dazzle thing. It might be weird.” Nick can be like this.
“It’s not weird. If you want concealer, you have every right to buy it. Right, Holly?”
She nods. “Sure.”
“You wear guyliner, Nick. How is this any different?” I take his hand.
He walks with me. “I guess it’s not.”
I can see how it feels like a big deal, though. No other guy I know—not even James, who is more of a man than just a guy—would buy concealer at a makeup counter. Or anywhere. But maybe this is just part of Nick accepting himself. He
wants
the stuff.
The lady is ringing up a woman who looks about Grampie’s age. The thought crosses my mind that Grampie wouldn’t look so gray if he’d use some blush or bronzer, but that’s silly. He wouldn’t be himself if he did that.
Holly goes off to smell the perfumes while Nick kneels down to look at the display.
The lady ignores us, messing around with the credit card tape.
I pick up a sample tube of Pomegranate Juice Sleek Shine gloss. Squeeze it, dab a bit on my finger, and coat my lips.
Nick stands up. “That’s hot.”
I look in the mirror and have to agree. I pucker up. “Yeah. Like I’d pay fourteen dollars for this tiny tube.”
The lady comes over, finally. “Can I ring that up for you?” she asks me, a smile revealing too-white teeth.
I shake my head and put the sample tube back. “Not today.” I elbow Nick.
He says nothing.
I’m going to have to take the lead. “My friend here needs some concealer.”
The woman looks at Holly.
“Not that friend. This friend.”
The woman looks at Nick. She’s still smiling, but her teeth aren’t showing. Something’s going on beneath her surface.
“What shade do you recommend?” I ask her.
“For him?”
Nick’s pretending to study the lip glosses.
“She needs to see your face,” I say to him.
She hesitates a beat too long before saying, “Let me grab my sample bottles.”
She’s not even talking directly to him! I need to fix the tension between Nick and me, and get him to see that he can be whoever he is and that no one will judge, but now this lady is being difficult. “He’s just one of the girls,” I say.
I feel Nick stiffen.
I crossed a line. A major line.
She moves her gaze over to me. “One moment.”
She bends down to reach for a cover-up bottle.
And it’s undeniable.
This lady rolls her eyes.
While she’s searching for a color, Nick grabs my hand and leads me away. Holly follows.
“Grecian Beauty?” the woman asks as we walk off.
We walk past hosiery, past sunglasses, past handbags, and we’re on the street.
People rush by.
Nick looks at me, wide-eyed, and I can tell he’s expecting me to say something. I know. I know. I know. I’ve so let him down.
“Maybe you should just get something at the drugstore,” I say. Lame.
He walks off toward the bus stop, Holly and I follow, and we ride home silently, him looking out the window, me biting my pinkie nail. Holly gets another text from Wilson, so she’s distracted. “He wants to meet up.” She’s still beaming, but it’s not quite the moment it was before.
When the bus stops in Fremont and Holly stands up to go, Nick says, “We’re really going shopping once the dance is official.”
“Definitely,” she says.
I wonder if I’m still included in that scenario. I give her a weak wave, and she returns
Holly’s distracted by the dress section.
Nick’s lagging. “Let’s help Holly find a dress.”
“He hasn’t even asked me yet!” She’s touching a sequined halter dress. “I’m not trying on dresses until he asks me! Unless he asks me.”
“Then let’s go pick out Vanessa’s paycheck clothes.”
“Nick and I have a mission.” I want to get the makeup so that he can stop angsting over his zit and we can get out of here.
“I’m actually not so sure about the whole Dazzle thing. It might be weird.” Nick can be like this.
“It’s not weird. If you want concealer, you have every right to buy it. Right, Holly?”
She nods. “Sure.”
“You wear guyliner, Nick. How is this any different?” I take his hand.
He walks with me. “I guess it’s not.”
I can see how it feels like a big deal, though. No other guy I know—not even James, who is more of a man than just a guy—would buy concealer at a makeup counter. Or anywhere. But maybe this is just part of Nick accepting himself. He
wants
the stuff.
The lady is ringing up a woman who looks about Grampie’s age. The thought crosses my mind that Grampie wouldn’t look so gray if he’d use some blush or bronzer, but that’s silly. He wouldn’t be himself if he did that.
Holly goes off to smell the perfumes while Nick kneels down to look at the display.
The lady ignores us, messing around with the credit card tape.
I pick up a sample tube of Pomegranate Juice Sleek Shine gloss. Squeeze it, dab a bit on my finger, and coat my lips.
Nick stands up. “That’s hot.”
I look in the mirror and have to agree. I pucker up. “Yeah. Like I’d pay fourteen dollars for this tiny tube.”
The lady comes over, finally. “Can I ring that up for you?” she asks me, a smile revealing too-white teeth.
I shake my head and put the sample tube back. “Not today.” I elbow Nick.
He says nothing.
I’m going to have to take the lead. “My friend here needs some concealer.”
The woman looks at Holly.
“Not that friend. This friend.”
The woman looks at Nick. She’s still smiling, but her teeth aren’t showing. Something’s going on beneath her surface.
“What shade do you recommend?” I ask her.
“For him?”
Nick’s pretending to study the lip glosses.
“She needs to see your face,” I say to him.
She hesitates a beat too long before saying, “Let me grab my sample bottles.”
She’s not even talking directly to him! I need to fix the tension between Nick and me, and get him to see that he can be whoever he is and that no one will judge, but now this lady is being difficult. “He’s just one of the girls,” I say.
I feel Nick stiffen.
I crossed a line. A major line.
She moves her gaze over to me. “One moment.”
She bends down to reach for a cover-up bottle.
And it’s undeniable.
This lady rolls her eyes.
While she’s searching for a color, Nick grabs my hand and leads me away. Holly follows.
“Grecian Beauty?” the woman asks as we walk off.
We walk past hosiery, past sunglasses, past handbags, and we’re on the street.
People rush by.
Nick looks at me, wide-eyed, and I can tell he’s expecting me to say something. I know. I know. I know. I’ve so let him down.
“Maybe you should just get something at the drugstore,” I say. Lame.
He walks off toward the bus stop, Holly and I follow, and we ride home silently, him looking out the window, me biting my pinkie nail. Holly gets another text from Wilson, so she’s distracted. “He wants to meet up.” She’s still beaming, but it’s not quite the moment it was before.
When the bus stops in Fremont and Holly stands up to go, Nick says, “We’re really going shopping once the dance is official.”
“Definitely,” she says.
I wonder if I’m still included in that scenario. I give her a weak wave, and she returns
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