Other Words for Love (24 page)

A few days earlier, I had made a decision. I wasn’t going to look like a Hollister student anymore, with simple hair and preppy pearls, because simple and preppy hadn’t gotten me anywhere. Simple preppy girls wasted their youth and got dumped by their boyfriends, while flashy sexy girls lived it up in Manhattan, where they dished out
experience
. I decided that I was going to be someone else—someone glamorous and sophisticated, someone who wasn’t dull and boring and average, someone who wasn’t afraid of doing sinful things.

I outlined my eyes in black and smeared them with gray, then chose a lipstick the color of a ripe cherry. My clothes were waiting on the bed—a satiny bustier I’d picked up at one of those trendy stores where women who wear five-inch heels tend to shop. I also bought snug leather pants, stiletto pumps, and dangly earrings that grazed my shoulders.

My hair hung straight and dark around my face. I couldn’t let it stay that way—it was nothing but
preppy crap—
so I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a long bang that brushed my left eye. I threw some hot rollers into the rest and sprayed everything with Aqua Net after I took them out, and when I was in my bustier and my leather pants and my heels and my ruby necklace, I barely recognized myself. I looked like what I was—a girl whose parents were at a second cousin’s third wedding in Yonkers, tricked into believing that their daughter was spending the night with her calculus books.

So what if I lied? Being good didn’t get me anywhere. I’d spent my entire life being good, studying and babysitting and trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings. I was through with being nice.

I didn’t exactly have a plan for that night. All I knew was that Blake might be there and that Del would definitely be there, and I wasn’t sure which one of them I wanted to see.

At first I only saw Leigh, who was wearing a tweed cap and matching coat and waiting for me in the cold. There was a bouncer beside her who handed me five of the half-price drink coupons.

“Are you in disguise?” she asked, looking me up and down.

“No,” I said. “I’m new and improved.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Why? You were fine the way you were before.”

“Not quite,” I said, and started walking toward the door.

The club was just the way I remembered it—smoky air and flashing lights, music so loud that I had to read Leigh’s lips. She pulled off her hat and nodded at the coupons in my hand. “Those will be wasted on us … you can give them to my mother if you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” I said, because I wanted to try drinking and forget everything.

Leigh clutched my arm and spoke into my ear. “Ari,” she said. “I don’t like the way Blake’s treated you, and I hope this
new and improved
stuff isn’t for him. You’re better than that.”

This was the last thing I wanted to hear. Leigh was being practical, like Mom, and I wasn’t in a practical mood. So I ignored her and walked toward the bar. It was a cinch to get the first drink, and the second and the third, because the bartender was so busy staring at my chest that he didn’t bother to ask for ID. It was probably too dark to notice that I wasn’t exactly even.

I felt like I was levitating. The floor blinked in yellow and red and blue while Rachel and Leigh and I danced, but after a while I ran out of steam and Rachel got all motherly.

“How much did you have to drink, honey?” she asked.

I shrugged. I had ordered a beer and a wine cooler and two White Russians that I downed quickly because they tasted as harmless as chocolate milk. Rachel shook her head and wagged her finger and told me to get a big glass of water. So I sat on faux zebra skin at the bar, guzzling Evian and watching bartenders juggle bottles.

I was there for a half hour before I saw Blake, who was at the other end of the bar. He was dressed differently than usual, similar to Del, in a dark blazer and a shirt with the top few buttons undone, and he was talking with two girls. Neither of them was Summer, but they were so much prettier than me. Then I looked around at all the pretty girls in the club. There were tons of them, swarming like a million ants on a discarded piece of candy. I couldn’t even count them all. Why would Blake want me when he could choose any of them?

It was so depressing. I sat on the stool watching him, even though he didn’t notice. He walked away a few minutes later and I stalked him through the club. He disappeared into the men’s room and I waited outside, thinking this was my chance and I had to take it.

He didn’t recognize me when he came out. He walked by and didn’t turn his head until I called his name. “Ari?” he said, like I was wearing a Halloween costume.

He looked down at me and I smiled up at him. “Hi,” I said as my heart pounded.

“What’s all this?” he asked, motioning to my clothes and my stiletto heels.

“I don’t know,” I said, flirtatiously lifting a bare shoulder. “Don’t you like it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I wanted to talk to him. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. But it was too loud to hear myself think, so I nodded toward the men’s room. It was empty and we locked ourselves in a stall.

I pressed my back against the partition that separated our stall from the next. Blake stood opposite me, leaning into the wall.

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” he asked. “I can smell it on you.”

I shrugged and tried to be flirty again. “Maybe a little.”

“You don’t drink,” he said, moving his eyes from my heels to my hair. “This isn’t you.”

“Good. I don’t want to be me.” I looked down at the tiles beneath my feet. They were ceramic, the high-quality kind. I was sure that Del had spent a lot of money on this bathroom, but nobody respected it. They just scribbled on the walls and left empty toilet-paper rolls on the floor. “Anyway, I thought you’d like my outfit. It’s the kind of thing Summer wears. You two are close friends now, from what I’ve heard.”

He sighed. “We aren’t. I don’t care about Summer.”

“Then why did you sleep with her?” I asked. “I thought you were a gentleman. I thought you didn’t sleep with girls you didn’t care about. You told me it wasn’t any good that way.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. She was a mistake,” he said, and that wasn’t the denial I craved. So I just stood there in a stony silence until he opened his mouth again. “I miss you, Ari. I think about you constantly.”

“Liar,” I said. “You don’t care about me anymore.”

“I care about you too much. That’s the whole problem.”

That wasn’t a problem. That couldn’t be a problem. A rush of hope flooded through me and I forgave him for everything as I threw myself across the stall and into his arms, where he kissed me and I kissed him back.

I heard the bathroom door creak, men’s voices over the faucet running. They were talking about money in hushed tones: I was probably eavesdropping on a drug deal, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Blake and I were in a filthy bathroom, kissing beside a toilet. The only important thing was that we were kissing.

It was comforting and familiar—his smell, his taste, his tongue on my skin. His hand went down my bustier and I hooked one leg around his waist and then he said, “We can’t. I don’t have anything with me.”

I knew he was talking about protection and I started to think crazy things, desperate things, like Evelyn saying that Patrick had loved her more when she was carrying his baby, and I thought that Blake might love me again if I was carrying his.
Guys are funny that way
. So I stayed where I was and I moved my hand downward to feel him through his pants.

“Stop it,” he said. “We can’t.”

I dropped to my knees and unbuckled his belt. “Can we do this?”

I didn’t even sound like me. I sounded like some other girl who was used to wearing trashy clothes and tempting men by getting on her knees. Blake gripped my arms and pushed me away.

“Don’t, Ari.”

“Why? I want to.”

“Stop it,” he said again, sharply this time. He yanked me to my feet, adjusted my bustier because it was falling off. I tried to kiss him but he wouldn’t let me, and that didn’t make sense because he missed me and he thought about me constantly. So I kept trying until he held my wrists to make me stop. “Look at where we are, Ari. This isn’t you. You’re a nice girl.”

“I don’t want to be a nice girl,” I said, sliding my hand to his groin.

He stepped back. “Don’t talk like that.”

Nothing I did was right. “How do you want me to talk? I’ll do whatever you want.”

Blake took off his jacket and put it over my shoulders. “I want you to go home,” he said. “And keep this on. You shouldn’t be walking around in that getup. People will get the wrong idea.”

I started to cry. Softly at first, and then harder, until I could barely see through my tears and I lost it. I screeched at Blake that I couldn’t think straight anymore and that I didn’t care about school or life and I would never love anybody but him and I just wanted to die.

“Don’t say that,” he said. “I’m not worth it.”

But I thought he was worth it. So I said it again and again and then his palm cracked against my cheek. It was the kind of slap that people use to wake someone from a fainting spell or a fit of hysterics.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Just calm down. Please. I can’t stand seeing you this way.”

He couldn’t stand seeing me this way? It was his fault that I
was
this way. My cheek was stinging and I felt angry suddenly. I sniffed, wiped my nose, and struggled to compose myself.

“Summer stole your cousin’s bracelet, you know.” I had stopped crying and now I stood there with my chest heaving and my hands on my hips. “She kept it hidden for months even though she knew how much it meant to Leigh. And if you’re wondering why Jessica ran off, ask your father. He’s the one who made her dump you. He bribed her. He probably tried to blackmail her too—that’s what he pulled on me, but I didn’t fall for it.”

I was so proud of myself for saying that, but I didn’t feel proud when I noticed how Blake was looking at me. It was like he didn’t believe me, like I was nothing but a pathetic liar. It made me angrier and I ripped off his mother’s necklace, threw it at his feet, and stormed from the bathroom into the smoky air.

Five minutes later I was alone, crying into my hands on the steps that led to Del’s apartment. I wished I hadn’t come here. I wished I hadn’t thrown the necklace at Blake. I wished I’d never been born.

My head was killing me and the noise from the club made it worse. The thought of taking my migraine pills before I left home tonight hadn’t even crossed my mind. I heard the jingle of keys and I turned toward the banister, hoping that whoever was coming would just keep going. Then there were feet in front of me and I heard a deep voice.

“What’s the matter?”

I looked up and saw Del. “Nothing. I’ve got a headache. I have to go.”

He crouched down and touched my arm. I glanced at his hand and it was the same as Blake’s except for the pinkie ring, and that made me cry again.

“You’re not crying about my brother, are you?” he asked. “He’s just a stupid kid.”

“He is not,” I said.

Del sat next to me, watching tears pour down my face. Then he massaged my aching temples with his fingertips. It surprised me and it felt really nice. It felt even better when he put both arms around me and I leaned my head against his strong shoulder and his silky shirt that smelled of cigarettes.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t cry. Blake doesn’t deserve you.”

My mascara was melting onto my cheeks and I couldn’t stop bawling, but Del didn’t make me feel ridiculous. He held me the way Patrick held Evelyn, the way I wanted, and I hoped he wouldn’t let go because there was nothing else keeping me together.

The next thing I knew, we were walking up the steps and into his apartment, where I saw his skylight and the waning moon. Del tossed his keys onto a table and we sat on his messy sheets. I was sniffling and shaking and he dried my face with his hands, which felt almost as good as Blake’s kisses on my neck.

“You like me, don’t you?” he asked. “You’ve always liked me.”

I nodded, thinking that his eyes were very green tonight.

“I’ve always liked you too,” he said as he traced my jaw with his finger.

That weakened me. I missed being touched, especially by someone who might not stop me from touching him back. I heard myself breathing, felt my heart pounding again. Del wasn’t Blake but he was as close as I could get, and I was thinking more crazy things.

“Really?” I said.

He nodded and I blinked because there were still tears in my eyes. The dark room looked dim and blurry, yet I saw his face getting closer to mine. He paused when our mouths were almost touching, as if waiting for me to back away, but I didn’t. I let him kiss me and I felt his scar. It was like a thick piece of twine against my lip. Soon he was lying on me and Blake’s jacket was on the floor and the top of my bustier was down at my ribs. I kept my eyes shut and I didn’t stop him from doing anything, even when he slid off my pants and tossed them away.

They landed on the hardwood with a thump and that woke me up. The music downstairs seemed louder, my vision was clear, and Del’s eyes had somehow changed to gray. Then I heard his belt buckle open and I was scared.

Del didn’t tell me not to be scared. He didn’t kiss my forehead. “Del,” I started, but my voice was so faint that he didn’t hear me and it was too late. I’d already let this go too far—we’d gone all the way. And it didn’t feel good anymore. It felt wrong. It felt like nothing. Now Del looked ugly—the gash on his lip, the downturn of his nose.

I was about to push him away but I didn’t need to. Everything had happened so fast, he was done already. He slumped against me, then rolled off and stared through the skylight as he tried to catch his breath. I looked around the room, at the bachelor-pad furniture and the mirror on the headboard. It all seemed tawdry and disgusting and what was I doing here? I should have stayed at home and studied calculus. I never should have said that I didn’t want to be a nice girl. Nothing felt worse than not being a nice girl.