Leap Of Faith

Chapter Twelve

[photo by Jennie Clavel  from Unsplash]

Leni

It's 5:40. Topher won't arrive for another twenty minutes. That's too long to be cooped-up in this house and not long enough for a walk on the beach—and my mouth is dry. Why is my mouth so dry?

I twist an elastic band around the end of my braid and head for the kitchen. I'm so focused on the refrigerator I don't realize Matt and Dee are back from their shopping date until it's too late. Thankfully, Matt's attention is on his phone and Dee is focused on the oversized binder draped across her lap. So maybe if I just keep walking and don't make eye—

"You should wear your hair down," Dee says.

I open the refrigerator with a long, exaggerated sigh that's meant to be a message. I want to tell my sister that she should mind her own business, but I keep it to myself because I'm a mature adult.

"Matt, tell her," Dee says. She elbows him before she moves her sacred wedding binder to the coffee table and stands.

"You should wear your hair down," he parrots. "The braid makes you look fourteen."

My neck hairs bristle. I wish his opinion didn't matter to me.

And crap, now I can't remember what I wanted from the fridge. I slam it closed and circle the couch on my way back to my bedroom—but Matt anticipates my intentions and uses a throw pillow to block any attempt of physical retaliation.

"Why don't you wear the orange blouse I bought for your birthday?" Dee asks, trailing me down the hallway.

"Because what I have on is fine."

I roll my eyes at myself because of my tone. So much for being a mature adult. I stop in front of the large mirror hanging over my dresser, unravel my hair and use my fingers to loosen the waves.

Dee picks up a brush. "You look like you're dressed for a tennis match," she says, wielding it like a pointed finger. "Does that mean you told Topher this isn't a date?"

The answer is no, but the thought crossed my mind this morning when Topher called.

Actually it was after he called, while I was cleaning up the rancid mess I made. John was being annoyingly attentive and I was reminded of all the times Dee insinuated that he might be attracted to me. Which led to an unconscious—at least to begin with—comparison of John and Topher. I shut it down the moment I realized what I was doing, but by then the damage was done. I'm fond of John. He's like a mentor. Or maybe an uncle substitute—sort of like Pop's business partner.

And I'm even more confused about my feelings for Topher.

"Please go away," I tell Dee. "You're making me nervous."

Dee's I-know-what's-going-on-here smile stretches across her face like it's happening in slo-mo.

"It's not a date," I say. "Or it won't be. I'm going to tell him that..." Ugh. I have no idea what I'm going to say. "But he'll know after tonight." I yank my windbreaker out of my closet, sending the wire hanger clanging into the wall.

"He'll know what, Leni?"

"That I'm not...I don't think of him as..." I groan, sideswiping Dee on the way out of the room, and I don't stop until I'm in the driveway.

The tailgate of Pop's old pickup truck creaks when I lower it. But then I close it right back up again. There's no way I can sit down right now. I walk to the driver-side mirror, angling it so I can check my shirt. It is a little on the athletic side, but the color is good. This shade of blue helps bring some color into my eyes so they don't look so washed out.