Mark My Words

24 | Strange Naked Strangers

Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Somehow, Jamie-Lee managed not to tell Lennie or Joanna about the final dress fitting, because that Friday after a vigorous pre-weekend game practice, Rosalie wound up alone in Jamie-Lee's car. They hadn't spent all that much time alone together, and the realization that she was with a boy hit her hard. She wasn't sure if her sweat was from working out before, or just hormone secretion.

She reached the shoulder of her cutoff shirt and rubbed it over her forehead and discretely sniffed herself. Yeah, definitely disgusting. Why didn't she think to put more deodorant on before leaving the locker room?

"Rosalie, I can't even smell you from over here," Jamie said, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he turned out of the school parking lot.

"Sorry. It's just—I mean, your mom really intimidates me, alright? And she's gonna be all up in my pits, you know?" she said, waving her hands in front of her armpits.

"She's dealt with me my entire life—you can't smell worse than me after practice," he said with a scoff.

"Yeah, but doesn't your coach make you guys shower after?"

"What? No."

"Your hair's still wet from the showers," Rosalie sighed.

"Okay, fine, but that's just because I gotta maintain all this." He dragged a hand down his side, and Rosalie slapped a hand over her face to keep from giggling. "Honestly, my mom won't care. And if you want, you could use my shower before the fitting."

She knew it'd be weird, but she was desperate. "That... would actually be ideal. Would you really let me use your—"

"Yes! Oh my God, Rosalie, just use the damn shower," he laughed, shoving her in the arm.

She grinned, and watched his cheeky dimples show. It felt as though all the blood in her torso swept up to her heart and neck, flushing her skin bright red underneath the gnarly cut off tee she wore for practice. She turned her eyes out of the passenger window so she wouldn't have to confess how much she... actually might have liked Jamie-Lee Berry.

How many girls at Bradshaw could say that with serious conviction? Not many at all, she imagined. He was too immature in class to warrant their serious affections.

The house was relatively quiet when they arrived in the garage and stepped in through the side door near the kitchen. Jamie scoped out the coast, and they rushed as fast as they could with Jamie's bum ankle. They hurried through the rampant kitchen disaster, crushing fallen noodles beneath their sneakers. Rosalie grumbled under her feet about someone needing to sweep before Jamie took her by the hand around the corner and up a narrow staircase disguised as a pantry. When he opened the door, she hadn't expected to find steps.

He shut the door behind them and pushed her in the back, saying, "Up! Up! Up!"

"Alright, alright, I'm goin'," she said, laughing, swinging around the railing and emerging into a carpeted hallway. She lifted her foot up from what appeared to be a nail polish stain, and frowned at it before Jamie caught up with her and directed her to what appeared to be a three-bedroom intersection. The space was cut triangularly, and on one of the diagonal walls stood a wooden door marked with Jamie's name on it. By the state of the hand prints, one of his siblings must have made it.

"After you," he said with a bow.

"Don't mind if I do," she said with a curtsey. She spun into the room, swinging her backpack down as she took in the state of Jamie-Lee's affairs.