Page 72 of Eye of the Beholder
But right now, in this moment, Iwantit to be my business. I need to get out of here. My brain is clearly malfunctioning, and I need sleep.
I need to hold it together just long enough to get out of this room.
“I have to go,” I say, gathering my things and dumping them unceremoniously into my bag. “Finish your practice test.”
I don’t look at Cohen, but I see him nod from the corner of my vision. I can also see that he’s watching me.
But he doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. Instead I just yank my bag over my shoulder and all but barrel out of the room, closing the door firmly behind me as I leave.
***
We usually text throughout the day, but I don’t hear from Cohen at all on Friday. I don’t talk to him, either. I can’t say why. I don’t know. All I know is that the image of Cohen kissing some faceless girl makes me want to vomit, and the thought of going out with Jack is almost as upsetting.
My introspective side has a pretty good idea what this means, but I’m still living comfortably in denial, because I don’t want to think about that right now. I’m going out with Jack. That’s that.
“Is there any way I could borrow a dress?” I say to Lydia at lunch. “I’m going out with Jack tonight at six. Cohen says the restaurant is nice.”
Lydia eyes me, and I can’t quite meet her eye, so I stare at my sandwich instead.
“You don’t seem excited,” she says, her voice gentle. “Are you okay?”
“Yep,” I say. “I’m just tired.”
She’s quiet for a second. “All right,” she says, but she sounds unconvinced. “Well, I have a dress you can borrow. Come over tonight at five and I’ll help you get ready.”
I hesitate.
“I think Cohen will still be at practice,” she says, as if she knows what I’m thinking.
“Oh,” I say, relief flooding me. “Okay. Thanks, Lydia.”
The day somehow goes both slowly and quickly at the same time. That night when I show up at her house, Lydia is back to her normal chipper self. I think I like her better this way. Earlier she was a little too observant for my comfort.
“Come see the dress,” she says, smiling at me, and I smile back.
“Thanks for helping,” I say as I follow her up the stairs. I can’t help sneaking a glance at Cohen’s bedroom over my shoulder as I go into Lydia’s room; sure enough, the door is open and the light is off. He’s not home.
Lydia pulls open her closet and rummages around for a second. “Here,” she says, pulling something out. She holds it up. It’s a classic little black dress, but I can’t tell much more than that when it’s on the hanger.
“It’s pretty short on me, but I’m taller than you; I think you’ll be comfortable with the length,” she says. She pulls it off the hanger. “Try it on. I’ll turn around.”
I shimmy into the dress, and Lydia’s right; it hits just above my knees, which I’m okay with. It fits snugly to my body, and the sleeves flutter loosely over my shoulders. The neckline scoops low, but not so low that anything is hanging out. It’s perfect, really.
“It’s great,” I say, and Lydia turns around. She claps her hands together.
“Excellent,” she says, beaming at me. “Now, come on. Hair and makeup. Oh, and jewelry. And shoes!” she says. “We have to hurry. I have so much fairy-godmothering to do!”
She somehow does in forty minutes what it would take me hours to do with my hair and my face. She seems to have mastered the smoky eye, a look I’ve always loved but have never tried. She straightens my hair until it’s straighter than it’s ever been. Then she digs through her closet and takes out two pairs of shoes—both black, both sky-high, both gorgeous.
“See if either of these fit you.”
It turns out that Lydia’s feet are bigger than mine, but one of the pairs of shoes fits me at least well enough to wear out. I practice walking in them a few times until she’s satisfied that they’re not going to fall off my feet.
“You are a babe,” Lydia says when she stands back and surveys her handiwork. “Oh!” she says. “I forgot. Here.” She runs to her vanity, digs through a little pink jewelry box, and then runs back to me with a pair of silver hoop earrings. I put them on.
“Perfect,” Lydia says with a happy sigh.
And I wouldn’t say perfect, but I am willing to admit I’ve never looked this good.