Page 122 of Finding Him
“No,” I lie, shaking my head and blinking hard. “I’m just... thinking about dad.”
“Oh,” she says softly. “Me too... I wish he could be here.”
I pull her into a hug, squeezing my eyes tight and letting just a couple tears slip into her hair. “Me too, Claire. Me too. But he’d have probably fainted at the price tag, so maybe it’s for the best.”
She lets out a watery laugh, leaning her head against my chest. “That’s true.”
I open my eyes again, and can see JJ standing behind us in the mirror, by the doorway of the alcove. The expression on his face actually hurt me to look at. I catch his eye in the mirror, and we share a short look.
“You look brilliant, Claire-Bear,” JJ speaks up, his voice surprising me in steadiness. “Yellow always was your best colour.”
Claire looks at him over my shoulder, and I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Thanks JJ.”
48
In a World of Boys
Molly
December, 2007
CHECKING MY HAIRin Chloe’s mirror for the millionth time, I try to steady my breathing with a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to calm the frantic butterfly wings beating against my ribs.
The girl staring back at me looks like a stranger, her eyes wide with a panic I feel all the way down to my toes.
When I asked Niall what day he had in mind for our date, he had said, “as soon as possible.” Which is why it’s Thursday afternoon and I’m currently freaking out in Chloe’s bedroom. My date is still hours away—dinner time—but she insisted you have to get ready hours before.
I trust Chloe more than I trust myself. She’s had three, count them, three boyfriends, back in London, so she’s practically a seasoned expert in the arcane art of dating. I trust her opinions on everything right now.
“Molly—calm down.” Chloe laughs, not unkindly, as she sifts through a mountain of clothes in her closet. All her clothes are really fancy things she gets from her mother, who’s a fashion designer back in London. “What color are we thinkingof wearing? We need some sort of theme to work off of if we’re going to get anywhere.”
“I’m gonna throw up,” I announce, biting down on my lip so hard I taste blood.I have to stop doing that. “God, what are we gonna even talk about?”
“I don’t know, what do you guys normally talk about?” she huffs, pulling her head out of the closet, holding a selection of sweaters over her forearm. She drapes them over her bed, a rainbow of soft knits.
“I don’t remember,” I wail, stopping my pacing to clutch my head in my hands. “I don’t remember anything about him. Or myself. What’s my middle name again? Do I even have a personality? What are my interests?”
“Being a Drama Queen, apparently,” she shakes her head, a fond expression in her hazel eyes as she grabs me by the shoulders and steers me over to her bed like I’m a lost puppy. She pushes me down onto the duvet, which is so soft I feel like I’m sinking into a cloud. “Have you really never been on a date before?”
“Once, kinda,” I admit, curling my knees up to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. “But I was in ninth grade and we went to a movie theatre and he tried to touch my boob during the opening credits of some stupid movie I didn’t even really want to see. It was... not a success.”
Chloe wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Ew. Well, we know Niall wouldn’t do anything like that. He’s a gentleman. He probably asks permission to hold your hand.”
“I know. That’s not the point,” I groan, flopping back onto the bed and staring up at her ceiling, which is painted a delicate shade of blush pink. “What if I’m just... bad at dating? What if I’m a terrible conversationalist? What if I spill food all over myself? What if I laugh at something that’s not even funny?”
“It’s impossible to be bad at dating,” she says, sitting down next to me and patting my leg reassuringly. “You just have to be yourself. That’s how he likes you, remember? The girl who’s smart and funny and crazy sexy when playing football. Just be that girl.”
I groan even though her words are helpful, stretching my legs out in front of me again. I’m taller than Chloe so I had to bring my own pants, a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that I’m hoping are acceptable. “But what if he realizes that I suck? Like, what if he’s used to these cool, confident Irish girls and he gets... me?”
Chloe sighs, her expression softening. “Molly. Niall Blue is obsessed with you. He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. He’s not gonna change his mind just because you might be a little awkward on your first date. I’ve seen the way he gets when he looks at you—it’s disgusting, really. All heart eyes and visions of dancing in flowers.”
I peek over at her from under my arm. “Really?”
“Yes. You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
