Page 17 of Beautiful Small Things

“I like it,” he smiles and then closes his eyes and leans his head back on the seat, starting to fall into a drunken slumber.

Thank God that craziness is over.

I’m just about to start driving again when he speaks. “Iris, I think you should let me kiss you.”

I am rarely at a loss for words, but at this moment, I can’t think straight.

“Orion, you’re my cousin!” I say, gasping in disbelief.

“I’m not your cousin. Not for real,” he shrugs, with his eyes still closed.

“You’re 16!”

“I’m almost 17,” he says, opening an eye and peeking at me.

“Where did this idea come from?”

He sits up and looks at me. “I just like you so much,” he says, and my heart skips. “You’re such a cool person. We should kiss so you can get it out of the way and relax. Then you can go out with someone like Henry.”

Wow. He wants to kiss me to make me more likable to other people? Drunk or not, his insinuation is insulting. Not to mention embarrassing.

Without a word, I shift the car into drive and pull back onto the road. “You know what, COUSIN, don’t do me any favors.”

The remainder of the ride is spent in silence. When I pull into his driveway, he looks at me with remorse and pity. It pisses me off. “Go to bed, Orion.”

“Iris-” he starts.

“Say another word, and I will turn on every light in your house and create a symphony with pots and pans to ensure your parents know exactly what you were doing tonight.”

Silently, he gets out of the car and stumbles his way through the door.

I couldn’t sleep last night after my interaction with Orion. His words made me feel uncomfortable, yet they also excited me. He was drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying. But some argue that while alcohol doesn’t speak for the drunken person, it may give them the confidence to say things they normally would not.

Does Orion think I’m beautiful? Does he want to kiss me? Where did this idea come from? Ugh, this is why I stay away from relationships. They are messy and distracting.

“Iris, how does it fit?” I hear my father call from the other side of the changing room. I snap out of my stupor and look at myself in the mirror. It’s a lovely cornflower blue dress with spaghetti straps and a deep V in the center, fitted through the waist and flowing at the hips. I chose it for my award ceremony coming up at school. I’d rather skip the whole thing, but it seems essential to my father that I engage in the high school rites of passage, even though he has a business meeting in San Francisco and won’t be at the event.

He’s been jetting off to places several times monthly to get approval for this new drug. At least, Jem will be there, and I’m excellent with that.

“I’m coming out,” I tell him.

He smiles appreciatively when I emerge from the dressing room. “You look beautiful. That color is perfect. It compliments your eyes so well.”

“It is beautiful. I love it,” I say, looking down at the dress.

“Are you OK, Sweetie?” he asks. “You seem a little ‘off’ somehow.”

“I’m fine. I just had to pick Orion up last night from a party, so I’m tired.” I quickly add, “Don’t tell Aunt Colby.”

He laughs as he hugs me. “I won’t. I promise. Now get changed so we can go to lunch.”

We’re sitting in my favorite Italian restaurant twenty minutes later, with far less excitement than usual. I push the pasta around on my plate, not feeling hungry, which is unusual for me. I do feel “off” today, and I dislike it immensely.

“I’m so sorry I can’t attend the awards ceremony on Thursday. I feel like shit.”

“Dad, you can’t help when your investors call these meetings. It’s fine. It’s not like I won’t have other awards ceremonies.”

My admission makes him smile. “That’s true. But make sure you take lots of pictures.”