26
This was unreal.
No, wait, for it to be unreal, Evan would have to be feeling totally calm and cool. But the rum felt like it was trickling out of his pores stickily, and the hoodie and jeans he’d “borrowed” from Macy’s during their mall party suddenly felt like they were made of hot, heavy iron.
Finally, something was happening. He’d done something right.
Well, Leo had helped him do something right. When they’d all been trying on prom gear at Macy’s, Evan had helped Leo tie a bow tie while Leo had dispensed girl advice.
“Look, man,” Leo had said. “When it comes to chicks, it’s like … well, it’s like fighting those fucking aliens. You know how when you’re in the middle of it, all you’re thinking about really is you? It’s kind of that way with girls. The more you just think about you, the less you’re thinking about them, and the more they start to want you because they can’t believe you’re not just thinking about them.”
Evan had questioned the advice. “But you’re not doing that with Sarabeth.”
“Different. Sarabeth’s still new at this. She needs to realize that life outside the cocoon is safe. But Teena never had that shell. She was born a butterfly. And butterflies never land on you when you run around, trying to catch them. But if you stand still … ”
Evan had raised an eyebrow. “There’s a lot of metaphors going on,” he’d said.
“Girls are metaphors, dude,” Leo had said. Evan thought it was the smartest thing anyone had ever said.
Now, as Teena tugged him away toward the bedding—Bedding! They were about to bed!—section, all metaphors were unnecessary.
He walked behind her, his left hand dragging his bat uselessly at his side. When they kissed, what was he supposed to do with his hands? He didn’t want to put them anywhere lame that would be a turnoff. But he didn’t want to just grab onto her breasts or her butt. It seemed too forward and, honestly, uncreative.
They crossed behind a display bed fitted with a leopard-print comforter and another, more rigid bed done up in a crisp nautical motif. Both seemed a little threatening to Evan, their overly pillowed tops more a warning than a welcome. He knew they weren’t going to do “it”—well, didn’t know, but didn’t want to presume, either. He’d be happy just to touch her face and hold her close to him and have her kiss him back. He could deal with dying a virgin. But if he was going to die, it would at least be nice to know his feelings had been returned.
As she wove between more of the puffed-up display beds, Teena kept looking over her shoulder, but not at him. Evan wondered if the aloofness was her way of playing it cool. He wished he had some music or something. It felt so quiet now that they were alone, and the silence felt too big for him to fill when he had so much else on his mind.
Teena made her way past a red satin display bed that reminded Evan of coffin lining, or those Twilight movies. She looked so tiny among the tall shelves stacked with pillows and mattress toppers. Not looking right at Evan, she started running her fingertips over various sheets, assessing the thread counts. Evan wasn’t sure if this was an important part of their night together, or if he was losing her.
“So, what were your plans for this weekend if we hadn’t been attacked by aliens?” He thought it was a kind of funny question, and he came up beside her as he asked it. She’d traded her heeled boots for a pair of flat boots, and he realized how much shorter she was than he was. He’d have to crouch down kind of weirdly for a kiss to even work.
Teena shrugged, not looking at him but studying the diamond pattern on a set of Egyptian-cotton sheets. “I probably would have wound up here somehow,” she said, with a little laugh. “The mall, I mean.”
This wasn’t going well. He hadn’t expected Teena to take the lead necessarily, but he hadn’t expected her to do comparison shopping on bed linens. He took a few steps back and sat down on the nearest bed, which bore an ugly floral comforter that reminded him of his grandma’s house.
Teena flopped down next to him. “I just can’t believe it,” she said, grinning up at him even as her eyes still traveled the store. “I wonder why we survived.”
Ah. Now her lack of eye contact made sense. She was just on the lookout for other aliens. She needed comforting. He needed to make her feel safe.
“I know, but I think the captives are alive. We’re going to save them,” he said in his best tough-yet-sensitive action-movie-hero voice. He inched a little closer to her on the bed, so that his arm was extended behind her back but not yet touching her. He wasn’t sure how to go about this. He’d kissed girls at church functions before, but no one he’d felt an overwhelming need to kiss. And certainly not Teena. “And … it’s going to be okay.”
He sounded cooler than he felt. As his words slid into the air between them, their slick, silvery promise actually pulled Evan’s face toward Teena’s.
And then he kissed her.
Without even thinking about it, he’d kissed Teena McAuley. His skin fizzed, and his heart leaped into his throat, and if those sensations were too girlie to be having, then so be it. This was amazing. And she was definitely kissing him back. Was time slower or faster? One one thousand, two one-thousand. Three one—
Teena pushed him away.
“Are you kidding me?” She’d sprung up off the bed before Evan even had time to fully open his eyes again. “Why did you do that?”
Evan blinked and tried not to look at her full lips, which he still felt should be on his. Which had been on his. He hadn’t imagined it. Right?
“Because,” he said, not coming up with anything. Why would he do that? On what Earth did guys like him get anywhere with girls like Teena McAuley? Apparently, not even an Earth that might be on its way out.
Teena stared at him, still expecting an answer, which made him feel like he was disappointing her even more.
He tried to sit up straight on the bed, but the mattress had gone lumpy and saggy thanks to years of strenuous work as a display model. So he stood up instead and crossed from the bedding section to the bath, as if taking a figurative cold shower. The distance gave him perspective.
“Because, you invited me to the bedding section. Remember? All day long, you rub my arm, you whisper in my ear, and ten minutes ago, you practically dragged me away from Sarabeth and … Oh.” Now it made sense. Teena was into Leo. And Leo was into Sarabeth. So …
“This is about Leo and making him jealous.” Evan began grabbing oversized towels as Teena watched, puzzled. He’d seen a couch in the employee break room on their way in. He’d sleep there and not disturb Sarabeth and Leo. The beds here might have been more comfortable, but he wanted to be as far away from Teena as possible.
Teena stared at him, her mouth slightly open like she was simultaneously hanging on his every word and unable to believe someone like Evan would dare speak to her like he was. Empowered, he continued.
“But even if you got Leo, what, you’d be hoping that some other guy would be jealous? That is, if anyone else is still alive. Is it all a game, or do you actually give a shit about anyone besides yourself?”
He turned away from her, the load of towels heavy in his arms. Maybe there was some girl out there who’d go for a guy like him, but it clearly wasn’t Teena. Right now, he didn’t even want it to be Teena. He went in the direction of the break room, plucking his baseball bat from where it was leaning against the shelf of throw pillows.
“Wait, Evan, I’m … I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Teena called after him, her voice weak. He was tempted to look back at her, but he didn’t have the strength to handle whatever apologetic tack she’d try on him.
“Forget it,” he said, hoping she could hear the finality in his voice. “I don’t want to waste whatever time I have left on you.”