Age 15
Washing my hands,I inhale the peppermint scented soap. Mrs. Stoleman really went all out with her Christmas decorations, even the hand soap in the little bathroom is themed to the season.
Letting out a sigh, I turn off the water and dry my hands, staring into the mirror.
My reflection stares back at me. Judging me.
I don’t know why I tried so hard. I spent hours getting ready today. Hours planning my red velvet dress. My white tights. My shimmery eye shadow. My glossy red and white butterfly clips holding each small braid in place for my half ponytail. When I left the house, I thought I looked amazing. Mature. Adult.
But my lip gloss has worn off. My hair is starting to frizz – despite the layers of hair spray – and the damn crotch of these tights are sagging to my knees.
Growling, I yank my tights up one more time before giving up completely.
This was supposed to be my big debut in front of Beckett. My reveal.
My moment.
But instead of blowing him away with how grown up I’ve become; he’s barely spared me a glance.
Of course, there’s like a million freaking people here. I hadn’t expected that. I’d wrongly assumed that it was just going to be my family and his. A sort of reunion for James and Tony after their first year of college in separate schools.
Oh, how wrong I was.
Beckett did say hello when we first got here.
But that’s it. Hello.
No double take. No wide-eyed appreciation. Just Hello.
I brush my hands down the front of my dress, smoothing the wrinkles out of the fabric.
I won’t be discouraged now. Not after all this time. Not after filling notebook after notebook with our initials. Not after all the tears I cried when he left for college five years ago. Not after the tears I cried all over again when James left for college last year. My parents thought I was distraught about losing my brother, and I mean, I was sad he’d be gone, but really I was sad because with James and Tony out of town I would never get the chance to see Beckett. Maybe ever.
So when my parents told me we’d be coming to this Christmas party at the Stoleman’s, I knew this was my chance.
Squaring my shoulders, I pull open the door and step out into the noisy house.
I got this!
Except ten minutes later, here I am, sitting alone at the small breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen.
Clunking my forehead down on the table, I accept defeat.
How am I the youngest person in this entire house? Seriously, doesn’t anyone have nieces or nephews anymore? Or is the whole night a conspiracy to make it obvious that I’m still a baby?
James is busy with Tony and their group of friends from high school. Mom and Dad are chatting it up with the other parents of the neighborhood. And last time I saw Beckett he was deep in conversation with someone’s dad.
I lift my head and let it thud back down on the tabletop.
Why does Beckett have to look so freaking handsome? So freaking grownup?
His hair is shorter than the last time I saw him, and his face is showing signs of a beard. I don’t really know what a 5 o’clock shadow is, but I think what he has might qualify. And his outfit. Gah! He’s wearing these khaki pants that make his butt look super cute and this dark red button up shirt that brings out the golden color in his eyes. And if I squeeze my eyes shut really tight, I can pretend that we are dressed to match each other.
Topping off the look, and the absolute worst part, is the glass of wine in his hand. It makes him look that much more sophisticated, and is a stark reminder that he’s 23-years-old and that much further out of my league.
“Not having a good time?”
The deep voice startles me so bad, I let out a small scream as I jolt into an upright position.