We sit in silence until Juniper returns, the quiet broken only by the soft thumps and thuds of Caroline hunting for a pair of heels on the closet floor. She sets them neatly on the bed when she locates a pair she likes, turning just in time to see Juniper re-enter the room.
And I guess I was wrong about nothing of Caroline’s fitting her.
“As I suspected would be the case,” my sister says, her eyes on my pink-haired roommate, “that outfit looks much better on you than it ever did on me.”
I can only assume this is the truth.
I’m feeling pretty irritable toward myself all of a sudden. In the past I’ve sort of appreciated the weird way attraction works for me; I’m literally incapable of being attracted to women I don’t at least findinteresting. That’s why the Betties do nothing for me. Betty One and Betty Two areobjectively pretty, I can tell that much, but I have never once felt actual attraction toward them. I think even if either of them hugged me or kissed me, I would feel nothing, despite the direct physical contact. It’s just how my body and my mind work.
And it seems the opposite is also true. Because even though Juniper Bean isnottouching me right now, even though she’s just standing in front of my sister’s mirror, my pulse jumps whenever I look at her. I feel wired, full of adrenaline, and it’s only getting worse.
If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been intrigued by her from day one. It’s probably why the way she looked in that ribbon dress had me loosening my tie, noticing twinges of feelings that were normally absent.
“All right,” she says, turning away from the mirror and toward where Caroline and I are now seated on the bed. Caroline passes her the heels, which she steps into. “How do I look?”
“Weird,” I mutter, rubbing my chest. It’s an incredibly strange, disconcerting feeling, being attracted to someone who’s wearing my sister’s clothes. Not quite as bad as being set up on a blind date with her, but…still not great.
“Ignore him,” Caroline says, shooting me a disapproving glare. “You don’t look weird. You look perfect. Very classy.”
Juniper runs her hands over the outfit—tailored pants that fit surprisingly well; a silky, low-cut blouse; and a fitted blazer. She somehow looks both sexy and professional, and my lungs can’t quite seem to reach capacity, my breath shallow in my chest. If anything, the pink hair seems to magnify the effect; it speaks to the parts of her personality that I’m most attracted to.
“You’re not allowed to call me weird,” she says, tucking some of that hair behind her ear and frowning at me. “I’m your wife. We have become Aidiper. We have a beautiful daughter?—”
“For the love,” I say, standing up quickly.
“I look good. I look fancy. Be supportive, please,” she goes on.
I exhale slowly, closing my eyes. “You look fancy,” I say. “Now you should go before my family hunts you down and subjects you to an inquisition.”
“This is perfect,” Juniper says. “Thank you so much.” At first I think she’s talking to me, but when I open my eyes, it’s Caroline she’s addressing. “I really appreciate your help. I’ll bring these back?—”
“Oh, don’t bother,” Caroline says, waving her hand. “I’ll never fit those clothes again. You keep them.”
“But your fashion?—”
“Keep them, Juniper,” Caroline says with a smile.
Juniper bites her lip, looking down at the outfit. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
Juniper returns her smile with pink cheeks and then says, “If you insist. Thank you, Caroline.”
Ugh. I think this is turning into one of thoseYou hang up first! No, you!situations. They’re going to sit here and thank each other and say goodbye for the next twenty minutes.
I don’t have that kind of patience, and I definitely don’t want my parents to wander back this direction and begin questioning Juniper. She didn’t sign up for that today, and my mother’s respect for boundaries is about as negligible as Juniper’s herself. “Let’s go,” I say to her.
“Rude,” she mutters, wrinkling her nose at me. But she returns to the bathroom across the hall, emerging a few moments later with her original outfit back on, Caroline’s clothes draped over one arm. She follows me out of Caroline’s bedroom, down the hall, and to the front door. My sister brings up the rear, smiling cheerfully and wishing us luck when we step outside. I glance at the dining roomtable, where my parents, Jeff, and the girls are all watching with interest, their plates empty in front of them.
“You’re thinking hard about something,” Juniper says when the front door closes behind us.
Am I that obvious? “How could you tell?” I say, more curious than anything.
Juniper reaches up and touches my forehead. “There’s this little v-shaped crease you get right here. So what is it?”
“Ah,” I say with a sigh. “Nothing. Or I guess—I’m just thinking about the food fight my students had the other day.”
Juniper raises her eyebrows at me, something I only barely see because of the wind whipping her hair around her face.
