Nothing like a guy asking you out by playing a song with your OG crush’s voice.Of course I’ll go with you!I’d enthused, taking his hand and... grabbing his phone out of it so I could forcefully shut off Spotify.
The song played at prom anyway.
Twice.
“Wow,” Jake said, watching me. “You must really hate that song.”
“I don’t.” It’s the opposite.
“Then why are you making that face?”
“I’m not making a face.” I turned to the mirror, inspecting my reflection.
“Yeah, you are. Like a cat right before it hacks up a hair ball.”
“People have got to stop saying that. It’s weirdly specific.”
“Wait, someone besides me said it?”
I pretended I didn’t hear him and made a show of trying on a leopard faux fur coat instead of the Carmen Sandiego one. Maybe I could actually pull it off. It said,I am edgy and eccentrically stylish and am not bothered with trying to figure out how to answer these little questions of yours.
And also,I am perfectly okay with looking like a walking Build-a-Bear.
“All right, sorry I mentionedThe Face,” Jake said. I thought that’d be it, but then he continued, “So you broke up with Ryan after prom?”
I frowned, blindsided by the sudden question. “Yeah? I’m not sure I counted it as a real breakup, though. Or him as a real boyfriend. We only went on a few dates.”
“What happened?”
“He’s leaving for college. So am I. I don’t really do long-distance.” I glanced over at Jake. “I don’t exactly have a good track record with staying in touch.”
Jake looked stricken for a moment, but to his credit, he didn’t avoid my gaze or flinch like a coward.
I cleared my throat, not wanting to stay on the topic. “Did you find everything you need?”
“Yeah, I found a couple shirts, a jean jacket, and some other stuff. It should last me the whole time I’m here since I’m not staying very long.”
Right. The week would be over before I knew it, then I’d probably never talk to him again.
Jake gestured back to the dressing room. “I’m going to change back so I can take everything to the register.”
He disappeared inside the dressing room again. A minute later, a brunette came up next to me, holding an armful of clothes, and pointed to the door. “Are you in line?”
“Oh, no, you can go next, I’m just waiting for my friend while he changes.” I glanced down at the pieces she’d chosen. “That black dress is really cute. Very vintage. You’ll look just like Audrey Hepburn.”
“Thanks.” She beamed at me before glancing around at the fairly empty store. “Hey, is the friend you’re waiting for the guy who tried on the leather jacket?” I nodded, forcing myself to keep my face neutral, finding it funny she assumed Jake was trying on the jacket, not that he already owned it. “He helped me get a hat off one of the higher racks like ten minutes ago. You should tell him to buy the jacket.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “It makes him look a little bit like that one Usual Suspects guy. The mysterious one.”
My heart sped up.
“You know,” she continued, completely oblivious to the way her comment put me on high alert, “the J-name one.”
I scanned her face, looking for a wink, or a sign she was trying to get information out of me, but none came. It seemed to simply be a compliment, like when I told her she’d look like Audrey in her outfit.
I was beginning to see what Jake meant when he told me that even if people think someone might look like a celebrity, mostdon’t believe it’s actually them. After all, what would a singer like Jake Moody be doing in athrift storein some unimportant town?
