The little voices, the ones that always made me imagine the worst of my family and friends, have returned to taunt me, to tell me I made a mistake by being honest. They tell me I’m a fraud and a liar and never should’ve opened my mouth.
But unlike weeks, maybe even just days, ago, I don’t let these voices faze me. I know what they are: an accumulation of every questionable joke made by Sammie, every hateful comment made by people like Jeremiah, every expectation of Mom’s, every assumption of Dad’s, every judgment of Lindsay’s, everything that made me so scared to admit how I felt about Talia.
So, frankly, those voices can go fuck themselves.
I unbutton my pajama top and drop my shorts, unearthing my dress carefully from my garment bag. I shimmy into the fabric, pulling the shoulders over my arms and zipping up the back as high as I can at this angle.
It’s lilac, adorned with tiny pearl-centered tulle flowers all across the skirt and a thick ribbon belt to give my boxy frame some shape. Mom said the V-neckline complements my collarbones, which is a nice way of saying it shows off my nonexistent boobs. I always imagined myself in something pink, light and rosy, or white with those massive, almost cartoonish, watercolor flowers across the skirt, but this dress just spoke to me. I felt a bit like a fairy princess the first time I tried it on, like the type of girl who’d never be lacking in suitors.
“Mom!” I shout as I adjust the neckline in the mirror and puff out some of the tulle flowers. “Can you come zip me up?”
Almost immediately, she knocks on my door. “Come in!” I lean into my reflection and wipe away some smudged lip gloss. But when I turn around to show Mom the big reveal, I’m the one left surprised.
“Your mom let me in,” Talia says. She looks scared, but I can’t dwell on my guilt because I’m too busy trying to catch my breath.
Her hair is slicked back against her scalp, gathered in a thick ponytail at the base of her neck that her curls explode out of. Her lips are painted crimson, the same color as the suit I heard Dani bitch so much about. I can see now why she hated it so much. Wearing it, Talia may just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
It takes all my willpower to look away from where the black top beneath her suit hugs her every curve and dip. But not before I notice the brooch pinned to her jacket’s lapel. The ruby rose looks stunning, tying the outfit together in a way that makes it impossible to imagine her without it.
“Hi,” I say, voice small.
“Hi,” she replies, smiling softly. “I hope it’s okay I came up here. I wanted to talk to you before everyone else came.” Her voice is scratchier than usual, lingering effects of her cold, I assume. It makes it harder to focus on her words.
“You look beautiful,” I say without thinking.
She either doesn’t notice my eyes beginning to water and hands beginning to shake or pretends not to for both our sakes. “Thank you. You do too.”
“Is Zaq downstairs?” I ask, immediately regretting the way my voice catches.
“He’s meeting me here,” she says, clearly hesitant, rocking back and forth on her feet in my doorway. “Our parents wanted to take photos of us together, so we figured it would be easier this way.”
I swallow. “Both your parents?”
She nods, a bigger smile creeping across her beautiful, bloody lips. I want to reach out and touch them, see if my fingers will come away stained. I fight the temptation, but not the thought.
“I told my dad about Zaq and me yesterday,” she says, still standing awkwardly across the room. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mom and Dad were down the hall eavesdropping. “I was tired of hiding it from him and knew if he reacted poorly, at least I’d only have to deal with it until I left for school. But he actually took it really well, and it even got us talking more candidly about everything surrounding my sexuality and Dani and Eliana. He’s going to try to be there for me more.” Her grin tears at my heart. “Zaq told his parents too, but they already had their suspicions. And we told Wesley together this morning, but it seems he already heard about it from a little birdy.”
I flush guiltily. “In my defense, he’s a much bigger gossip than we’ve ever given him credit for.”
The tension in her shoulders melts as she shakes with a laugh. “Fair enough. We probably should’ve told him ourselves weeks ago, but—”
“But it wasn’t anyone’s business.” I touch the undone zipper at my back. “Do you mind?” I ask, turning so she can see it. She shuts the door behind her and steps forward. Her cold hands and long nails graze my back. I watch her in the mirror, her tongue sticking out as she focuses. “Talia, I’m sorry.”
“Like I said, we should’ve told him our—”
“No,” I cut her off. She meets my eyes in the mirror, hands stilling behind me. “Not for telling Wes, although I am sorry about that.” I take a deep breath, and then quickly exhale so I don’t make her task more difficult. “I’m sorry I shut you out for not liking me back and for having a boyfriend, and that I made that night with Eliana all about my problems. I threw away our whole friendship after I kissed you. I’m also sorry about kissing you without asking; being a girl doesn’t make it okay. I was wrong for it, all of it. I’m just so sorry.” By the time I finish, I’m shaking and Talia’s hands have gone from my back to my chest, hugging me from behind. She shushes me softly, coaxing me out of my tears before I ruin my makeup.
“Thank you,” she says, letting go. I face her, composing myself and brushing away the remaining tears. “I could’ve told you about Zaq sooner. I spent so long convincing myself it would be okay to date a girl, no matter what my family said, that I think I felt guilty for dating a boy.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation. Your sexuality is about your attraction, not who you’re dating at any given moment,” I say, doing my best Wesley impersonation. “I shouldn’t have made mine all about you.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for you. I’ve always been bad at telling when people like me, and it’s even harder with girls. I was just so excited about having a girl best friend again. I think it kept me from seeing things the way you were,” she says, the words pinching my heart. “I’m just so sorry.”
I feel myself unravel inside, a puddle of a person gathered in the hands of the girl she finally let herself love, even if the timing and feelings were off.
“You don’t have to apologize. Not at all.” I step back a little because proximity is still too difficult with the wound of rejection this tender. She looks so beautiful, smells so lovely. And I cannot touch her. “I’m going to work on me for a bit. I think I’ll be okay.”
“So no more crushes?” Talia teases, and I half laugh, half sob. She moves to finish zipping me up, hands working much faster now that we’ve cleared the air.