“Okay, okay, okay.” She paced the shaggy carpet of her room while I sat cross-legged in front of her. “This is definitely the kind of thing that people dress up for. You know, social media photo ops and all. So, it’s nice out, but it’s gonna get dark, and it’s still that time of year where the temperature drops when the sun goes down, so we’ll need layers but ones that look like they’re part of the outfit.”
Nikki walked to her closet and shuffled through things, and the sound of the hangers scraping across the tension rod gave me goose bumps.
“You run a lot colder than I do,” I told her. “I don’t need layers.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but if I was going to be standing around Brooklyn all night, I could spontaneously combust at any given moment.
Nikki poked her head out of the closet. “Does he have cute friends?”
“I believe he hasafriend. No idea what he looks like.”
Nikki threw a pair of navy-and-white-plaid, boxer-looking shorts at me. “These are cute. You should wear them with one of your dozen librarian button-down shirts.”
I scoffed. “They’re notlibrarianshirts, they’re very practical and they go with everything.”
“Exactly, including those.” She nodded to the shorts I’d picked up to study.
“These look like old-school men’s boxers.”
“They’re very trendy.” Nikki waved me off. “And will look great withyourstallion legs.”
I knew what my sister knew better than I did—like trendy fashion choices. So I steamed a white button-down shirt from Gap, threw on a pair of Vans, and quickly tied my hair into a braid. When I went back to her room, Nikki had pulled on a pair of purple-and-pink-checkered pants and a baby tee with an eight ball printed on it. Her clothes were really beginning to fit her again, and I didn’t realize how much something so seemingly simple would matter. I smiled at her, and when she noticed, she shot me a suspicious look.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “I like your pants.”
Nikki eagerly stuck one of her legs out for show. “Yeah? They’re so old.”
“And they look great, so please don’t do the thing you do where you change fifteen times right when we’re supposed to leave, because he’s going to be here in five minutes.”
“I won’t, I won’t.” She held up her hands in surrender. “Same goes for you. I told you those shorts were cute.”
“They still look like boxers.” I pulled at the hem. “But I digress. I’m comfortable andsomewhatfashionable.”
“That’s the spirit!”
We both said goodbye to Gracie—who was much more cognizant and aware now that she wasn’t doped up on Acepromazine (which, we learned, wasnotsomething Borzois should be taking), and as we made it downstairs, Brooklyn pulled up in his topless, doorless Jeep. Stella sat in the back with a guy I didn’t recognize, meaning they’d left the front seat open for me, a small gesture that I unfortunately could not stop myself from reading into. The front seat was a thing reserved for the significant other of whoever was driving.
“Confirmed, friendiscute,” Nikki whispered through her teeth as we walked down the porch steps.
Cute friend, with floppy dark hair and a strong jawline that didn’t seem to match his rather small stature, was introduced as Alec—Brooklyn’s close (and seemingly only) friend he’d mentioned in passing a few times. When I lifted myself into the passenger seat, Brooklyn silently handed me the aux cord. It took a certain level of trust with someone to let them playtheirmusic inyourcar, and the thought that he had that trust in me made my insides feel all warm and staticky.
“Cute pants,” Stella said to Nikki as she slid into the middle seat.
“Oh, thanks, I actually got them at Goodwill.”
“Love a good thrift,” Stella continued. “I got a vintage Miu Miu pashmina last year at Reinvented downtown.”
“No way.”
“This conversation is officially in a foreign language,” I leaned over and whispered to Brooklyn, and he snickered in response.
In the rearview mirror I saw the three of them squished together, their knees and shoulders rubbing against each other with every dip and turn Brooklyn took; far too close to be comfortable, and yet Nikki smiled the whole car ride.
The fair was already crowded even though dusk had started to creep into the sky. The setup took over the entire parking lot of the old convention center that bumped up against the harbor, with everything from a Ferris wheel and the Gravitron ride to cotton candy and popcorn machines spanning every free corner of the parking lot.
“You know, one time Brooklyn rode that thing upside down,” Alec, who’d naively wedged himself between us, mentioned offhandedly as he pointed to the Gravitron.
