AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We should’ve had someone record that,” I said for the third time, my face hurting from smiling so much. The tears from laughing onstage had no doubt smudged my makeup, but I didn’t even care. “It could’ve gone viral. ‘Is the indie band lead singer actually terrible?’”
Harry laughed, and it ebbed into his voice. “No, no. ‘He should rethink his career; it’s never too late to become a mime.’”
I pressed a hand over my mouth to keep an ugly laugh from coming out.
“You have a great voice,” he went on, sobering a bit, but the sunny smile still lingered. “Beautiful. You keep surprising me in the best way.”
“I was a train wreck,” I argued, covering my warm cheeks with my fingers. “A complete train wreck. What time is it? Humiliation o’clock?”
“Ah, close. The clock on the wall by Vincent’s head says five minutes after six.”
Immediately, my amusement faded, and I let out a soft sigh, dropping my hands to the tabletop. “I should get going soon. My family’s expecting me for dinner.”
Harry reached out and touched my fingers. “I like hanging out with you, Stella,” he said softly, gaze falling to our hands. “I really like hanging out with you.”
For the first time, I felt a flutter of unease. Not at his words—my insides did a happy dance at them—but at the fact that I kept Destelle a secret from him. “Listen, I—”
“‘I think you’re cool, but that karaoke was a total deal-breaker for me’?” he guessed.
“No.” I chuckled, curling my fingers around his to pinch them. “I like hanging out with you too.”
That caused a boyish smile to flit across his features, one that felt like a stab of happiness to my heart.So cute. “Saturday,” he said then, pulling his hands back. “I’m busy in the morning, but we could do something before the gig. Or after—maybe go to Downtown?”
“I’ll let you know,” I promised while pushing out of the booth, because both options definitely sounded enticing. It depended on what kind of alibi I could come up with. And if it meant spending more time with Harry, I’d definitely scour the earth for an excuse.
“I can’t believe you went on three dates with him,” Margot told me Friday after school, her voice slightly muffled by the dressing room door of her favorite store, Gilfman Clothier. She’d been in there for a while, but it was understandable—it took time to put on a five-piece suit. “And youstillhaven’t kissed him.”
“Three dates?” I slouched deeper in my chair. “When was the third?”
Margot opened her door enough to stick out a bony hand, one finger raised. “Dancing at the club.” Two fingers. “Dial and Dine.” Three fingers. “Embarrassing karaoke. Can’t you count?”
“I wouldn’t have counted dancing at Downtown.” I sighed, glancing around the store. Gilfman stores were typically sparse in terms of decor, and this one wasn’t an exception. Every surface was a stark white—the tiled floors, the wallpaper, the white countertops. The only pops of color were the monotone suits hanging on the racks, mostly there for decoration. “It’s not like wechoseto do that together. Or, I mean,wentthere together. Whatever.”
This time, Margot stuck her face around the door, eyebrows pulled together. “Why’d you sigh?”
“He said he enjoys hanging out with me, Margot.Me. But Stella isn’t me—I’m Destelle.”
With an eye roll, she disappeared back into the dressing room. “Listen, crazypants. YouareStella. Who’s the person who puts on the wig? You’re literally just Destelle in a wig.”
“It’s different. It feels like I’m an actress playing a character. Like, I may pretend to be her, but I’m not.”
After a second, the dressing room door swung inward and Margot strutted out. The white-and-black-striped suit fit her perfectly in some areas but was too baggy in others. Her pants were way too long and covered her toes. The vest hugged her stomach in a flattering way, but the caps of the jacket were a smidge too large.
Margot looked at herself in the mirror, angling her body to see how the fabric stretched. “It’s so close. Just needs to be a little tighter.” And then she turned to me. “Youareher. You need to get over whatever kind of mind divide you have about it because it’s not as crazy as you make it seem.”
“It feels weird being with him when he doesn’t know.” Like my intention was to trick him or something. Maybe he enjoyed hanging out with Stella only because they were so similar. What if he saw Destelle and got freaked out by her Claire-Haute and designer boots?
“How about this?” Margot went back to admiring her suit. “Worry about all thisafteryou kiss him. He could be a disgusting kisser, and then you’d be upset you let him in on your secret. So sit on it.”
I frowned a little, wanting to point out that Harry being a disgusting kisser would be next to impossible. He evenlookedlike the kind of guy who could kiss well. He definitely knew how to move his body when we danced at Downtown.
And now I was thinking of his hands on me, thinking about kissing him, and my face went up in flames.
Margot lifted her hand to signal one of the salesmen, who came over quickly. He was tall and stupidly handsome, his facial hair trimmed and cleanly cut. “Ooh,” he murmured in a low voice, immediately catching the problem. “Oh, the shoulder pads are a bit too big, aren’t they? We typically hem the pants once they’re on, as you know, so that’s not a major concern.” He withdrew a measuring tape from his interior pocket, but as he did so, he spotted me. “Oh, dear, do you need water? Your face is quite red.”
“She’s having an existential crisis,” Margot said flippantly. “Ignore her.”
Ha.
