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Ike uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth before returning and searching for his jeans.
“They gave Rie’s hippie boyfriend trouble, at first. But the family backed down when she wouldn’t give him up.”
Ike flops next to me in bed and smiles warmly.
“Once they get over their shock, they’ll warm up to you really quick. How can they not sympathize with your need to get away from the Trinity weirdoes?”
Trying not to pout, I ask, “Is that how you see me?”
“I see you as a chick yearning to break free from her repressive shackles. Now, you have a chance to build a better life with a hot guy who loves you.”
Sitting up in bed, I admire how healthy and effortlessly cool Ike is, even after only five minutes up. I push my excessively long hair away from my face and try to seem sexy.
Before Ike can kiss me, I remember my breath and flinch away. “Let me get fixed up like you did.”
Ike opens his mouth to complain before stopping himself and smiling.
“Whatever works for you. I’ll just wait here and think about what we’ll accomplish today.”
I hurry to the bathroom, do what I can with my appearance, and rush back to bed.
“Can I get a haircut?” I ask as I crawl into bed and immediately get overwhelmed by all my loose hair.
“Of course, but you should wait on that.”
“Do you like it long?”
Ike runs his fingers through my long hair. “At those lady salons, you need to ask for exactly what you want. I’ve witnessed what happens if you don’t take control of the haircutting process.”
“Can I have a haircut like those women in The Runaways?”
“I don’t know how to ask for that. Maybe if we have a picture,” he says and then smiles and tugs me against him. “Or you can wait a few days until my cousin Tuesday is your new bestie. She’s got style. It’s not always good, but it’s usually memorable. Tuesday will know how to ask for what you want.”
“Are you sure she’ll help me?”
“Oh, yeah. She was giving me advice yesterday.”
“When?”
“We were texting on my phone.”
My finger traces a black tattoo on his shoulder. “Will she teach me how to use makeup?”
“Of course.”
“What if I pick a weird haircut and wear too much eyeshadow?”
Ike frowns. “Is that a trick question? Or a religious thing where women with weird haircuts and too much eyeshadow are declared witches?”
Snickering, I shake my head. “I’m worried you’ll find me less attractive.”
Ike studies me as his fingers dance across my hip. “You’ve been taught the superficial stuff matters most. But it’s not true. You can change your appearance every year, and you’ll still be my dream girl.”
His words help cement our new situation. No one’s ever truly liked me unconditionally before. That’s why I keep expecting Ike to get angry at what I say or do.
Except Ike Mooney isn’t a petty kind of person. To claim me, he defied his family. I just need to hold on to him and let myself go wild.
