Chapter Eleven
“So, where’s your mom?” Alice asked as Lauren applied a thick coat of whatever to my face.
“L.A.,” I said, as Lauren tilted my head in the desired direction.
“For how long?” Tara asked, flipping through my closet.
“A few days, a week, I don’t know,” I shrugged, receiving a disapproving glance from Lauren in response to my subtle action.
“So… you’re home alone?” she mused.
“Yeah, but she left me with her car keys,” I explained.
“Sounds fun,” Lauren commented, spreading something on my lips. “All done!” She turned my shoulders so I was facing a mirror. My face didn’t look like my face. My lips were shiny and pinker, my eyes were darker, and my face just felt… fake.
“I like it,” I lied.
“Yay!” she clapped, “I did it lighter than I would’ve preferred, but you’re skin tone makes up for it.”
“Yeah, totally,” Alice agreed.
“By the way, you did an awesome job on her hair, A,” Lauren complimented. In the past hour, I had learnt something very important about the three girls: Alice’s designated job was hair, Lauren makeup, and Tara did fashion.
Before Lauren colored on my face, Alice had taken thirty minutes to burn my hair so it was stick straight. I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like me.
“What do you guys think about this?” Tara asked, emerging from the depths of my closet with two hangers in her hand. She held up one of the garments and it was a pair of black jeans. Lauren nodded in approval, as did Alice. After noting the satisfaction, she held up the other piece of clothing: a blue shirt.
“Cute,” I said, as Tara breathed a sigh of relief with the addition of my liking.
“And the top will totally look good with your eyes,” she said, handing me the two hangers. I held them by a finger, and excused myself from my room. After entering the bathroom, I quickly changed into the outfit, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.
The shirt that had been chosen dropped lower in the back than it did the front. It was loose and short sleeved. If I were to lift my arms, my stomach would’ve been exposed. The other jeans, being the other article, were tight, but I complied with wearing them.
Upon returning to my room, a pair of shoes was in Tara’s hand, and Alice and Lauren were in a heated… debate.
“You have a lot of Lawson shoes, Liz,” Tara told me, handing me the pair. I looked at the sole, and, sure enough, they were Kit’s.
“Yeah, my mom’s kind of the, uh, president,” I said quietly.
“Who’s the president?” Lauren asked, pausing her and Alice’s argument.
“Liz’s mom,” Tara answered.
“Of what?” Alice asked.
“Lawson,” I sighed, curious as to what their reaction would be.
Whenever I revealed to friends in the past what my mother did, they neither cared, nor knew what Lawson was. But then again, they were of the male gender, and these girls most definitely were not.
“Your mom’s the president of Lawson?” Lauren almost screamed.
“Yeah,” I said calmly, “that’s why we moved to New York. Kit lives here, and it’s where the main headquarters are.”
“Kit? As in Kit Lawson? As in The Kit Lawson?” Tara questioned in awe.
“Yeah, she and her family were actually just over for dinner the other night when Eric and his family were over too,” I said, not understanding why Kit’s name was such a sacred thing.
“Kit Lawson, and Eric Wilson. Liz, you seriously need to reevaluate how incredibly amazing your life is, girl,” Lauren said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.
“Wait, you had dinner with Kit, and her family?” Tara asked in disbelief.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, making a mental note to ask my mom how big Kit’s presence was in the fashion world when she got back.
“So Trevor Lawson was in your house?” she said, looking me in the eye, as if to see whether or not I was telling the truth.
“How do you know who Trevor is?” I asked, wondering how a random girl with no real connection knew who he was oppose to someone with a background like mine, who somehow hadn’t know about his existence until a few weeks prior.
“You’re kidding, right?” Lauren said.
“I’m not, actually.”
“Trevor Lawson is one of New York’s finest party-boys. He’s an alleged player, and has a notorious reputation. He also happens to be drop-dead gorgeous and the son of Kit Lawson,” Alice informed me. Her words didn’t quite fit the Trevor Lawson I knew, but I didn’t mention it.
“He plays basketball,” I said nonchalantly.
“I know!” Tara squealed.
“So, how hot is he in person?” Lauren drooled, as I began to strap on the ridiculously high heels that Tara had picked out for me.
I shrugged, “He’s a good looking guy… I guess.”
“I heard a rumor he was at Westchester U,” Tara said.
“I can vouch for that,” I laughed. A car horn honked, indicating our ride was here. We all grabbed our bags (mine only had my phone and cash in it, though I thought it best to bring one no less), and exited my room.
“Lawson. Wow. Who would’ve ever thought that I’d have a friend who knows Kit Lawson,” Tara said, shaking her head as we passed through the hallway. I cringed at the use of the word “friend”, still not comfortable with it yet.
We left the house, and wandered onto the driveway to see a black SUV belonging to Eric.
“Hey,” Eric said, climbing out of the car, “you guys ready to go?”
“Y-yeah,” Lauren answered for us, practically drooling over him. Though it was challenging to admit, I’d be lying if I didn’t say Eric was indeed drool-worthy.
A thin, white, cotton T-shirt occupied and defined his torso in addition to dark blue jeans as bottoms. His shoes, now those were noteworthy. Even from where I was standing, I could tell they were Nikes by the signature swish on the side. They were a mixture of neon blue, black, and gray. Those shoes had some pretty mad swag.
Clothing was never my thing. Growing up with Monica Turner as a mother, I somehow picked up an eye for shoes. She would come home some nights, and show me sketches upon sketches of shoes. At age eight, I cared about stilettos almost as much as UK rugby players. She was trying to connect with me, and I acknowledged that. Eventually, I gave in. I dropped my Gameboy and looked at the drawings with her.
Heels never really caught my eye, but when she showed me some of the sneakers Kit had been planning on releasing, it resonated with me on a level hard to express. In my experience, guys have always had a strange fascination with shoes. Clothes never attracted them the way shoes did. Maybe it’s from hanging with boys, or my mother, but I like shoes.
“Come on,” Eric said, motioning for us to get into the car. Without another minute, the three of us filed into the middle and last rows of Eric’s car. The driver, Eric, and one of his friends occupied the front two seats.
“Hi, I’m Joey,” the guy I was squished next to said, placing his hand on my upper thigh.
“Liz,” I said, removing his hand.
Judging by his appearance for a moment, like seems to be the trend here, this was not the type of boy I would normally associate myself with. His hair was a wheat color, and his skin was tinted with a light pink. He looked like the type of person who the minute he went outside, burned. On his legs were pink shorts, and he wore a horizontally striped, collared T-shirt. I glanced down at his shoes, and almost groaned when I saw that they were boat shoes, most likely from that brand… uh… the one that rhymed with “Berry”. He was a prep.
“He’s on the baseball team, and a total player,” Lauren whispered next me, as she too crammed against me. I nodded, not saying a word.
“I'm Brendon,” a boy who was seated between Tara and Alice said behind me.
“Hi,” I said, turning my head to look at him. He had attire much like the guy next to me, though his skin was tanned in combination with a darker hair color.
“And I’m Alex,” a blonde guy in the front said, waving his hand at me.
“Hey,” I said, curious as to what the rest of his face looked like.
“Eric told us you’re from originally Boston,” Joey said casually.
“That’s the rumor,” I said steadily.
“He also said you were pretty cute,” Brendon added.
“Oh?” I said, looking up into the mirror in the middle of the car. Eric winked at me, and then put a pair of sunglasses on his face to shield his expression.
“I’d say he was pretty accurate,” Joey assessed. “You look hot enough to me.”
“Actually, my body temperature is just fine, thank you. But in the case that you were using the derogatory term to describe a woman’s level of attractiveness, then don’t,” I said, pursing my lips.
“Nice. So far, I’m liking you, Liz,” Alex said, twisting his torso to view me.
He had a rather innocent face. His blonde hair was paired with relatively pale skin, and his eyes were the same color as mine, though filled with mystery and excitement. The last few buttons on his shirt were undone, exposing a small amount of white cotton, in contrast to his green shirt.
“And you’re a blonde! Us dumb blondes got to stick together!” he said, smiling widely at me.
“I’m not dumb,” I said flatly.
“Neither is he,” Eric said, “but they won’t let him in any of my classes because we talk too much.”
“Oh! I remember that!” Tara said from the back. “In like sophomore year, you two wouldn’t shut up about the Jets game during some science class, and the faculty then made the decision that it would be best to separate contact between you two during the day!”
“Then my class got stuck with Alex!” Alice recalled.
“And I somehow managed to convince the teacher to partner me up with the pretty girl in the back of the class,” Alex sighed.
“So that you could annoy her to the point where she wanted to kill you,” Alice laughed.
“Good times, good times,” Alex reminisced.
“I’m still pissed at you for the time you shoved the frog in my face,” Alice pouted.
“Alice and Alex were lab partners… and dated for a year,” Lauren told me quietly, though I had been on my way to putting the pieces together on my own.
“It amused me at the time,” Alex defended.
“It wasn’t funny,” Alice said unhappily.
“Yes, it was,” Brendon said as I guessed he too would’ve been in their class.
“So, Liz, what sport does it take to make a guy hot?” the boy beside me, Joey, asked.
“Umm… I don’t really think the sport that one plays affects his or her level of attractiveness, but basketball, lacrosse, and football,” I said, lying about the last two.
“Really?” Brendon said, dragging out the “E”.
“Yeah, why?” I questioned.
“Because Alex over here just happens to play all three of those,” Joey explained.
Turning around, Alex smirked at me. “Captain of the lacrosse team, forward and co-captain for basketball, and running back in football,” he said proudly. Eric let out a cough that I assumed was covering up a laugh, and resumed driving.
“And a prep,” I added.
“Course,” he shrugged, agreeing, as I’m sure it was expected in his society.
“Eric, where are we going?” Alice asked.
“It’s a surprise,” he answered, taking a rough turn causing me to collide into Joey.
“Sorry,” I said, moving as close to Lauren as I could.
“No problem, it was Eric’s fault,” he said, brushing it off and blaming it on his friend.
“Seriously Eric, where are we going?” Alice pressed, as I detected a slight level of anxiety in her voice.
“Chill A,” Tara said, trying to be comforting.
“Well, I’ll give you a hint,” Eric said knowingly, torturing Alice. “We’re here.” He pulled up to a gravel parking lot with a sea of parked cars, and began the search for an open spot.
“Oh! I love this place!” Lauren exclaimed excitedly.
“Where are we?” I asked, staring out Lauren’s window.
“Should we tell her?” Alex questioned, turning his head to smirk at me.
“Nah,” Brendon said behind me.
“We’ll keep it a surprise for just a little longer,” Joey mused. Eric made a sharp turn and skillfully parked his monster of a car in between two trucks, making sure there was enough room for everyone to get out.
Joey immediately unbuckled his seatbelt, as did Lauren. They exited on their respective sides, and I got out on Lauren’s. Alex was standing behind me, and I noticed he was a good two inches taller than me, which probably meant he was actually super tall considering I was wearing shoes that added a good amount of artificial height.
“Yeah, I know I’m gorgeous,” Alex said, as I realized he had caught me trying to figure the height thing out.
“If that’s what you choose to believe, then so be it,” I said, smiling at him.
“It’s no belief, it’s a fact,” he said, reaching into the car to grab something. He took out a flat brimmed hat, the style I recognized instantly.
When I was younger, there were two things a boy’s wardrobe required: Jordans, and Snapbacks. I went along with the Jordans trend, because I genuinely thought they were cool, but I never altered my ways to wearing the signature hat so many of my friends wore on a daily basis. The wide rim, and snaps in the back that defined the hat didn’t appeal to me.
“What team?” I asked impulsively, not thinking before I spoke. I bit down on my lip, praying that he didn’t think too much into my inquiry.
“Sox,” he said, flashing the front of the hat at me. The emblem of a simple “B” that I knew far too well was embroidered on the middle in a red thread to the dark blue hat.
“Won’t you get shot wearing that?” I questioned, cringing at one of the unpleasant experiences I had had when attending a baseball game in New York between the Red Sox and Yankees. New Yorkers are brutal.
“Not here, babe,” he laughed, putting it on his head so it was skillfully askew to perfection.
“You’re an interesting one Mr.…” I said, searching for a last name.
“Campbell. Alex Campbell,” he filled in, as we followed the others to the destination that was still unidentified to me.