I'll Make You Mine Page 4

  Because you fart in your sleep. “He wasn’t into a relationship, that’s all. And I didn’t fill his head with your plans. But I couldn’t lie to him when he asked, either.”

  “Well, since the trip to the adult store was a complete waste of time, I still have to go find a killer dress for tonight. That means you’re coming to the mall with me.”

  I hate shopping. Let me rephrase that, I loathe shopping with Keely. Everything she tries on looks tailored for her body, which means she takes forever to decide. Once she finds her perfect outfit, I always get stuck trying on the rejects that didn’t make her look hot enough. None of which are my style. Where she has no problem showing skin, I’m the complete opposite, trying to cover up as much as I can.

  “Keely, I can’t tonight. I have a lot of homework.” Plus one shopping trip a day is my limit.

  She snorts into the receiver. “It’s Friday, love. That shit can wait until Sunday night. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. Oh, and be out front. The new guy at the reception desk gives me the creeps.”

  She’s not exaggerating. Clark is even more socially awkward than I am. “Fine, but two shopping trips in one day means you owe me.”

  “We’ll see about that. If I remember correctly, you owe me after getting my boyfriend to break up with me.”

  “I didn’t, Keely. I swear.” I had nothing to do with Dylan’s decision, but I still feel guilty. “And let’s get one thing straight before we get to the mall. I don’t care how hot you think it looks, how cheap it is, or how much you want me to have it. I’m not trying on clothes. Got it?”

  “I can’t make any promises. See you in ten.”

  She hangs up before I can argue. Even though Keely drives me crazy and stresses me out, she’s still my sister. Without her, I’d be even more of a loner than I already am—well, if you don’t count the time I spend with Dylan. He’s easy to talk to. If everyone was like him, life would be so much easier.

  I yank my puffy coat out of the closet and slide my arms back in the sleeves.

  It’s a good thing she’s picking me up out front because Clark’s sitting at the front desk eating broccoli again, the smell wafting all the way up the stairs.

  “Zoe, wait!” he says with his fork halfway to his mouth.

  With my hands on the door, I stop, wishing I could pretend I didn’t hear him. “What’s up, Clark?”

  “This came for you a couple minutes ago. I planned on calling your room after I finished my snack.”

  The box is small and I unwrap it like a kid on Christmas morning. When I pull the lid off, I find two tickets to the physician lecture I wanted to go to. There’s no name attached to the gift, but it’s obvious who the tickets are from. He’s the only one who listens when I ramble about the medical world.

  With the tickets tucked safely in my purse, I push through the lobby doors. Once I’m outside, I type out a message.

  Zoe: Thank you for the tickets. But why?

  Dylan: Just because.

  Zoe: Keely isn’t upset with me, you didn’t have to.

  Dylan: Yes, I did.

  Zoe: Why?

  Dylan: Don’t worry about it. It’s not the only surprise I have for you.

  “Will you stop smiling like a loon and get in the car!” Keely yells out the passenger-side window.

  My sister knows how to ruin a nice moment. “I’m coming.”

  Before my door is fully closed, Keely’s already pulling away from the curb. “Operation Get Laid is in full effect,” she says as she steps on the gas and races through the parking lot.

  “Dad will kill you if you get another speeding ticket. This car is still in his name.”

  “Half in his name,” she reminds me as she drives even faster. “Did I mention Chaz is visiting this weekend?”

  “Not interested, Keely.”

  She’s been throwing her pain-in-the-ass friend at me every chance she gets.

  They worked together for two summers at the community pool, and every time he’s in the area she invites him to visit, knowing full well he’s no different from the last time I saw him. Not once has Chaz ever been appealing.

  “Oh, come on, it won’t kill you to be in the same room as him tonight. Hang out a little. Have a drink or two. Maybe some dancing. That thing you do to music—not to be confused with sex.”

  “No, absolutely not. I agreed to shop, that’s it.” She won’t persuade me this time. There’s no way I’m breathing the same air as Chaz Hennington.

  “Why are you always so anti-fun?” she whines.

  “I’m anti-Chaz, there’s a difference.”

  “You’re impossible, Zoe.”

  “If you like him so much, date him! I’m not interested.” Never have been. Never will be. Whoever I date has to be able to count higher than his IQ.

  “He likes you, Zoe. For reasons I’ll never understand. You two are like ketchup and mustard.”

  “Ketchup and mustard? What does that even mean?”

  She waves her hand in the air and then changes the station on the radio, turning the volume up loud enough to make me cringe. “Oh, I dunno. It’s just an analogy.”

  One that makes no sense. “If Chaz likes me, he likes you, too. Isn’t that what you said this morning about Dylan picturing us both naked?”

  “That’s ridiculous. Chaz and I made out once or twice during our lifeguarding days, but I’d hardly count any of that.” She pulls into the mall parking lot, saving us from driving all the way to the outlets.

  “You made out with him? Who haven’t you made out with?” I mumble under my breath.

  “What was that? Jealousy?” she says with a smile on her face.

  “Nothing.”

  After she pulls the keys out of the ignition, she turns to face me. In a much softer tone, she says, “This is what I was talking about at the store. Live a little, Zoe. Go out with a bang and end college on a high note. One we’ll never forget.”

  “Keely, I am living. School is fun for me. I don’t need all the background noise to make it better.”

  When she leans her head against the seat, she closes her eyes and I see how much my response pains her. I’m missing the point, that’s what she’ll tell me. I’m always missing one thing or another. Maybe someday I’ll get it right and she’ll treat me like an equal instead of the lesser twin.

  “Zo, it’s bad enough you’re a senior living in those horrible dorms. How do you expect to meet a guy when you’re surrounded by little boys? We have a pact, remember?”

  “I remember, and I said I would try to find a guy. But I’m living in the dorms because living with you was like living in a frat house. I’m well aware that it’s not an ideal arrangement.”

  “Again, revisit my earlier statement. This is college.”

  How many times is she going to give me the same speech? Why can’t she accept me for who I am? Dylan does. “Can we focus on your outfit and less on my non-existent love life?”

  “Yes, but Chaz still gets my vote. You need a fling. And you agree he’s all wrong for you, so that means he fits the job description.”

  “Anyone but Chaz. Please, Keely. If his head gets any bigger, he won’t even fit through the door. He’s obsessed with himself.”

  “And you. He’s crazy about all things Zoe Allen.”

  Before she can say another word, I open my door and climb out of the car. She follows, hurrying to catch up. “I’ll let you think it over, Zo, but it’d be nice if you could help entertain Chaz while he’s here. There’s this guy I’ve had my eye on for like a month. I need to make it happen tonight before he loses interest.”

  She can’t be serious. “A month? But you were with Dylan the past two weeks.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m sure Dylan’s been checking out other people, too. It’s human nature.”

  He hasn’t been. When Dylan likes someone, he’s not the type to have a wandering eye. I kind of hate my sister for making it sound like he’s not loyal and trusting.

  But there’s no
time to tell her what I think because like a moth to a flame, she picks up the pace once she spots her favorite store. “Don’t you love this, Zo?” Keely holds up a dress that looks like a bandage I’d wrap around a sprained ankle.

  “No, but I’m sure it’ll look nice on you.” Everything looks nice on her. She has the bigger boobs.

  She glances at it another time before putting it back on the rack. I let her browse the rest of the dresses, helping her carry all the ones she wants to try on, without saying a negative word about any of them. It’s gotta be a record.

  There are twice as many hangers as usual and my arms are aching by the time we find a fitting room. I expect her to take a handful and lighten the load, but she doesn’t. She pushes me inside the small room and closes the door behind me. I stand staring into the mirror, pissed that I fell right into her trap.

  “Keely, I said I didn’t want to try any clothes on.”

  “Do it for me, Zoe. You’re already in there with all those dresses. It can’t hurt to put a couple on, right? Plus, I need my partner in crime tonight.”

  “I wouldn’t consider us criminals.” Although, some of the guys she’s attracted to could have done time.

  “It would be a crime for you to pass up the black dress on top of the pile.”

  The black dress is a size smaller than I wear and won’t keep half of my chest where it belongs, smaller boobs or not. “It won’t fit, Keely.”

  She tosses something else over the dividing wall of the dressing room and it lands on my head. “Put that on first.”

  Once I grab the tiny plastic hanger and pull it off my head, I’m left staring at a giant piece of flesh-colored elastic. I’m positive it’s a torture device in a foreign country. “What is this thing?”

  “It’s shapewear. All the stars use it. You’ll slide right into that dress, no problem. Trust me.”

  Trusting her is the problem. I trusted her to leave me alone today. Yet I’ve rummaged through an adult store and now here I am, trying to wiggle my ass into the meanest spandex I’ve ever met. “Don’t they make a bigger size? I can’t breathe.”

  “Breathing isn’t important. And don’t you dare take off the dress until I see you in it!”

  The dress? I can’t fit into the shapewear. “The material is ripping my skin off.”

  With my back pressed against the wall, I stop long enough to catch my breath. That’s when I see the tip of her shoe tapping in front of my door. “Why aren’t you trying anything on?”

  “Because, you’ll run.”

  “Run? I can’t even waddle in the damn thing. You’re sure it’s safe?”

  “Grab a handful and pull it up,” she says in her most determined voice.

  There’s no chance of me running or fully standing because I can only get the shapewear to my thighs before I lose my balance and fall against the mirror, my cheek smooshing against the cool glass. “This isn’t going to work. I can’t get it up.”

  “Shit, I hate when that happens. Just keep trying.”

  “Why do I feel like we’re not talking about the same thing anymore?” I ask her around a strangled groan.

  “We will be if I ever get you laid. Now, suck it in and take it like a woman.”

  I listen to her advice, standing tall and pulling it up and over my hips. My arms barely make it in the straps before it’s so snug against my body I feel like there’s a brick on my chest. The two boobs I came in with are now one giant uni-boob. It’s like when robbers wear nylons over their faces, smashing their features into an unrecognizable mess.

  “Should it hurt to breathe, Keely?”

  “If you’re doing it right, yes.”

  “I’m nailing it then.” I’m positive if I can wiggle it a little further up my thighs, I’ll have more room at the top, but the second I try to shimmy, the cardboard tag assaults me in the most unlikely of places. “Ohmigod.”

  I must have it on inside out.

  Keely pulls the door open, letting herself inside without asking. “What’s the problem? Put the dress over top and you’ll look like a million bucks—and skinny.”

  Too afraid to take a step in any direction, I hold my arms up, letting her dress me like a child. She yanks the equally tight fabric over my curves until the dress is hugging my thighs and depriving me of oxygen. “I still can’t breathe.”

  She claps her hands, standing back a little to get the full view. “You are fuckable, Zoe. Chaz will lose his mind.”

  “If this is for Chaz, no way. I’d never put myself through this kind of pain for a guy like him.”

  She narrows her eyes. “But you would for someone else? What are you hiding, Zoe?”

  “Nothing, I couldn’t hide a Tic-Tac in this thing. I feel hideous.”

  She pulls my arms away from my sides and forces me in front of the mirror again. “Not hideous. More like you have a stick up your ass.”

  “It’s cardboard.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but if you don’t like this dress, try another. One of them will make you happy.”

  I can’t do this.

  Shapewear and tight dresses aren’t me. I’m a jeans and sweater kind of girl, and I like who I am and how I dress. “No more. I’m done. I’ll go to your party, but I’ll wear something of my own, or I’m not coming.”

  Maybe this was her plan. Dress me in the most uncomfortable thing in the store so I’m forced to compromise and end up at the party. Huffing, she shakes her head. “Why is being a girl so hard for you?”

  “Because you can’t dress me up like a doll. I’m a human being, Keely.”

  “A cranky one.”

  I shuffle closer so I don’t have to say this louder than necessary. “Listen. The tag is poking me. One wrong move and I’ll need a colonoscopy. So, I suggest you get this hooker dress off my body before I rip it off and make you pay for it. I’m positive all your beer money will be spent!”

  With wide eyes, she gasps. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  I’ve never seen Keely move as fast as she does when she pulls the dress over my head, tosses it on the chair, and runs out of the dressing room like a woman on fire. She’s lucky I’m a nice sister because the thoughts tumbling around in my mind are downright evil.

  Dylan

  “Zo, you here?” I tap my knuckles against her partially open door. She doesn’t answer, so I push the door open a little further, wondering if she fell asleep.

  I spot her lying in bed with one of her pillows over her face. From the sound of her muffled growls, she’s not having a good day.

  Careful not to scare her, I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for her to finish her fit.

  When she comes up for air, she screams and scrambles so fast, she falls out of bed. “Dylan, shit. How long have you been sitting there?” she asks as she rubs her head, making her hair full of static.

  “Long enough to know you’re not okay.” Now that I can see her face, her lids are puffy and her eyes are red. I hate when she cries all alone. “Is your head okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she says as I help her off the floor.

  Zoe’s independent, always has been, and she can handle just about anything, including her pushy sister. For her to be reduced to tears, something bad must have happened.

  I’m reminded of the first time I found her crying—the day her mom died. We were barely sixteen years old, and that day changed everything.

  Zoe sat in the corner of her room, surrounded by her mom’s favorite blanket. She curled into a tighter ball and sobbed into the quilt. Months of pain poured out of her, and while her mom lost the battle that day, Zoe’s was only beginning.

  So broken and lost, I wanted to pick her up and carry her to my house. “Zoe,” I whispered as I crouched in front of her. I was afraid to speak too loud or too fast, and I approached with caution. “Look at me, Zo,” I told her when she didn’t lift her head.

  She heard my voice, I could tell because her grip tightened
on the blanket. Like she thought I’d take it from her, she hung on with every ounce of strength she had left.

  I heard the first piece of china break, followed by yelling that was shrill enough to shatter a window. Keely was only getting started. She didn’t cry, she threw shit until she got it out of her system. Zoe didn’t need to hear that, and I did what I felt was best.

  I slid my arms underneath her until she was cradled in my arms. She didn’t utter a single protest. She let me carry her wherever I wanted, and in that moment, I had to get her out of that house.

  It was at least eighty degrees outside, but I carried her across the street wrapped in the blanket. She hadn’t been eating much, and I swear she weighed even less than the day before.

  We knew it was coming, but no matter how we planned, nothing could have prepared us for the emptiness that filled her soul.

  Mom watched me carry Zoe through the front door and to my room where I laid her on the bed. Being out of the house made it easier to breathe, and Zoe opened her eyes. “Thank you,” she said as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

  I spent so much time at the Allens’, I felt lost, too. But it was my job to put Zoe back together. She was my best friend. “You can stay as long as you want.”

  “I don’t want to go home, Dylan, please,” she begged. “I feel Mom everywhere. Everything I look at, there’s a story about her. It hurts too much.”

  “I’m not leaving you, Zo.” I reached for her hand. She linked her fingers with mine and I swore she sighed. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

  Mom stood at the door and watched us as tears slid down her cheeks. Mrs. Allen was one of her best friends, and it killed her to see Zoe so broken.

  When I reach for her hand, she does the same thing she did that day, and links her fingers with mine. “What happened, Zo?”

  She picks up a piece of paper and hands me a letter. After scanning it from top to bottom, I realize the problem. “We knew you couldn’t stay in the dorms forever, right?”

  She nods, agreeing with me. “It’s just stupid. How can they throw me out?”