Hello August, Please Be Good To Me

Chapter 9: He Loves Me

Mariana and Cat give me that look: the one where I'm missing something so obvious and its cute that I don't even realize it. "What?" I ask and turn to Cat. She shakes her head and I don't give her time to respond before I turn to Mariana. "What? I hate when you guys do this, it's not really funny," I frown. I have about a half an hour before the end of my shift for the day and my co-workers are getting on my nerves.

"Lyric, you be bustin' out these As but you can't pick up on when a guy likes you?"

"What!" I say for the third time in a row. I look at her confused. "You think Justin likes me too?" Cat restocks the cookies in the glass and shrugs, but gives me a mischievous smile. "I'd say he's interested. Hey, this could be your summer fling, yeah?" Mariana nods and smiles too. I don't. "I don't want a summer fling. And..." Of course I don't know what I actually want. That never seems to come easy when I have to actively think about it. I had told Cat and Mariana about Justin before, but now I feel embarrassed. I hadn't let myself even consider the possibility that my feelings weren't one sided. I'd told them about my Walmart Adventure, and when Mariana had mentioned she knew a Justin who worked at Cinnabon, I told her it was the same one. "But you are going to the beach with him right? I mean, he's only using his 'friends' as props," Mariana says, concentrating on piping some blue icing onto a cookie cake. "Wait, is it like a date?" I feel a sense of panic rise and close up my throat, and start to freak out. I don't even know where that question came from, and I regret it as soon as I open my mouth. "If you want it to be, I guess so. I mean why not?" is Mariana's response. Cat says, "He's trying to get to know you better Lyric, but be careful 'cause guys love to hang around in packs. You gotta separate the one you want from the crowd." Mariana adds another blue flower before disappearing into the kitchen area. "You know, for someone I thought couldn't make a move you're a pretty bold person."

All these things are still swimming in my head when I get home and sit at my computer with the screen stuck on Photoshop. I'm not bold. Or brave. Or any of those synonyms. I might be a great actor, but that's where it stops. Now that there's the possibility that Justin might like me, I can start to feel the dread and anxiety build, and I know it won't be gone until after Destin. I don't even know why I agreed really, I don't know any of these people besides Justin, and honestly I don't know him. But it'd be cool to know him...I stop my thoughts right there and turn my attention back to playing around on Photoshop. Mid click of my mouse, my phone goes off and I slide in my chair that rolls all the way to the window. I look at the sender name and nearly loose it. Justin sent me a text with the information for Destin. We're meeting at Justin's house (443 Henrietta Drive), five in the morning (what is this, school?) and then driving to McDonald's before we head out. I wonder if I'll have to drive to the house and Destin, and without thinking I type and send my question. Justin responds not too long after, saying "it's up to you!" Within seconds, he responds again saying there's four cars, and he's one of the drivers.

As far out from my comfort zone as this is, and it is very far, I feel a sense of excitement come on, and suddenly riding in a car with strangers doesn't seem that bad. Not even a full five seconds after I come to that realization, I wonder how I'm going to explain this to my dad. "Oh yeah, by the way, that guy in the other line at the Apple store, you know, the day we got my new phone? I saw the guy again. Don't worry I've seen him after that, twice, and his name is Justin and umm he's going to Destin with some friends and he invited me so can I go...?" I try it out loud and realize that I don't sound convincing even to myself. The second option, sneaking out, is a bad idea if I ever heard one. I know there's no way my dad wouldn't notice my absence after half the day. (He still sometimes calls the house during the summer to talk to me or Danté to "check in". We just lie and say we were in the bathroom or outside and didn't see he called until much later.) The trip is in three days and the only solution I have is to fudge the truth. Dad never did check up on my outings with my high school friends thanks to the fact that I never did anything outside of them when I wanted to have fun.

I hear the front door open and close, and the smell of Papa John's pizza waft through the air and into my room. "Pizza!" I hear Danté yell, and I leave my room to go eat too, rehearsing in my head the best way to ask my dad for permission. Three boxes stacked on top of each other, two large, one medium greet me as I grab a plate and sit down at the table with the rest of my family. I look over at my dad as he shakes his head at my brother before grabbing his own box. My dad keeps his head shaved, and it fits him, as now he has a bald spot right on the top of his head. He wears the same rectangular frames he's had since I was in fifth grade, with the dark grey arms, and his eyes are shades darker than my own and my brother's. Ours have gotten lighter the older we've become. Funny enough, Danté and I don't look much alike, yet everyone can tell we're related to Mr. Moore. Sometimes I can see it. He and Danté share the same mouth and nose, while me and my dad both have a wide forehead and pointed chin. I look at baby pictures from when my mom was still alive, and neither me not Danté seem to look like her at all. She was dark as actress Lupita Nyong'o, and neither of her kids' looks seem to reflect her genes. But I like going through the old photo albums because I like to see the way my parent's smiles for each other were captured. My dad doesn't smile like that now. He doesn't even mention my mom years later.

I clear my throat and break the silence. "Hey dad, I have a question."