There is a moment when your vision of someone gets clearer. It's like sitting in the eye doctor's office and they have you take an eye test where you quickly learn which of the two small visual discs they offer makes your vision clearer. Everything snaps into place, and you suddenly see the world with startling clarity. You had no idea three seconds before just how utterly blind you were.
That is what it was like looking at Tate as he stood before me, refusing to make eye contact with me. He was a boy of all smiles, but he was someone who could also lie. Because I had no idea just how much pain he had been hiding.
It took me a moment to process what I was seeing. The black v neck that stretched across his body fit perfectly. He hadn't ruined anything. Then I saw them. My eyes caught on what he had wished me to avoid seeing.
Scars. Long jagged cuts that had healed into sharp lines, cut across his arms from under the shirt. Like something had broken him apart and stitched him back together in a hurry.
More scars snaked up his chest from under the v neck and ran up to his collar. "I should have told you... I... was in an accident..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry."
I blinked, looking up at Tate as he stared at a spot over my shoulder like a lifeline. "What? Why are you sorry? You have gone above and beyond today by agreeing to do this at all." I shook my head, angry that his first thought was to apologize. "Never apologize for your scars. They are a part of you. It's like apologizing for freckles after spending time in the sun."
"Yeah well..." he shrugged. "I can't really model like this can I?" Tate shoved his hands in his pockets, still unwilling to look me in the eye. "Like I said, you can't fix this."
I crossed my arms. "Bull."
He finally looked at me, surprise registering in his dark green eyes. "What?"
"Why can't you model?" I looked him over again. "You look great in this. With or without scars. If you don't want to walk out there and have your picture taken, I won't pressure you. And if you'd prefer to hide your scars for today, I can make that happen. But..."
I walked up to him and gently touched one of the long scars on his arm. "Don't let these scars define you. Don't let them make you afraid to be yourself, or hide under layers of clothes if you don't want to."
His muscle twitched under my fingers, where I touched his scar. "You are a very interesting woman Allie Winters," he said softly.
I dropped my hand away from his arm and took a step back. "As someone who has scars of her own, I just wish someone had told me that when I wanted nothing more in the world than to hide mine."
I glanced at his scars again. "Do they still hurt?" I could tell he had gotten them in the last year. I had patched up my sister enough times to know.
He shook his head. "Not too bad."
I nodded. "Okay, I have an idea." I walked towards the dressing room door. "That is if you still want to cover them?"
He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. I think it's a good idea."
I offered him what I hoped was an encouraging smile. "It's okay you know." I rested my hand on the doorknob. "If you want to go... It's fine. Butâ"
"I'd like to finish what I started," he replied.
"Michale and I haven't scared you away?" I teased.
Tate smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes. He ran his fingers through his air. "I don't want to be left alone with a piece of lint on my body while Michale goes on a scavenger hunt... but no. He hasn't scared me off."
I raised a brow. "And me?"
"I'll keep you posted," he answered with a smirk.
...
The lights were low, except for two colorful spotlights that were trained on Tate and me. We stood in the center of a makeshift dance floor, surrounded by deep hues of purple and blue low lights that made up the illusion of a club.
I had managed to hide Tate's scars under very thick liquid foundation and several layers of powder before having the makeup girls help me create several fake tattoos along his arms. And one that cut out of his v neck and wove its way up the side of his neck. And if I thought he looked good without the tattoos it should have been illegal to see him with them on. I need this day to end soon.
The club scene we were thrown into left us in shadow while our clothes took center stage, making his tattoos a perfect addition. It gave him a punk look, matching his shadow makeup and the goth rings on his fingers.
After watching the way the shadows hit our bodies, I managed to pose, throwing Tate's arms and chest in shadow. As the final set of lights were adjusted, Michale prepped his camera, throwing instructions at us. "I'm going to have you wrap your arms around his neck Allie."
Before I even had a chance to respond, Michale moved, holding up the camera to his face, and assessed the lights. I turned and awkwardly placed my arms around Tate's neck. "Come here often?" Tate asked in a teasing tone.
"I used to. But they just kept playing the same song over and over. Got boring," I replied, pulling my eyes away and looking at the lights above us. Our faces were close and I wasn't quite capable of looking right at him without losing control of my brain and saying something incredibly stupid. Like you just did...
Tate chuckled, his breath tickling my face. "I know what you mean. If you get a bad DJ, you end up with a bunch of songs in a row that sound the same."
We fell into silence for a moment. "Thank you," I said, pulling us to a more sincere topic as I forced myself to look back up into his face. "For doing this," I gestured with one of my fingers to the space around us. "It's been a weird day."
He laughed. "Understatement of the year. You keep me on my toes."
We swayed to nonexistent music as Michale began to click his camera. "Uggo has a bald spot thanks to you."
I shook my head, irritated that he had named that stupid plant and was now giving me updates on said stupid plant. "Are you sure it's not from putting up with your terrible singing?"
"Nah. He's traumatized from his time with you," Tate replied without missing a beat.
"Drama-filled love hedge," I muttered.
Michale motioned for Tate to stand behind me and wrap his arms around my waist. "Have you figured out who your secret admirer is?" Tate asked, his breath tickling my ear.
It was hard to think with him so close. I kept expecting Michale to tell me to stop acting so weird. To stop looking so nervous. But he just continued to click his camera wildly, like we were giving him exactly what he was looking for. "No. And I kind of hope they've changed their mind."
"Why?" Tate asked.
"Dating me is a very stupid idea," I replied, thankful Tate couldn't see my face.
There was a pause in our conversation. I turned to look up at Tate, curious when his silence continued. "Then he must be an idiot," Tate said looking down at me. "That can't quite help himself."
I bit my lip, trying to kill my heartbeat. Trying to kill the strange way my stomach tightened. Trying to kill all signs that I had emotions at all. Stop saying nice things... "Love makes idiots of us all."
"I need a smile shot. Turn around and hold each other close. Pretend you are sharing a secret," Michale insisted climbing up onto a stool for a high shoot. He looked utterly ridiculous, but he knew his way around a camera.
When someone's picture was being taken, I always loved looking at the behind-the-scenes shot because photographers did crazy things for the perfect picture. And Michale was the king of ridiculous photographer poses.
I turned to face Tate and placed my hands on his chest. After a beat, he gently placed his hands on my waist. Tate began to hum to himself, swaying to the beat of his own making. The hum transformed and before I could stop him, he burst into song like the dork he was, butchering the words to Classic by MKTO.
"Woo girl, you're dyin'
Like a 5th floor diamond,
And they don't make food like they used to
You're never goin' out of a pile!!!"
He stopped when I groaned. "You really need to get your hearing checked. How did you even get those words!?!" He continued, jumping into the chorus before I could say another word.
"You're over the bread, I'm out of my time!
Thinkin' I was sworn into the wrong crime!"
I scoffed, "Those aren't the words!" I heard several chuckles from the others around us. Susan was trying not to laugh as she stood off to the left. Michale seemed utterly taken with the class clown that Tate was. Come on, guys! Help a girl out!
"Hey, unless you want to keep hearing Tate's version, you are gonna have to show me how it's done," he teased. I huffed and shook my head, trying to keep a straight face. He shrugged. "Your loss."
"One of a porcupine, living in a world gone spastiâ"
I couldn't take it anymore. I took a step back, out of his arms, shooting him an irritated expression. He was utterly infuriating. We were supposed to be trying to get through the photoshoot without everything falling apart and he insisted on having a ridiculous karaoke party.
He seemed unphased by my irritation. Instead, he gave a small bow and waved his hand, waiting for me to take his challenge. Stupid hot driver guy...
I sighed and walked up to him taking up a new beat to the same song, pulling his arms back around my waist. Then I fixed his terrible rendition to the song, singing the right words.
"You're over my head, I'm out of my mind
Thinkin' I was born in the wrong time
One of a kind, livin' in a world gone plastic
Baby, you're so classic."
Tate beamed so brightly that I could have sworn the world was on fire. That the sun was going to be out of a job. His smile made me stop short. I felt the warmth in the smile all the way down to my toes. Holy cow. That smile is going to kill me. I suddenly wanted to see that smile every moment of every day forâ No Allie. It's a trap. You can't date him. It would end terribly. The idea of being the reason why Tate didn't smile made my chest ache. No dating him.
But I found myself smiling up at him as he repeated the right words back down to me, no longer belting out butchered lyrics. Instead, his voice sang them in his a deep rich baritone, surprising me. I had no idea he could sing.
"You're over my head, I'm out of my mind
Thinkin' I was born in the wrong time
One of a kind, livin' in a world gone plastic
Baby, you're so classic."
We stood smiling at each other, in our own world of dorky ridiculousness. I hadn't done anything spontaneous like that in a long time and it felt wonderful. "You can sing! Not bad Winters!" Tate said with a wide grin, dimples flashing.
I shrugged, not sure what to do with the compliment. I had never been good at handling compliments. They just sat awkwardly on my shoulders, like a strange thing that was supposed to drape you in kindness. But I wasn't sure how to respond to that. What did you do with kind words?
"THAT'S A WRAP!" Michale shouted. And just like that, we were done and I moved out of Tate's arms.
Susan rushed up to me as Tate and I stepped apart. "That was great!" she gushed. "Michale loved everything. He has so many fantastic shots of the clothes."
"Great. I can't wait to take a look," I replied pulling off the high heels and enjoying the feel of the cool floor under my toes.
"Are you wanting to change before heading out?" Susan asked.
I shook my head. "I can always return these to the office tomorrow."
Susan turned to look at Tate, turning shy. "Um... I was wondering if you could possibly give me a ride home. My ride canceled on me."
Tate paused, thinking. "I don't know if there is going to be enough room. The car is kinda gonna be packed with all the clothes and I have to drive Allie hoâ"
Susan waved away his concern. "Michale offered to take them. He wants to get a few shots of the clothes by themselves anyway. And we can drop off Allie first. No problem." Susan turned to look at me, "That is... if you are okay with it?"
I wasn't. I very much wasn't. I could tell by the pleading look in her eyes that she shot me with that her ride had definitely not ditched her. I could see it all over her face.
Something ugly reared up inside of me, insisting that I ditch her right there to find her own damn way home.
But what kind of person is selfish enough to leave someone behind so she can spend time alone with her driver? It wasn't a logical instinct, but it was hard to pretend it didn't bother me. I knew as soon as they dropped me off, Susan was going pounce on Tate and ask him out. I knew it like I knew that Tate was too nice to say no.
It made me feel like an idiot for caring. Why can't she ask him out? She's nice and sweet and so is he. But even though my brain insisted on screaming logic at me, something deep down protested, angry and full of jealous warning.
Ugh. I feel like I am in high school...
I shrugged. "Fine by me," I lied. TOOOOOTALLY FINE.
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Thank you for reading chapter eight! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
What are your thoughts on Susan crashing Allie's ride home?
Will Susan ask Tate out? Will he say yes?
Why is Allie insisting to herself that going out with Tate would be a bad idea? Will she ever change her mind?
Wondering what song Tate and Allie were singing? If you haven't heard of MKTO's "Classic" check out the song below!
CHAPTER QUESTION - Have you ever had to deal with a third wheel when you were trying to hang out with your crush? How did that go?