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“It’s so . . . hey, you okay?” She stops pulling me along once we reach a hallway that leads to the washrooms. We don’t have to yell over the music here.
Shaking my head to snap out of it, I smile at her even though I’m embarrassed. “Yeah. Thanks for back there. You didn’t need to pay for my drink.” I’m grateful for her help, but I wish I didn’t freeze up like that; I wish I had been able to get rid of that guy by myself. If she hadn’t appeared, would I have pried his sweaty hands off me? Put the much-needed distance between us? Stood up for myself the way I so desperately want to?
She waves me off. “It’s nothing. ButIshould thankyou.
Thomas told me you’re the one who pulled me out of the pool on Friday. So yeah, thanks.”
This time I wave her off. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I haven’t seen you since then. How are you?”
She shrugs and leans against the wall beside me to let other people by. “I’m all right. Shit happens. I’m Naomi, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Lori.”
“Well, I’mreallyglad to have met you. You’re the only person who noticed I was at the bottom of that pool. I can’t swim. I shouldn’t have been playing around with the guys near the deep end, but then again, they shouldn’t have pushed me in.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, for lack of anything else to say.
“Thomas felt terrible after,” she continues. “I was pissed, and he begged for my forgiveness. Like on his knees, begging. My other friends too. I keep thinking thatno onenoticed I didn’t come back up. How can you push someone into a pool and not notice they didn’t come back up? Yeah, yeah, the foam was in the way, but still.”
I don’t want to say “I’m sorry” again, but I do. I can’t imagine what she must be going through.
“Butyounoticed,” she continues, scanning my face. “I don’t even remember seeing you anywhere near me. Howdidyou notice?”
I’m sure my cheeks are already flushed from the heat in the club; otherwise they would’ve lit right up from embarrassment.
“I’m a lifeguard,” I sputter, trying not to think of the real reason. “I mean, not at that moment. But I was already watching you, so I noticed. But like, not creepily!”
Great, Lori. The fastest way to admit something’s creepy is to tell someone you weren’t being creepy.
An amused smile spreads across her face. “You were watching me? Why?”
“Not creepily!” I add again for some stupid reason and feel like face-palming. Now I have to tell her the reason, so she doesn’t think I’m some stalker, which is even more embarrassing.
“This is going to sound really dumb, but I had just embarrassed myself in front of this guy I really like, and I noticed you being all confident. I was wishing I was more like you when I saw them push you in.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not confident? You were dancing on stage like you owned it a few minutes ago.”
Now I know for a fact my face is fully red if it wasn’t already.
“That was . . . I don’t know. Not me.”
She tilts her head to the side and analyzes me. “Sure looked like you. Looked like you were having fun too.”
How can I explain it to someone who’s already so sure of herself? But no matter what I say, she’s right. I was having fun. I didn’t care that people were watching me.
Instead I ask, “How are you so confident?”
If she thinks it’s a strange question, she doesn’t show it. She purses her lips as she thinks. “Honestly? It’s a combination of things. But I guess mainly it’s because I know who I am and what I want, and I don’t give a fuck about what other people think about me. If people don’t like you, fuck ’em. If you’re having fun and they don’t like it, fuck ’em. As long as you’re true to yourself and you’re not hurting anyone, then who cares? Be who you wanna be and don’t apologize for it.”
Nodding, I think about her words. Faye has said some combination of them to me over the years, swear words included. Is that the secret to confidence?
Be who I want and don’t apologize for it.WhodoI want to be? The cell phone with unread messages from my mom burns a hole in my back pocket. I don’t want to be a doctor, that’s for sure.
“Now, tell me about this guy you have a crush on,” Naomi says, and I take a sip of my drink to hide my stupid grin.
Adam’s face pops into my head, but then an image of Dean replaces it and stays there. The butterflies in my stomach start up. “His name is Dean. He’s handsome and manly, but he’s so sweet and caring. He never forces me to do something I don’t want, but he also encourages me to come out of my shell. I think he gets me. And no matter how many times I embarrass myself in front of him, he still hangs out with me.”
Naomi laughs. “Sounds like he likes you. My advice? Keep being yourself; clearly it’s working. But don’t worry about embarrassing yourself. Be who you are and be confident in it. Is Dean, by chance, the guy who was dancing beside you on stage?”
