Page 46 of Leaving the Station

“What should I wear?” I asked Alden an hour or so later as I opened and closed my drawers over and over, throwing outfit options onto my bed.

The calendar had only just flipped to October, yet the themed parties had already started. This one was “beach chic,” whatever that meant.

Alden was lying with his back to the wall, one leg bent and the other hanging over the bed, writing an essay.

“You look good in anything,” he said, running his hands through his hair as he stared at his laptop. He said it so mindlessly, so sweetly.

As I went through my underwear drawer, I accidentally pulled out an item I hadn’t thought of in weeks: my binder.

I’d bought it over the summer, when I’d thought I might experiment more with how I presented in college. When it arrived at my home in Seattle in discreet packaging, I’d run up to my bedroom and tried it on with the door bolted shut. I couldn’t stop staring at my flat chest, how it made a loose T-shirt look entirely different on my body. I took pictures of myself from the neck down, and moved them to a private album on my phone.

I hadn’t looked at those pictures in a while, but they were there, hiding in wait.

I pulled the binder out when Alden wasn’t looking and shoved it under the shirt I’d laid on my bed. It was a loose floral button-up with cuffed sleeves that looked passably beachy.

There was a part of my brain that couldn’t stop replaying the moment when we were kissing and I’d thought about having stubble. It was ridiculous, but it had taken root in my head and wouldn’t let go.

“I’m going over to the Tees to pregame,” I told him, shoving my whole outfit into a tote bag. “You can stay here if you want.”

The Tees had extended their invitation to Alden, though I knew it wasn’t sincere, and he was too stressed about meeting his deadline to go out anyway.

I hated that I didn’t mind.

Because really, Ididwant to spend as much time with him as possible, but not in combination with the Tees. And not right now, when I was having confusing thoughts about him—ormaybe about me, but he made me feel those things.

The pregame was happening in Rex’s dorm, and by the time I got there, Shelly was using a half-empty bottle of wine as a microphone with which to belt ABBA songs.

“Come be a dancing queen!” Shelly shouted as I walked in, without any trace of awkwardness.

“In a minute,” I told him, laughing.

Rex handed me a red plastic cup. “Put anything you want in there. We’ve got apple juice, wine, and vodka.”

I nodded and filled it with apple juice, and even though it was entirely nonalcoholic, I felt floaty after a few songs.

“I brought something kind of beachy,” I told the three of them. “I’m gonna change.”

“YESSSS!” Shelly shouted. “BEACH FIT! BEACH FIT!”

He was drunk, and I was giggly.

The only bathroom on Rex’s floor was a gender-neutral one, so I slipped inside with my tote bag. I changed slowly, then carefully folded the clothes I’d worn to the greenhouse and tucked them away.

The lighting was terrible and the mirror was dirty, but even so, when I stepped out of the stall, I knew I looked good.

I turned to the side and pressed my palm over my chest: there was nothing there, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

The only problem was my hair, which was long and unruly. I fixed it as much as I could by putting it up in a loose bun.

“You look HOT!” Shelly said, stumbling forward and grabbing my arm as I reentered Rex’s room.

Autumn nodded in agreement, and even Rex seemed to approve of the fit.

As the four of us headed over to the party, I walked with my shoulders back. Even though Alden wasn’t there, I could still feel his presence.

Ialwaysfelt his presence.

Without him there, though, I could do something I hadn’t before: I could act like him. I tried to channel his mannerisms, his ease.