Ticktock Love

[19] Petty in Pink

When I pulled up at school the next morning, the world seemed to have shifted overnight. The scent of excitement wafted out of the building, inviting me into the new universe behind the threshold, engulfing me in a vivacious hubbub of laughter and high spirits as soon as I accepted. I muttered 'inconceivable' under my breath as I traversed the hallway labyrinth, channeling my inner Vizzini from Princess Bride.

It was nothing short of a miracle, really. Nobody had overdone it or made ridicule of the protest. The girls were wearing shorts, mid-thigh skirts, short-sleeved tops, metal chains, three-inch heels, large hoop earrings, all-black and all-color. They proudly trotted the vinyl flooring as if it were a runway, strutting their hips and flinging their hair. Even the guys had joined – I had seen several of them running around the school corridors in shorts or football jerseys, whopping about the school spirit even though there was no game today.

It was beautiful.

I found Aiden leaning against my locker, scrolling through his Instagram feed as he waited for me. I nearly did a double take when my brain comprehended his outfit, an off-the-shoulder top and a pair of ripped, faded shorts, the whole ensemble topped with a pair of blue sneakers.

He grinned at me when he noticed my presence. "I'm sorry, are my shoulders distracting you, Liz?"

"Well, they're very... wide," I declared, blinking the ludicrous image away, but it never faltered. "Why are you wearing this? Did you raid your mom's closet or something?"

"Almost. She gave it to me herself," he replied, effortlessly rotating down to another locker so I could open my own. "Honestly, I read that list of rules yesterday, and that account kinda had a point. It's really hard for a guy to break the dress code on purpose."

"Tell me about it," I let out a sour laugh. "I mean, sure, you aren't allowed to wear jerseys outside of gym or practice. And the 'no shorts' rule still applies. But how often do you see a girl with wide knee-length pants?"

"Never?" he shrugged.

"Basically. In culottes, perhaps, but who wears those nowadays?"

Aiden seemed like he wanted to ask me for the definition of the word, but then changed his mind.

"Hey, I've gotta say, I'm loving these," he twirled like a ballet dancer, and when I subsequently snorted, he put his hands on his hips. "Do you think the pants make my butt look big?" I playfully smacked him with my Geography textbook, accidentally hitting his backside. "Ouch, Liz. Leave the spanking for when we're alone."

My cheeks turned red, and I cleared my throat as if that could make them cool down. "Still smaller than your ego. Your butt, I mean."

His grin was infectious. "So, who wore it better?"

"Me, of course," I scoffed, pointing at my own blue faded jeans, cut off a solid few inches above my knees. Then I sighed wistfully. "I wish we could wear shorts every day."

Aiden reached for his back pocket – unlike me, he wasn't a victim of the no-pockets fad that had somehow overtaken the women's fashion – and took out his cellphone. He made a quick swipe before pointing the device at me.

"Smile for the camera, Liz," he smirked at me. I immediately covered my face, conspicuously peeking at him through the opening between my fingers.

"Nuh-uh. No way. I refuse to become another meme anytime soon."

"Come on, Lizzie," he leisurely wrapped his arm around me, like it was something he did every day. "Would it be better if I was in the picture with you?"

My traitorous heart sped up at his touch, pumping blood the way kids siphoned sundae from an ice cream machine. I was aware of every digit that was laid on my shoulder, leaving invisible marks on my bare skin, burning transcendental patterns with its soft pressure.