Just a Girl - Becky Monson Page 0,19

immediately frizzy and the only reprieve I can get from feeling it stick against my skin is to pull it up in a messy bun atop my head.

“You want a secret?” I say, giving Henry a side-eyed glance. He’s rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves, and there’s an adorable dotting of perspiration across his forehead. Summertime in this hot and humid state can really ruin romantic evening walks.

“It doesn’t have to be secret. Just something that you don’t tell just anyone.”

I think on this for a second. “And why do you think you deserve to know this about me?”

Henry lifts his shoulders, just briefly. “I s’pose I don’t. I’d like to, though.”

“Okay,” I say, acquiescing quicker than I think he expects. How could I not with a response like that? I had only questioned him to tease him anyway. The truth is I’m not really a person who keeps much from people. I’m more of the open-book type. If you want to know something about me, just ask.

Henry leans in and nudges me with his shoulder as we walk. “I’m waiting,” he says, a teasing tone to his voice.

I smile. “Hmm, let me think. Something most people don’t know about me.” I tap my finger on my chin as I try to think of something.

“I’m waiting,” Henry says, looking at his watch as if I’m taking too much time.

“Okay, okay. I’ve got something. I just don’t want to scare you away, that’s all.”

“Oh, so it’s something juicy,” he says, giving me a double eyebrow raise.

“No, not at all. It’s just that, if I tell you this, you can’t look at me any differently, okay?”

Henry’s face morphs from playful smile to something a bit more like concern. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Why? Are you scared now?” I ask, my words light and breezy.

“No, of course not.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“Would you just tell me?” he says through a laugh.

“Okay, fine. So, when my mom was pregnant with me, my parents were living in Singapore.”

“Really? Were you born there?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I was born in Boston. They were in Singapore for my dad’s job. They came back to the States three months before I was born. But before they left Singapore, they had an ultrasound done to find out if I was a boy or a girl.”

“Okay,” Henry says, drawing out the word.

“The equipment that was used wasn’t quite as up to speed as the technology we have here, so when they did the ultrasound, my parents were told that I was a boy. There was . . . uh, evidence, according to my mother.”

“What a load of rubbish,” Henry says, looking over at me and then looking back at the sidewalk in front of him.

I hold my hands up, palms toward the sky. “I swear, it’s true.”

“So, I mean, obviously it was wrong.”

I laugh. “Yes, obviously. I’m definitely a woman, believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Henry says, and I look over to find him staring at me appreciatively. My insides do a little flip-flop. “Keep on with your story.”

“Well, they came back to the US, and because they were pretty poor back then, they didn’t do another ultrasound. So, being first-time parents, they got everything ready for their baby boy. They painted the nursery blue, bought me loads of boy clothes, and came up with a name.”

“And?”

“And imagine their surprise when I came out and . . . I was a girl.”

“What did they do?”

“My dad took one look at me and said, ‘Well, I sure hope it doesn’t grow back,’” I say, lowering my tone in an attempt to imitate my dad.

Henry guffaws, throwing his head back as he laughs loud and hard. I laugh, too, but not because of the story, more because his laughter is so contagious. It’s like a beacon of sunshine on this hot and damp night.

“So that’s how I got the name Quinn.”

“You mean—”

“Yep. They kept the name.”

He laughs again, this time not quite as hard, but it’s still enough to make my insides swarm with pleasure. I enjoy making him laugh. In fact, it’s now on my list of favorite things. I’ll tuck it right above spotting fireflies and right below Niall Horan.

“This is a story you don’t tell many people?” Henry asks, raising one eyebrow just slightly above the other.

“No, I tell pretty much everyone,” I say, and Henry laughs again.

We slow down our pace as my building comes into view.

“I recall that I asked you for something