Waylon: That should work. He’ll feel more confident knowing his height isn’t an issue for you.
Harlow: Great, thanks!
I get ready for work and am relieved I’m not working with Ashley today. She’s nice enough, but she talks nonstop and as someone who was homeschooled for five years and didn’t havea normal high school experience, I find it uncomfortable when someone gossips about their “friends.” It’s one thing if she was saying nice things about them, but she’s not.
I’ve concluded she was probably a mean girl in high school, and ten years later, she’s still mentally there. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, but I’ve never been interested in talking shit about my so-called friends. After everything I’ve experienced, I’ve learned that you never know what someone else is going through behind closed doors, so it costs nothing to be nice.
Even now, I don’t have many friends. Although I have a lot of acquaintances—the other girls at work, Noah, Magnolia, Ellie from the ranch, the people in the horse club group chat, and some others I’ve met at show horse jumping events—I don’t consistently talk to them or share personal details of my life.
Delilah and Natalie were the only two, and now Waylon, who I consider being close to.
And I can’t imagine ever saying anything mean or hurtful about them.
“Hello, welcome!” I greet as another customer walks through the door. “Lemme know if I can help y’all find anything.”
“Thanks.” Two women smile at me before browsing the other side of the store.
“So this date on Friday…” Marissa comes and stands next to me, grabbing sweaters to fold so we look busy. “What’re you wearin’?”
I showed her Emery’s profile earlier when the store was empty and told her we were meeting up Friday for coffee. She’s a couple years older and way more experienced in the world of dating than me.
“Those new ankle boots we got in with jeans and a blue sweater.”
“The ones with the five-inch heels?”
“Yeah. Thought they’d be cute but hopefully I won’t slip or fall on my ass. That wouldn’t make a good first impression,” I say with a nervous chuckle.
“You’re gonna wearheels? On a date with a man who’s less than six-feet tall?”
My shoulders drop, and I turn to look at her. “Is that bad?”
“It is if you don’t wanna be taller than him.”
“I thought that meant I was showin’ him I was okay with his height and that he didn’t haveta be insecure if I was taller than him with heels?”
“Who told you that?” she asks around a fit of giggles.
My heart pounds in frustration because why would Waylon lie to me?
“A guy friend.”
This time her head falls back on her shoulders she’s cackling so hard. “A guy friend…who’s clearly in love with you.”
“No he’s not!” I almost laugh at the idea of Waylon liking me that way.
“Why else would he try and jeopardize your date?”
“To be fair, he’s like six-two, so maybe he doesn’t know because he’s always taller than most girls.”
Marissa’s face twists in an expression that tells me she’s not buying it.
“What?” I ask.
“That man doesn’t want your date to go well.”
I’m not about to admit I’m a virgin and that he’s been teaching me about sex, so I shrug and drop it.
And fuck worrying about a man’s height, I’m getting the cute ankle boots forme.
