“Yeah?” I try to sound excited.
“Yes!”
I stare in the mirror, running my finger along the bags under my eyes as she chatters on about how amazing everything is going to be.
“What time are we going out?”
“I’ll be there to pick you up at nine, and wear something pretty like a dress or that cute-as-fuck black miniskirt you have tucked away somewhere in the bowels of your closet.”
“I have sexy clothes.”
“Not since you called it quits with Leo. Anyway, a flannel and jeans do not equal sexy unless you’re a lumberjack. Last time I checked, you didn’t fit the bill. You’ve been in a rut, my friend.”
I glance down and tug at the edge of my favorite red flannel. “I think I’m pretty hot. And you wore a flannel last night.”
“Just look good tonight, or I’m picking out your clothes when I get there.”
“Fine,” I groan.
“Hey, Daphne,” she says before I can hang up.
“Yeah?”
“Shave your bits too.” She ends the call before I can ask why it matters. I’m not going to sleep with anyone.
* * *
Michelle gaspswhen I open the front door.
Somehow, I managed to get my favorite pencil skirt on without falling over, and it’s hugging all my curves in just the right spots. I feel a little bit like the old Daphne again. The one who didn’t spend a month sulking, trying to pretend Leo Conti didn’t exist.
“Dayumn!” Her eyes travel down my body, ending at my feet, which are covered in the cutest black high heels.
“I did good?” I touch my cleavage, regretting the new push-up bra I bought last week because my tits look off-the-chain huge.
“You’re you again.” She whistles, looking impressed. “Someone’s going to get lucky.”
“I’m not sleeping with anyone tonight, Michelle,” I tell her again because she doesn’t seem to believe me.
“Did you shave?” She grabs my arm, lifting it high in the air, but I pull it back quickly. “Phew. But did you shave everything?”
“Why do I have to shave everything if I’m not sleeping with anyone?”
“Because you need dick badly, and no man wants a bush.”
I roll my eyes and already know this is going to be a very long night.
* * *
Thirty minutes later,we’re standing outside, waiting in line for a nightclub on the North Side. “What is this place?”
“It’s the hottest club right now.” She reapplies her lip gloss for the tenth time since we stepped out of the car.
“This doesn’t look like much of a club.” I peer up at the building, and it looks like it should’ve been condemned ten years ago.
“Look at the line.” She motions to the people behind us with the tube still in her hand. “There’s the proof. Looks can be deceiving. Kind of like you in that flannel. You look frumpy, but you clean up nice.”
“Watch it. I always look good. I just don’t need to get all dolled up every day for Johnny and the guys at the bar.”
