I cover my mouth and snicker.
* * *
“You can’t wear that,”Carley says, sitting from her perch on the couch. This is the sixth outfit she’s vetoed so far. “I’ve only got one more.” I look at the clock. “He’s going to be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Let’s see the final option and we can choose the best of the worst.” She rolls her eyes. “We’re going thrifting this week. You need to have clothes to wear out with this guy.”
“Do not.” This is a one-time thing. “He’s only taking me out to apologize.”
“Sure.” She shoos me away. “Go. Let’s see this final option.”
I was really hoping some of the others would have worked out, because this last one is way too, well, girly. In other words, it’snotme. It’s the reason I told Carley she had to stay out of my closet and remain on the couch for this. She would have picked this up first while I’d prefer to wear one of my legging-slash-tunic combinations, but she said I looked like a mom instead of a hot, single chick.
Ha! That’s a joke.
No matter, I race into my room and grab the dress my mom bought for me to wear to my cousin’s wedding last year. It’s black, which is its only redeeming quality. Honestly, I don’t know why my mom chose this dress for me. It’s short and sort of low-cut. Not even close to my mother’s usual style. Unzipping the back, I step into it and pull it up past my hips and over my boobs. Sliding my arms into the short sleeves, I hope and pray I haven’t gained too much weight since the last time I wore it. Reaching back, I contort myself enough to get the zipper up halfway. After stepping into the short heels that go with the dress, I rush out the living room and give Carley my back. “Can you zip me?”
“What is that?” She sounds disgusted as I hear the zipper go up.
“What is what?” I turn and face her.
“Why the hell didn’t you put that on first? We would have been done hours ago.”
“It’s short.” I point to the fact that the hem ends midthigh.”
“Yeah. It’s the perfect length.”
Ignoring her, I point to my cleavage. “It’s too low-cut.”
“Bullshit.” She stands up and touches the sleeves. “You’ll want a sweater. Wear my little black cardigan with it.” She twirls her finger in the air. “Spin.” I do. I turn 360 degrees. “That silhouette is absolutely perfect for you.”
“Mom said they called it fit and flare.”
“It’s perfect.” She then runs into her bedroom, returning with the cropped cardigan sweater.
Sliding my arms in, I frown. “I’m going to stretch it out.”
“Shut up.” Carley pulls my hair out from beneath the sweater and smooths it down. She flat-ironed my hair and did my makeup again. I told her I wanted it light and natural and that’s what I got except for the red lipstick. “Your coloring is perfect for bright red,” she’d said as she applied it.
The knock on the door makes me jump about three feet in the air. “He’s here,” I whisper, but it comes out husky.
“He is.” Carley smiles brightly. Touching my face, she adds, “Your first official date.”
“It’s not a date.”
She takes hold of both shoulders and leans in close. “If he’s wearing a suit and tie, it’s a date.”
“He said dress up.” I roll my eyes. “I––” Before I can finish, he knocks again. “You get it,” I say to Carley. I’m so nervous, I may pee my pants. Well, in this case, panties.
“Coming,” she says. loud enough for him to hear, but to me she adds softly, “I hope it’s you that comes tonight.”
“Shut up.” I laugh as I slap her on her arm. “So gross.”
“You’ll see just hownotgross it is.” She gives me a sly look. “Hopefully soon.” Before I know it, she’s at the door with her hand on the knob. “Ready?”
I nod even though inside I’m shaking like a leaf. And after I see the man at the door, I know my nerves are well-placed. I’m about to say “wow,” but he beats me to it.
“You look beautiful, Emma Perkins.”
