“Let me grab you a tissue,” Lou offers.
“No, I’m fine. I can grab my own tissue. You start the movie.” I stand up, leaving them on the couch, discussing who else has aged well, and head to the bathroom to blow my nose and wash my face. I’m drying my hands when my phone vibrates in my back pocket.
I pull it out to see a text from Hunter.
Hope you are having fun with the shaved-legs-and-skin-care crew. I can’t wait for tomorrow night. Just wanted to tell you. Also, I hope you have a good pair of dancing shoes!
I quickly type back,I’m excited too. But ... DANCING SHOES?? You know clubs are not really my scene ...
No clubs. Promise.
Then why the shoes??
He sends me thespeak no evilmonkey emoji.
I need details.
You’ll have to wait and see.
Fine. Be that way.But I’m smiling as I look at my screen, watching the three dots move as he types a response.
All will be revealed in due time. Enjoy your movie.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and try to wipe the goofy grin off my face before I go back out.
As I squish myself back in between my two best friends and grab more caramel popcorn, Talia says without taking her eyes off the screen, “What did you do in there, give yourself a facial?”
“No.” I purse my lips. “If you must know, Hunter was texting me.”
“Ooooh,” Lou singsongs. “Smexy texts from my cousin! I don’t know if I should be excited for you or grossed out right now.”
“They weren’tsmexy. Just ... sweet.” When Lou starts to laugh, I smack her on the arm. “Shut up. Watch your movie, and eat your crack-corn.”
“Wise words,” Talia says with a laugh-snort.
But even though I sit there beside them and look at the TV, technically watching the movie, I can barely remember the main characters’ names by the end because all I can think about is why I need dance shoes for tomorrow—and what it would feel like to have Hunter’s arms around me again.
24.
Getting ready for a date is always a production—but when you’re getting ready for a date with your neighbor who has to share your bathroom, that makes it much more ... interesting. Lou actually created a schedule for tonight so we didn’t run into each other coming in or out of the bathroom to shower.
As I stand at the dresser in my room, finishing my makeup, my heart thumps in my chest. I haven’t been this excited or nervous for a date in ... maybe ever, honestly. I can’t help but think of the first time I got ready to go anywhere with Hunter. I was so angry at him, so determined to make him regret rejecting me. It feels like that date at the White Chocolate Grill was a lifetime ago, as if we’re different people than we were that night, even though it was only a few weeks ago.
Tonight, I’m wearing a black dress again, but not the one I still haven’t cleaned from when Hunter knocked the dessert into my chest. This one, I almost never wear because it has a V-neck, and you can see my scar. For some reason, as I looked through my closet, trying to decide what to wear,I couldn’t stop looking at this dress. I’ve always loved it. It’s sleeveless and has a slit that goes halfway up my thigh. When I tried it on at the store, I felt sexy and powerful. Like maybe I could stand next to Lou and not fade into the background. I bought it ... and promptly put it in the back of my closet. I never took it out again because the one time I put it on before a date, all I could see was the ugly scar marring the skin on my chest. I’d pulled it off and never put it on again.
Until tonight.
A test, for Hunter. He says I can’t scare him off. And Iwantto believe him. Hence the dress. I want to feel sexy and powerful ...andI want to see if he can manage to spend a whole night with my scar on display, a constant reminder for him, and still not freak out.
I finish applying my mascara and set the tube back in my makeup bag, next to the bottles of immunosuppressants that line my dresser. Almost immediately, the familiar anxiety surges up, swallowing my excitement and regurgitating it as dread. What am I thinking? There is no normal life for me. There is no “chance at happiness.” Hunter needs to know what he’s—
“No.”
I actually say it out loud, the only way I know how to make the spiral stop. I stare at myself in the mirror.
“You are not sabotaging this,” I whisper quietly but firmly. I try to do what Talia did last night and replace my fears with other options. “You arehealthy. You are amiracle.” I take a deep breath. “You deserve happiness. And so does Hunter.”
But what if he doesn’t like methatmuch? What if I’m working myself up into a frenzy, trying to think all positive and make myself believe I have a future worth fighting for,when he’s not interested in more than a date or two to help him get over his breakup and—
