Instead, excitement does.
When I reach the register to pay, I see a mirror on the wall behind the clerk. I look at myself. Really look at myself. My hair is up in a cute little messy bun, my bangs curling over my forehead. My blue glasses are bright against my face, but the most beautiful thing about me is my grin. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I’m happy. Really happy, and I’m excited to keep shopping.
To find something to wear on a date with Owen.
Something sexy.
For him.
I look down at my phone and hit his text thread.
Me: I miss you.
Owen: I miss you. Are you having fun? Got anything good?
Me: Yes, a blast. Jean is fun.
Owen: I thought you’d like her.
Me: Thank you for this.
Owen: Anything for you.
Oh Jesus, I’ve fallen for this guy.
I just hope he’s falling for me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Angie
* * *
Mom: Make sure to send me pictures of you in your dress…and maybe one of you and this guy.
I exhale as I read my mom’s message over once more. It was easy to send her pictures of my outfits since I was able to make the angles look as if the clothes were smaller than they were. I folded a lot of it to take away the volume of the fabric, but there is no way in hell I can fold my dress to make it look smaller on me. Or to make myself look smaller in it. I bite into my lip and consider getting an app to Photoshop the picture I would take, but if I do go home, it’ll be worse than it already would be.
I’m unsure what to do.
To keep Mom at bay, I text back quickly.
Me: Okay!
Mom: Remember pictures of the guy! I’m curious, ya know!
Ha. If only she knew. But then, it would be exciting to show Owen off. I know he’ll be looking mighty dashing when he picks me up. I can’t wait, and as silly as it sounds, I’m nervous.
Meanwhile, Jean has no clue and is a hoot.
“Why do you look scared? Do you not like your makeup?”
I shake my head almost violently, which is bad since she’s got a curling wand in my hair. “No! I love my makeup,” I insist, and I do. She did a sick-ass cat eye with silver glitter lining the black she used on my lid. She contoured my face like a professional, and I’m glowing all over the place. With a dark-red lip, even I find myself gorgeous. “I’m nervous.”
She laughs. “Nervous? He’s your boyfriend!”
“I know,” I say, sighing loudly. “I’m just worried he won’t like the dress or the way I look.”
Jean scoffs. “I promise you, he’s going to have to go change his pants from coming in them.”
We both explode with laughter, and the thought of Owen doing that pleases me to no end. He’s already home. He got in late last night after his game. I almost went to go see him. I miss him, but I refrained to make this date even more special. It’s trivial, I know, but since he’s excited, I’m excited. It’s all so silly. What am I even doing? I got a dress, a real dress, that shows my legs and arms and boobs, even! I’m getting gussied up like Owen said, and I’m excited.
This is bound to be a shitshow.
Thankfully, Jean is here to distract me.
“God, I love your hair. It’s so thick and beautiful,” she gushes, moving the wand through my hair to curl it. I don’t know how we became friends so fast, but we have. I love being around her. She makes me feel good, and she is funny as all hell. Though, I feel she may have some underlying issues that she doesn’t talk about.
I’ve become really good at noticing mental illness, and she ticks so many of the boxes for me. She is always moving, she picks at her nails, and she talks like no other. And it’s always a nervous talking. I know because I do it when my meds wear off. Her phone is always vibrating, and I suspect something is going on. At first, I thought it was her nanny job, but why would they call so much? Or maybe she’s a drug dealer or a sex worker. Really, she could do it all. She’s a boss chick, for sure.
“Thank you,” I say just as her phone rings. She makes a face, and finally, I have to know. “Do you have a boyfriend you haven’t mentioned who keeps calling to make sure you haven’t replaced him?”
She snorts, her dark hair in a high bun today and painted black lips. She’s wearing black shorts and a shirt with moons on it. She’s giving off a really cool, witchy vibe, and I’m digging it. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I am one busy lady.”