Train Me Daddy

I colored deeply. “I mean, yeah, I do,” I said softly. “But I want more than that. I want to get to know him.” I swallowed – a lump had been forming in my throat ever since Thomas had first asked me on a date. “I don’t just want him to think that I want him for sex.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “You’re so principled,” she said with a snicker. “But fine, point taken.” Tossing the black cocktail dress on the floor, she started combing through her closet once again. I sat awkwardly on her bed, watching as Angela fumbled with different dresses and outfits, all while making noises under her breath.

After what felt like an eternity, Angela turned to me and held up a green silk dress. “This would be so pretty with your eyes,” she said. “And you’re so pale, you’d look really pretty.”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know….”

“What?” Angela rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“It’s low in the bust.” I blushed. “I don’t want to make myself look slutty.”

“June!” Angela sighed loudly. “Come on. It’s a gorgeous dress.” She walked closer and dropped it in my lap. The rich silk slithered down to the ground and I picked it up, gazing at it with skepticism.

“Just try it on,” Angela encouraged. “Come on. For me?”

I

sighed. “Fine,” I said. “But I’m not making any promises.”

Angela grinned. “You don’t have to,” she said cheekily. “Just try it on and have a look.”

Although the dress looked big, I had a hard time getting it on and zipping it up myself. When I looked in the mirror of Angela’s bathroom, I gasped.

“What? What’s wrong?” Angela came rushing in before I could stop her. “June, what happened?”

“Nothing,” I said. I couldn’t suppress my smile any longer. “It’s perfect.”

Angela grinned. “I told you,” she said.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my reflection in the mirror, even though I knew that was vain. The green silk perfectly set off my green eyes, pale skin, and black hair. I didn’t look like June Rogers anymore – I looked like a real woman, someone confident and sexy. The dress wasn’t overly complicated – just a simple, sleeveless A-line. But it made my waist look nipped in and the skirt billowed around my legs, making them look shapely and much smaller than I was used to seeing.

The kind of woman who would be perfect for Mr. Thomas March.

“You’d really let me borrow this?”

“Oh, my god, yes,” Angela said.

I cocked my head to the side. “This had to be expensive,” I said, fingering the folds of the skirt as it swished around my hips. Somehow, the silk had a sensual feel that made me feel…sexy.

“I don’t care, I know you’ll take care of it,” Angela said. “Besides, you’re my best friend. I want you to succeed.”

I threw my arms around Angela and hugged her tightly.

“You’re the best,” I said softly. “And I won’t forget it.”

Angela grinned. “I know,” she said.

We burst out laughing. At least I could always take comfort in her. No matter what happened with Thomas, I’d still have my best friend.

June

Friday seemed to take forever. After school, I rushed home and gave myself a quick manicure and pedicure, in pale pink, my favorite color. Angela had taken the dress to the dry-cleaners, and it was hanging on the back of my door.

I nervously killed two hours watching reruns of television, barely even paying any attention. The second the clock hit seven, I wriggled into Angela’s dress, then applied two coats of mascara, lipstick, and a little blush. When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe the girl I saw.

I just hoped Thomas would like her, too.

At twenty-five past, I spritzed on some perfume, grabbed my clutch, and shoved my feet into a pair of Angela’s black patent platform pumps. Her feet were slightly bigger than mine and for a moment, I wobbled nervously as I walked into the foyer of our apartment. I’ve got this, I thought, trying to stay positive. I can do this.