“No, that’s not it. I just don’t want to wear one. I think I walk funny in dresses.”
“You walk funny in jeans, your argument is invalid.”
“Whatever. What else?”
“Okay, you can wear jeans, but they need to hug your ass. None of those old Levi’s you wear.” She moved a few hangers around and pulled off a pair of dark blue jeans that looked like they’d only fit around one of my legs.
“Now we need a top. Do you own a strapless bra?”
I didn’t. Why didn’t I have a strapless bra?
“No. I don’t think so.” Disapproving of my obviously shitty inventory of undergarments, she shook her head at me. Then she paused and ran into her bathroom.
“Does this fit your boobs? I bought it a while back, but it was a little big. If it fits you, it’s yours.”
I sat up holding the new bra.
“Are you serious?” Sunny was really saving my ass. I could have kissed her. After all, she did know my name.
“Yeah, I’m serious, go make sure it fits before I pick your top.”
I jumped up and ran into her bathroom. I threw off my T-shirt and unhooked my bra. I fastened the strapless one in front and then spun it around as I pulled it up and over my boobs.
“It fits!”
“Oh my God. You’re going to be so hot in this,” she said as I returned, having put my clothes back on. She tossed a really pretty silver knit tube top onto her bed. It was almost white at the top and it faded into a shimmery silver at the bottom. I’d never worn something like that. I had a swimming suit cover up that was strapless, but other than that, I usually had straps, or sleeves, for that matter.
“I don’t know, Sunny.” I was suddenly even more nervous.
What if the clothes made me uncomfortable and I was more awkward than usual? Oh God, what if it fell down? Or I did something wrong and my tit flew out?
She sat next to me as I folded the jeans and the top.
“Do you like him?”
“Yes,” I confessed.
“Do you want to look special tonight? Not that how you look every day isn’t special, but Mutt, you’ll look so good tonight in this outfit. And here,” she popped up and grabbed her white jean jacket out of the closet, “you can wear this over the top, that way you won’t be cold. And it’ll cover up your shoulders. You can just slip it off when you’re eating or something. Trust me.”
She was sincerely trying to help me, and she always looked so nice and put together. Not overdone, but fashionable. If there was anyone I trusted to tell me if I looked like a weirdo, it would be her.
“I do want to look special tonight. It’s our first real date. Fuck, it’s my first real date, period.”
“See. This is something he sure as hell will remember you wearing.” She chuckled a little and added, “And if you like wearing it, maybe then you’ll want to go shopping with me in Browning next time I go.” Then she clapped her hands and shrieked again.
She was really excited. On the inside I was too, but on the outside it was like my skin was going to rattle right off my bones from the nerves.
“What about your hair?”
“What should I do?” If I was committing to her vision of a special me tonight, I might as well go all in.
“I think you should wear it down. I like it when you let it dry all wavy. It’s really pretty like that.” Well, hell, that was easy. Inside I felt a little bit of pride in knowing that it was natural—just me—and she liked it.
“Really, just let it go?”
“Yeah, I would spend a lot of money for the way your hair looks when you do it like that. No ponytail. Not tonight. You always do that, let it dry, and then wad it up on your head. Leave it alone tonight. And I say keep your makeup simple too. You have great skin and pretty eyes. Just some smoky eyeliner and mascara and some tinted gloss.
“I don’t have tinted gloss.” I could probably manage the mascara, but smoky eyes? I doubted I’d look much different than a raccoon. “And show me how to do that eyeliner.”
She gave me a toothy smile and clutched her hands over her heart. “Mutt, I’m so excited for you. He must be something special if you like him. He better be a nice guy.”
“I think he is.”
I hoped I wasn’t wrong, but what were the odds of people staying, long term, with their first real date?
Slim to none.
Still, I wasn’t a *. I wasn’t afraid to tackle something head on. Putting myself out there for him was dangerous, but deep down I knew it would also be a risk worth taking.
After she showed me how to do the eyeliner—which she said gave me fuck face, but in a good way—she gave me a few different gloss options, shoes, and some perfume I’d always liked.
I went home feeling like maybe, just maybe, he’d like what he saw. If nothing else, he’d have to notice I’d tried to put a little work into it.