Sweeter Than Fiction

Chapter Nineteen

Don

When Abby opens the door, I have to pick my jaw up off the ground from pure shock. I’ve never seen her all dolled up like this.

She may have gotten dressed up for her last date, but not like this. Now, her hair is perfectly curled, and she has makeup on—dark smoky eyes and red lipstick. My eyes move further down to her tight black dress and matching heels.

Although the outfit makes my cock twitch in my pants, the way she’s standing makes me wonder if she’s uncomfortable.

“Hi,” she greets.

“Hey,” I say. “You look…wow.”

Her cheeks blush a little. “Thanks.”

“Are you ready to go?”

She nods. “Yeah. Lead the way.”

As we make our way down the elevator and out the front door of the building, we talk about our days and make some other small talk. There’s an awkwardness between us that I can’t quite put my finger on. Abby seems completely out of her element.

When we walk outside, immediately, I immediately see Abby regrets her decision not to wear a coat.

Without even thinking about it, I take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says.

“I know. But what fun will it be if my date turns into a popsicle?” I smile.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, still looking embarrassed.

“I picked a restaurant a couple blocks away.” I look at her shoes. “Are you okay to walk?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m totally fine.”

There’s that word again.

I walk closest to the street and keep Abby on the other side of me. When she almost trips over a crack in the sidewalk, I take her hand in mine. At first, she squeezes my palm for dear life, but soon, I can feel her relax.

It doesn’t take long for us to get to the restaurant. It’s not a super fancy place, but they serve a little bit of everything. I didn’t plan on Abby looking like she’s ready for a night on the town.

Not that I’m complaining.

Once we walk in and get seated, we order a couple of drinks and look over the menu.

Still awkward.

It’s like there’s some sort of barrier between us that doesn’t seem to exist when we are at home hanging out.

Maybe this whole thing was a terrible idea.

After our drinks come and we order, I look at Abby who seems to be having problems with her contact lenses. She’s blinking like crazy and keeps almost touching her eye but then remember she has makeup on.

The entire table shakes as her knee nervously bobs up and down. Clearly, she’s not having a good time.

“Abby,” I begin. “Are you okay?’

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m great.”

I’m not buying it.

I lean forward. “Abs, this is me. I can tell something is wrong. Did you not want to come out with me?”

Immediately, her face changes. “No! I mean that’s not it. I definitely wanted to come out with you.”

“Then, what is it? Talk to me.”

She sits quietly for a moment, and I wonder if she’s going to even bother answering me. I’m surprised when she opens her mouth and immediately starts rambling.

“Look, Don, I know you are used to women who look like this when they go out with you, but this isn’t just me. A bobby pin is digging into my scalp, my contacts are swimming around my eyeballs, and I’m fairly sure this makeup is already giving me an allergic reaction. This bra is cutting into my skin, and it makes my boobs look way bigger than they actually are. I’m wearing a thong that’s so far up my ass, I can feel it in my esophagus.”

I have to stifle a laugh at her bluntness because she’s not finished yet.

“I’m nervous and uncomfortable. I wish looking like this made me feel strong and confident, but all it does is make me feel like a painted clown. I know you’re used to models, but I wish I was still in my leggings. All I can think about is how awkward I feel…and how all I want is for you to kiss me again. So, I’m just going to tough it out.”

At this point, I’m not sure if she’s still trying to talk to me or have an argument with herself.

She does her best to compose herself. “Really, I’m okay. Let’s just try to have a good time. I’ll stop being weird.”

Sure, we could do that. But I’m not going to make her spend a moment more being uncomfortable.