Chapter 7 Getting Ready
Getting ready
Abby’s phone pinged. She wiped her hands on the dish towel and grabbed the phone from the counter, briefly seeing Tinker’s name before the notification disappeared.
She stared at the blank screen. Their date was that night. She hadn’t heard from him since Naomi had agreed to go out with him on her behalf.
Was he confirming or canceling? Why didn’t she know which one she was more nervous about? Her thumbs hovered over the screen.
Mmmm…I don’t have time for this. She set the phone face down on the counter.
All through finishing breakfast and getting ready for work, she ignored the heavy presence of her phone. Just there, within easy reach, his text waiting to be read. It was ridiculous, but it was like she’d been handed Pandora’s box. As soon as she opened it, she wouldn’t be able to close it.
She had first period free—she’d read it then. Decision made, she tossed the phone into her purse and tried to forget about it. Easier said than done. As soon as the last student filed out of homeroom, she closed the door and rushed to her desk, fingers itching to open the text.
I was told to let you know we’re going to Lavender and Sage for dinner.
That was it. That’s what she’d spent all morning stressing over.
“You are such a dork,” she whispered.
Her thumbs wiggled over the screen while she tried to figure out how to respond.
Okay was too impersonal.
Can’t wait was…just no.
She settled for:
Thank you. I like that restaurant.
Simple, polite, agreeable. In no way, shape, or form, easy.
This was so stressful. She was not cut out for this. Tony had pursued and wooed her. At the time, she’d described it as a whirlwind romance and she’d been swept off her feet. Many years of therapy later, she knew it by a different name: love bombing.
Maybe this way wasn’t easier, but it was smarter.
Her phoned pinged and this time she checked immediately.
You’ve been there before?
Once for a friend’s birthday. You?
No. Dani & Angie recommended it.
Are you in class?
No. I have this period free.
Her phone rang almost immediately. She bit her lip and answered. “Hello?”
“Hey.” His voice was low and deep.
She sank into her chair and spun so her back was to the door. “Hi.”
“You don’t mind me calling, do you?” he asked.
“No. I wouldn’t have answered if I couldn’t talk.”
“Good.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. “Why did you call?”
“We haven’t actually talked. I was surprised you messaged me.”
She cringed. “I, um, have a confession. That wasn’t me. My friend Naomi messaged you, pretending to be me.”
There was a moment of silence. “But you didn’t cancel.”
“No,” she said softly.
“I get it if you feel pressured by your friends. Do you want to go to dinner?”
“I do,” she said. “I would have explained and canceled if I didn’t.”
“If you’re sure,” he said.
“I am. I would like to have dinner with you.”
“A’ight. I’ll see you at six.”
A thought occurred to her. “Wait! Are we riding your bike?”
“Do you want to ride on my bike?”
Her mind flitted through the MC books she’d read and the implications of being on the back of a guy’s bike. She didn’t know if it was true or his mindset or if she even wanted it to be his mindset. Or true.
“I need to know if I should wear pants.” What a lame excuse.
“Nah. I have a car. I’ll see you tonight.” He didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye.
It was oddly disappointing he had a car. The thought of pressing close to his back, wrapping her arms around him, feeling the heat of his body and the vibration of the bike under her was…was…damn it. It was arousing.
She was too busy banging her head on her desk to scrub her dirty, dirty mind to hear the door open.
“What are you doing?”
Abby looked up to find Lindsey staring at her with concern.
“Trying to knock some naughty images out of my brain.” She rubbed the middle of her forehead.
Lindsey grinned. “Naughty images of a hot, sexy biker guy you’re going on a date with tonight?”
Abby glared at her. “Is there a reason you’re here?”
“Yes. I know this is your only free period today. Naomi and I will be at your house right after school to help you get ready.”
Abby returned her phone to her purse and closed the bottom desk drawer it was in. “I don’t need help getting ready. You’re coming over to ooh, ahh, and giggle when he picks me up.”
“Well, duh.” Lindsey left as the bell rang, indicating the end of first period.
Abby rolled her eyes. Goddess save her from well-meaning, interfering friends.
“I think she should wear the blue one.”
“That’s too dowdy. She should wear the red one.”
“That is one-hundred and eighty degrees from dowdy. She should not wear it on a first date.”
“She should absolutely wear it for a first date. It screams available.”
“It screams fuck me.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh yeah. I see your point. You should wear the red one, Abby,” Naomi said.
Abby stood in the door of her ensuite bathroom and shook her head at her friends arguing like the fairies from Sleeping Beauty. “No.”
“Oh, come on,” Lindsey said.
“A, the red dress is too much for Lavender and Sage. B, the only time I wore it, I was so uncomfortable the entire night I couldn’t enjoy myself.”
Naomi looked at the dress in question, hanging on the back of Abby’s bedroom door. “Why do you still have it if you’re not going to wear it?”
“It’s an expensive freaking dress. I don’t want to throw it in the donation bin,” Abby said.
“You should take it to Second Chances. They do consignments,” Lindsey said.
Abby went back to the mirror to finish her makeup. “I keep meaning to.” If she had a dollar for all the things she kept meaning to do, she could retire.
“What are you wearing?” Lindsey asked.
“Classic little black dress.” She swiped on a coat of mascara and stepped back for a critical review. The shades of shimmery gray made her light brown eyes pop. She always felt they were her best feature and kept her from being too Plain Jane.
Average height. Average boob to hip ratio. Average brown hair. But depending on how she wore her makeup, her eyes could be the color of caramel or as dark as whiskey.
“You’re not wearing the dress you wore for last year’s showcase, are you?” Lindsey asked.
Abby left her bathroom and made a sharp turn into her small walk-in closet.
She shut the door and pulled the garment bag from the far corner.
Reverently pulling the dress from the bag, she prayed it still fit, because despite Naomi and Lindsey’s argument about what she should wear, the blue dress was too dowdy.
For one moment, the zipper stuck but then kept going as far as she could get it. She let out a sigh of relief. It was a little tighter in the bust than she remembered, though.
She slipped into her strappy heels and opened the door for the big reveal. “I need one of you to finish zipping me up.”
“Sure.” Naomi hopped off the bed while Abby turned her back. “This is Dior.”
“Yes,” Abby said over her shoulder.
“This is vintage Dior. Did your ex get this for you too?”
“God, no. It was my grandmother’s. Mom is too tall for it, so she gave it to me when Gran passed.”
She turned to face her friends. “So? Too much? Too little?”
“Just right,” Naomi said. “You look like Audrey Hepburn.”
“You are so getting laid tonight,” Lindsey said.
“Not the point of this date.” Abby grabbed the clutch from the end of the bed and checked the time. Tinker should be there soon.
“Then what is the point?” Naomi asked.
“To rip off the Band-Aid. To get out there and start living life again.”
“That’s sweet,” Lindsey said. “But you should add getting laid to the list.”
“For the love of—” Abby threw up her hands and left her bedroom.
“All I’m saying is orgasms release endorphins and endorphins make you happy.”
“Well, if that’s all it takes, I’m releasing plenty of endorphins on my own,” Abby said.
The doorbell rang.
“Ooh, he’s here!” Naomi clapped her hands. “Are you going to bring him in and introduce us?”
“Hell no.”