Seven
I went through every single possible outfit in my closet before falling backwards on my bed in defeat.
“I can’t do this.” I huffed. “I should just cancel now before he does.”
“Oh my god.” I heard my roommate’s voice from the doorway, scaring the shit out of me.
“Shyla! I didn’t know you were coming back yet.”
Shyla spent more time at her parent’s house these days than in the apartment. At first, I was terrified she’d up and desert me like Steph did and then I’d be stuck with a 2-bedroom rent payment. But Shyla assured me several times that she would not be moving out anytime soon.
So, eventually, I just embraced the fact that I had the apartment to myself most of the time.
“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t handle another night there. My brother would not stop going on and on about his girlfriend and I just couldn’t do it. So, if my parents ever ask, you needed me to come back because a pipe busted in our apartment.”
“Okay.” I answered, no problem. Shyla and I had become close enough to call each other friends but without all the work. It wasn’t the first time she’d used this tactic with her parents before.
“Thank you.” She clasped her hand to her chest out of relief. “Now, what in the hell is going on here? Did your closet just throw up in your room?”
I struggled to sit up, pulling one of the random tops to throw on over my bra. “Pretty much.”
“Okay, why?” She had her hands on her hips but suddenly turned to me and held up her hand. “Wait, did you get the interview?”
I slowly nodded. “Actually, I found out I got the job today.” I nearly squealed.
“Oh my god, Liz! That’s incredible! I knew you would.” Shyla reached out and gave me a hug. “But that still doesn’t explain why your clothes are everywhere.
“Because I don’t have anything to wear tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” She narrowed her eyes at me.
“It’s nothing, I should just cancel.”
“Wait a minute. Do you have a date?”
I dropped my eyes and fiddled with my fingernails.
“You have a date?” This time, it was almost a statement.
I nodded, still with my eyes down.
“Oh my god, please tell me its with that hot barista of yours.”
“He’s not mine.” I mumbled.
“But he is the date.” Now, it was a statement.
I nodded again. “But I don’t have anything to wear. I either hate how I look in it, feel like it’s not right for me, or it’s not right for a date.”
“First, those first two reasons don’t exist anymore, okay?
” Shyla’s hands were back on her hips. “Second, I’m here to help.
And you are going to look gorgeous in whatever you wear because you are gorgeous.
And I bet he’s going to be thinking the same thing too.
And third, you’re telling me the whole story and I’m going to help you find something to wear.
Now, first, I need you to help me find my way through everything. ”
I nodded and crawled off the bed, grabbing clothes and putting them back on hangers as she went through them. Some ended up back on the bed as ones she wanted me to try on for her and it felt like an endless task.
But I was more than thankful for her help. I would have called Brie over if she wasn’t out of town.
“It’s really not much of a story.” I broke the mostly silence.
“There’s always a story. Now, spill.” Shyla kept her attention on my clothes mumbling as she looked at each one.
I slowly proceeded to tell her pretty much everything.
Before this point, I’d mentioned him to her a few times.
Enough to where she knew I was definitely into him.
But now, I shared everything I could think of, like Alki beach, the quick smiles he’d flash at me on busy days where he couldn’t talk, to the times that he would take a break just to talk to me.
“Sounds like you to sure put on a good show.” Shyla chimed in after I told her about the kisses from earlier in the day.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Okay, I’ve got it.”
“Huh?” I looked at her in confusion.
“I’ve eliminated it down to these three outfits. You put the first one on and I’ll go grab us ciders from the fridge.”
“I’m not getting drunk before my date!” I called out to her.
“No, you’re not. You’re having one cider to loosen your nerves some.” She called back.
I slipped the first dress on that she’d picked out. It was one of my “not-so-bad” outfits I’d tried on somewhere in the middle.
“Now, that looks really good on you.”
“Does it?”
“Yes, Liz. Stop doubting that. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.” She stepped up behind me and looked at me through the reflection. “But it’s not the outfit for tonight. I forgot to ask, what are you doing for the date?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. Just that he had it all planned out.”
“Damn that guy is good!” Shyla surveyed the other two options. “Try this one on. I have another idea.” She handed me another dress, this time shorter and more playful than the last longer black dress.”
“Okay.” I shimmied out of the first dress as she darted out of my room and into hers. I’d just gotten the dress on when she reappeared.
“Hm.” She looked me up and down and my eyes went wide. “This outfit is for whenever you two have that raincheck beach date.” She gestured to the dress.
“But it’s not right for tonight?” I guessed.
“Nope, but I promise you, this last outfit is it. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. It’s perfect.”
She grabbed the last outfit on my bed but tossed the shirt to the side. “This is it.” She held out one of my skirts that I hadn’t been brave enough to wear to work yet and one of her own shirts.
“No, no. I can’t wear that skirt.” I’d been too terrified of it earlier that I hadn’t even tried it on.
“Yes, you can.” She thrust them towards me with eyebrows raised like a mother could only do.
“Okay, but I’m telling you, this won’t look good on m—”
Shyla cut me off. “No. Nuh uh. Remember what I told you before? There is no such thing as something not looking good on you. At least not in this household, okay?”
I chuckled and accepted the clothes. With a heavy sigh and a long swig of the delicious pear Schilling cider, I gathered my nerves and proceeded to change. Shyla busied herself with cleaning up the rest of the clothes to give me privacy.
I slipped the skirt on, hopping slightly to get it over my butt. “My ass is too big for this skirt.”
“That’s impossible.” Shyla turned, and I gave her a small turn so she could see. “Damn, girl. If I was gay, I’d be all over that kind of ass.”
I laughed, trying to hide the way my cheeks burned from the compliment.
I took another look in my floor length mirror and thought to myself, “I can do this. I love this skirt and I should really wear it. Hopefully, he’ll like it too.
” The skirt wasn’t short or pencil thin.
But it did cling to my curves—in what I finally decided was a good way.
There was a slit about halfway down my thigh on the left side and I was more than thankful that I’d shaved everywhere as soon as I got home.
One wrong move and I’d probably be showing far more than a bit of thigh.
I smoothed out the skirt, zipped it the rest of the way and went to find the shirt Shyla had brought me. When I held it up, I immediately said, “No. Not happening.”
“What?” Shyla played dumb.
“First, I don’t have a bra to wear with this.”
“Then don’t. It has enough padding. That’s how it’s meant to be worn.”
“N—no bra?” I stuttered.
“Yes, Liz.”
“Well, it’s too low cut. I don’t have the stomach or cleavage for this.”
“Again, it has padding. And that padding perks everything up—whether it needs it or not. And I swear, you have got to stop beating yourself up! Liz, you are a gorgeous woman and I hate that you can’t see that for yourself.
You hide yourself away because you’re so worried people are going to think that you’re…
” She trailed off but I knew what she meant. “But you’re not.”
I nodded quickly then slowed down, deciding I’d at least try it on. “Okay, I’m not promising anything, but I’ll try it on.”
“Good. I’m going to go get your straightener and I’ll do your hair, if you want.”
A flood of relief washed over me. It was getting dangerously close to six p.m., and I needed a good thirty minutes to walk to the coffee shop without getting too sweaty. I almost regretting asking to meet in the middle.
“Yes, please. Any help I can get.”
“When is he picking you up?”
“I’m meeting him at the coffee shop at 7.”
Shyla paused in my doorway and pulled her head back in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but did you just say that you are walking to the coffee shop?”
“Pretty much.”
Shyla shook her head.
“What? I wasn’t ready to tell him where I live and besides, it’s a place we know each other really well.”
“I’m driving you. End of story.”
I opened my mouth to argue but gave up immediately. I was more than happy to accept her offer.
She disappeared and I slipped off my bra, took a deep breath, and turned away from the mirror to put the shirt on.
Shyla was back before I was able to turn around so all I saw was her jaw dropping. “Holy fucking shit, Liz.”
“What?” I started to freak out and spun quickly to look in the mirror.
“Adjust your boobs some and it’ll be perfect.” She suggested.
I did just that and stared hard at the reflection in the mirror. I couldn’t believe it. I felt good in this shirt. Hell, I felt confident with a touch of sexy. She was right.
“I told you so.” Shyla smirked at me, as if reading my mind.
Sure enough it was low cut. It dipped all the way down to the bottom of my sternum. But damn if she wasn’t right about my boobs. They were perfectly perky and created cleavage that I could only dream about.
It had thin straps instead of sleeves and I was still anxious about that.
I never wore sleeveless shirts. Never. But everything else outweighed that one insecurity.
The rest of the shirt flowed freely around my stomach and waist without making my stomach appear any larger than it was.
Plus, with the skirt pulled up close to my belly button, it was doing all the work of spandex without having to wear that constraining shit.
“Okay, stop staring at yourself for just a second and sit down.” Shyla had pulled my desk chair behind me and had my straightener in her hand, ready to go. “Now, I gotta be honest about something.”
“What?” I looked up at her reflection with wide eyes.
“Shit, nothing like that. I was just going to say that I’m nervous as hell that I’m about to be the one that does your hair.”
“Why?” I was confused. She always looked great with any hair style.
“Because you are a trained cosmetologist. You’ve been doing it for years. You literally went to school for it.”
“Shyla.” I stated sternly. “You have nothing to worry about. Just the fact alone that I trust you to touch my head—especially when getting ready for a date of all things—should tell you that I have faith in you.”
Shyla smiled and her shoulders dropped in relief. “Well, good.”
“Can you hand me my make-up bag? I want to get started on my face while you do that.”
“Do you want me to help you with that too when I’m done with your hair?”
“If we have time, sure.”
She handed me the bag and I rolled the chair closer to the mirror.
I took my time doing my make-up as she used my straightener to curl my hair. It sounded redundant but actually, it was the only way I could ever get my hair to hold curls. Hell, I used the technique too on some of my clients who had the same problem.
Finally, I’d gotten my make-up about as perfect as I could try and Shyla had curled my hair, brushing it out slightly with her hands so it would be a bit more casual without losing too much shape.
After a few deep breaths, I slipped on my favorite dressy pair of flip-flops—I was not a heel kind of girl—and Shyla and I made our way to her car.
By the time on her dashboard, we were cutting it close.
There was some traffic heading to the coffee house and my nerves were firing on all cylinders.
“Don’t worry, okay? It’s customary for one person to be a little late. Plus, it won’t be more than five minutes.”
“Maybe I should walk.”
“Have you felt the humidity in the air today? Your hair will stand on end and then drop so flat, neither of us could do anything to fix it.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I nodded but it didn’t squander my nerves any.
By the time we pulled up to the coffee shop, I’d gone through every possible bad scenario. But when I saw him, standing outside the front with a small bouquet of flowers and his other hand in his pocket as he bounced on the balls of his feet, I felt a wave of relief flush through me.
“Oh, Liz! He brought you flowers! And look, he’s just as nervous as you are. Now, face me one last time.”
I did as she asked, and she gave me a once over. “Everything is perfect!”
I stepped out of the car and smoothed my skirt. It was more for me than for the skirt. I did not want to go up to Sean with sweaty hands.
My heart was thumping so heavily that I couldn’t hear anything else as I made my way to Sean.
“Holy shit, Zette.” Sean’s jaw slacked and he gave me a long onceover before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help that. You look incredible. I mean, you always do but…” He trailed off, like he’d fucked up or something.
So, I decided to let him know he hadn’t by reaching up and wrapping my hand around his neck so I could pull his lips to mine. It was a short but intense kiss and when we parted, I whispered, “Thank you. You look good too.”
Sean smiled, not holding back. “Are you ready? Oh, these are for you.” He held the small bouquet out to me, and I gasped when I saw the flowers he’d chosen.
“Is it—is it okay?”
“I don’t remember telling you my favorite flowers.”
“You told Natalie one day when we had a few of them in a small vase. She brought them in and after you left, she told me right away.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you remembered that.” I spun the bouquet of peonies around, looking at each one.
“Of course I did.”
I felt my heart flutter and wanted to pinch myself. This couldn’t be real. This was already the best date of my life, and it hadn’t even started yet.
“Okay, so what’s this big plan of yours?”
“I want to take you to my favorite restaurant. But first, I should ask if there is anything you won’t eat.”
“Not really. I mean there’s some things but nothing that would knock out a whole restaurant, I think.”
“Good.” He took me by the hand and led me to his car. It wasn’t anything over the top, but it was nice. He kept it in good shape.
Sean opened the passenger door for me and waited until I was fully in before shutting the door. The conversation to the restaurant—that happened to be in West Seattle—was light. As if we were both just trying to keep our nerves under control.