by Jo Michaels
“I think I do, yes.”
“Then we gotta make you look hot as hell.” Lilian cut the engine, snagged her purse, and headed for the house.
All Simone could do was follow, her bag clutched tightly to her side, one hand rubbing the ridged cover of the leather book inside.
Though Simone had seen it once before, Lilian’s closet was still awe inspiring. It was bigger than the living room of the apartment and stuffed to the hilt with clothes, shoes, and purses. She threw the handbag of the week on the bed and pranced into the organized chaos, plucking things off racks. Handing them over, she told Simone what went with what and to try them on.
Some of the stuff still had tags on it.
“Don’t you ever wear these? They’re gorgeous!” Simone held up a pink sparkly top and leather skirt, wondering how comfortable she’d be in something so expensive and flashy.
“I told you. I don’t get to go out much.” Plopping down on the bed, Lilian threw two pair of shoes on the floor and shrugged. “But when I do, I’ll be well prepared!” She laughed. “Go ahead! Put it on.”
Gingerly, Simone put her bag on the floor and pulled off her clothes.
Lilian gasped. “Tell me that’s not the underwear you’re planning to wear!”
“It’s all I have.”
“Oh, honey, are you in for a treat.” She bolted off the bed and ran back into the closet, returning with black, lacy, sheer undergarments, and threw them at Simone.
Those, too, still bore their tags.
Her face warmed. Never in her life had she dreamed of wearing something so scandalous. Thinking about it made her feel like a little kid poking through a parent’s lingerie and giggling because of how wrong it seemed.
“This is what older girls, who aren’t yet grandmothers, wear. Now, out of those granny panties and that utilitarian bra!” With a smirk, Lilian crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.
Simone stripped, ripped the tags off the new stuff, and put it on, being careful not to damage the delicate fabric.
“Now look.”
She turned toward the full-length mirror, and her mouth fell open. It was sexy, that was for sure, but she wasn’t positive she needed all the glitz underneath pretty clothes. There was no way she’d be getting naked with Tristan on the first date.
“It’s not about sex.” Lilian walked up and put her hand on Simone’s shoulder. “It’s about your confidence level.” Their eyes met in the mirror. “If you feel pretty, it radiates off you.”
While the articles did make her feel a little more beautiful, she still wasn’t sure about wearing things meant to be on display. Confidence was one thing, but it seemed to her as though such things could lower inhibitions at the same time. If she were wearing the granny panties, she’d be a lot less likely to want to get naked.
“I dunno, Lilian.”
“Trust me. Take them. Even if you don’t wear them on the first date, you’ll want them at some point.” With a smirk, Lilian returned to her place on the bed, keen-observer and opinion-giver face back on.
Surrendering the argument, Simone put on a series of fifteen different outfits, spinning in a circle first and then gazing at herself in the mirror.
“Stop! That’s the one!”
She’d just donned a white, off-the-shoulder blouse with a deep red ruffle around the top and a pleated, lacy skirt that hit her right above the knee. When she turned to look in the mirror, her breath caught. It looked amazing. Her eyes fell to the tags, and she nearly choked when she saw the price. “Lilian! I can’t! This is so expensive!”
“Oh, honey, you can, and you will.” Back into the closet Lilian went. She returned a moment later with a pair of low wedge heels the same color as the ruffle. “Here. Put these on.”
Simone did as she was told and stood in front of the mirror once again. It was the most grown up she’d ever looked. Her heart told her that was the perfect outfit for her first date. Overcome with emotion and gratitude, she turned and flung her arms around her friend, thanking her profusely.
“You’re more than welcome. I know we haven’t had a ton of time to spend together, but now that your mom’s better, I’m hoping that’ll change.” Pushing back, she smiled. “Work friends are one thing, but I’d like to hang out with you outside the breakroom more often.”
“I’d like that, too.” Simone couldn’t help but smile back.
“Besides, you need someone to help you with your social life. Not that I have a ton of room to talk, but I do have friends. Hopefully, I’ll get to introduce you to them sometime soon.”
As she was turning around one more time, she caught a glimpse of a small white backpack with red poppies all over it. She walked into the closet, picked up the bag, and slung it over one shoulder before walking back out.
“Yes! It’s perfect!” Lilian clapped her hands.
Yes, it’s the ideal size to hold my book.
After changing back into regular clothes, Simone stuffed the gifts into a shopping bag the girls found and followed Lilian back out to her car.
“Thanks again,” Simone said.
“You’re so welcome. Anytime!”
They chatted as they drove back to the store so she could pick up her car. When they got out, they hugged, and Simone promised to call and spill all the details of the date once it was over. She watched as Lilian drove off, grateful to have found at least one friend amongst the chaos that had become life.
As soon as Simone walked through the door, her mother started.
“Where’ve you been?”
“I went to Lilian’s house for a little while after work.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Why didn’t you? I have a cell phone.” Simone’s anger flared. She was eighteen and hadn’t had to check in with anyone for a long time. Before she completely lost her mind, she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. When she peeked, she found her mother’s eyes glued to the bag of clothes. “What?”
“Where’d you get all that stuff?”
“Lilian loaned me a couple of things.”
“For?” Yvette’s face was red.
“I have a date tomorrow night.”
Her mouth rounded, and her eyes went wide. “Oh!” A smile started to bloom, but it stopped before teeth showed. She narrowed her eyes. “With who?”
Simone’s feet got hot, and the warmth traveled up her body to her face. “Tristan.”
“Oh! Honey! That’s wonderful news! He’s such a nice boy.” Yvette let the grin return. “Where are you two going?”
“To the movies.”
She actually squealed, jumped up and down, and clapped her hands.
All Simone wanted to do was go to her room and panic for a little while. Watching her mother act like a teeny-bopper in puppy love was a killjoy. Questions were bound to start flying. “Can I go to my room now?”
“I wanna see what’s in the bag first. We can’t have you going out with Tristan looking like a two-dollar hooker, now can we?”
“Fine.” With zero fanfare, Simone opened the bag and dragged the outfit from the depths, holding it up for inspection.
“That’s super cute and not slutty at all.”
“Who do you think I am? I just wanted to look good, Mom.”
“I know, but I’ve seen that Lilian girl.” Yvette pulled one side of her mouth back into her cheek and tilted her head to one side. “It’s not that I don’t trust you; it’s that I don’t trust someone else not to push their agenda or style on you.” Her eyes bulged when they landed on the lacy lingerie. “What’s that?”
“Mom.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Why are we playing twenty questions? I’m eighteen! Most girls start wearing this stuff by the time they’re sixteen.”
“Girls who wear things like that intend for them to be seen, Simone!”
“And? What if I want them to be seen?” Simone snipped. Deep down, she was boiling. She didn’t w
ant Tristan to see her naked—hell, she didn’t want anyone to see her naked—but it was the principle of the thing. It was hurtful that her mother had no trust in her daughter to make good decisions.
Yvette blanched. “I… You!” She shook her finger but paused and took a breath, blinking rapidly. “You’re right.” It seemed all the fight drained out of her, dragging her shoulders and hands down with it. Her face softened. “I need to trust you. I’m sorry. You’ve been making your own decisions for a long time now.”
For reasons Simone couldn’t fathom, she felt guilt tripping over her. In her mind, she had every right to be pissed off, and her mother should have apologized. But it seemed so wrong. “Mom, I wasn’t gonna wear them. Lilian insisted I have them just in case I wanted to.” Why am I defending myself? Rather than press on, Simone dropped the bag and enveloped her mother in a hug. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“Ditto, kiddo.” Yvette sniffed and pulled away, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “At least you’ll be doing something that’ll take your mind off that damned book, right?”
Simone tried to keep her face straight as she nodded. “Right.”
Seconds crawled by the next day. Every time Simone looked at the clock, she swore it had gone three minutes backward. So, she paced, tried to read, and attempted to watch television. Nothing kept her attention from the clock very long. Rather than sit around and twiddle her thumbs, she painted the nails on them a lovely shade of red to match her top and heels. All her other fingers got lacquered with black and white. It was a pleasing effect, and it had the bonus of killing about an hour without allowing her to obsess.
At five, she went to her room and stripped to her skivvies. Her eyes flitted to the pretty, lacy underthings sitting near her date outfit, and she chewed her lip, agonizing over what to do. Resolution kicked in, and she picked up the new bra and panties and tossed them in a drawer before pulling on the skirt and blouse.
She applied a little blush, a hint of mascara, some brown eyeliner and eyeshadow, and then swiped the wand of her favorite cherry lip gloss over her bottom lip, pressing it to the top one briefly. After running the brush through her mouse-brown hair, she nodded at her reflection and went to the living room to wait, heels dangling from one finger, backpack with the book in it swinging from the opposite hand.
When she sat on the couch to wait, a feeling washed over her, and her eyes filled with tears as the weight of uncertainty settled on her shoulders. Blinking the moisture back so her mascara wouldn’t run and mess up the whole evening before it began, she pinched herself on the leg to be sure she wasn’t dreaming.
It hurt.
Before she could stick her face in a paper bag, two sharp raps on the door echoed through her chest, sending her heart into her throat. She got up, tripped over the edge of the carpet, banged her toe on the end table, grabbed her foot, and hopped to the door, tears threatening again. Three deep breaths, and she flung the door open so hard, it smacked into the wall with a bang, the knob leaving an indent in the drywall.
“Damn. Sorry!” she yelled.
Tristan’s eyes were wide, and he had a grin on his face as he watched her fumble and apologize.
They stood there a long time, staring at one another, his fingers fiddling with the petals of the roses in his hand.
Finally, he thrust them toward her. “These are for you.”
She knew her freaking face was flaming red; she could feel the heat all the way to her ears. When she grabbed the flowers, something jabbed her palm, causing her to jerk her hand back. “Ow!”
“Oh, no! They told me these had the thorns removed.” Tristan was cradling her palm a moment later, rubbing his thumbs over the lines as though the action would somehow magically heal whatever was wrong. “Are you okay?”
Face still hot, Simone nodded as she took a step backward, pulling her fingers free. “It’s okay. Uh, do you wanna come in for a minute? I need to put my shoes on.”
“Sure.” He stepped across the threshold and panned his eyes over the room.
Her instincts told her to shove him back out the door and lock it, that he was a threat to the fragility of her heart, but she smiled and gestured to the kitchen. “I, um… I don’t really have a vase, but you can stick those in a glass of water while I finish getting ready, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure.”
As he walked toward the cabinets, she wondered if the whole night was going to be that awkward and if he had a vocabulary beyond the word “sure” outside the restaurant. Quickly, she put her shoes on and grabbed the backpack with the book. Her feet made little ticking sounds as she made her way to the kitchen.
Tristan was unwrapping the flowers, his back turned toward her. Since he was so engrossed in his task, she took the opportunity to admire him. Dark jeans that rested right on his hips; a green-and-black, untucked, button-down shirt; and a nice pair of brown shoes was what he chose to wear, and she approved. He looked sexy as hell—especially from the rear.
When her eyes traveled back up his body, they met his gaze and that damned infuriatingly sexy smirk he always seemed to be wearing. She gulped and turned her face away, praying she wasn’t red again but knowing she was.
“You look amazing.” His voice was suddenly close to her ear.
Too close. She hadn’t even heard him move. Every word pushed a light puff of air over the tender skin of her neck, and she shivered.
“Thank you.” She managed to get the words out, but the creepers running rampant through her stomach and over her skin because of his proximity were making her lightheaded. And he smelled so damned good. “You look great, too,” she whispered, pretty sure date protocol dictated a return compliment. Gooseflesh rose on her arms as she inhaled the aspen scent that clung to him, and she closed her eyes.
“You ready to go?” he mumbled.
Nodding, she opened her eyes, keeping them on the floor. His shoes were inches from her own. If he touched her anywhere, she was positive she’d drop dead on the spot, so she was more than relieved when he moved toward the door and pulled it open.
“My lady.” He swept his arm in an arc and bowed.
That was the moment the tension disintegrated, and she found herself laughing at corny jokes he interspersed in discussion as he drove to the theater. It was a pretty good ride into the city, so they spent most of the time joking and talking about their favorite subjects in school and their friends.
His favorites seemed to be crazy stories about the antics of a guy nicknamed Junebug. By the time Tristan pulled into the theater parking lot, Simone was doubled over, near tears. She was all smiles when he opened her door, offering her assistance. Once the bag was securely over her shoulder, she placed her hand in his and hopped out of the little Toyota truck, feeling like a child sneaking candy when their mother wasn’t looking.
They got two sodas and a big bucket of popcorn loaded with butter.
He asked her to grab a handful of napkins when they passed the holder, and she complied, stuffing them in the gap between her drink and hand. When they got to the ticket taker, Tristan’s eyes widened as his face turned a lovely shade of pink.
“Could you… Ahhhh…” Thrusting one hip out, he motioned to his pocket. “My hands are kinda full.”
If there was any way to avoid touching him near there, she would’ve taken it. Her hand shook as she reached for his front pocket and gently slid her fingers in, probing for the pieces of paper. Tingles zinged over her arms and into her stomach when she felt his thigh through the thin fabric, and his smell overwhelmed her. Everything in her wanted to be closer, wanted his arms around her, wanted…
A soft puff of air hitting her in the side of the face snapped her out of it, and her fingers clutched the tickets, pulling them out and praying her cheeks weren’t giving away her emotional state.
As always, he had a crooked grin plastered to his face, but that time, his eyes were smoldering.
She couldn’t catch her breath, but she forg
ed ahead, passing over the tickets with pulsating hands. It was all she could do to keep from tripping as she followed Tristan down the hall and up the steps to their seats. Her bag went between her body and the armrest on the side opposite his, and she helped him by holding the popcorn while he got situated.
A couple of the kernels fell over the side when she handed it back.
He put his hand to his chest and gasped as though scandalized. “You know, in some countries, losing good men causes wars to break out.” Bucket on his lap, he reached over and grabbed her hand, holding it between both of his. “We should take a moment to honor the fallen.”
Simone was giggling as she leaned forward and gazed at the popcorn on the floor.
Tristan said a few words, released her, winked, and sat back, scooching the bucket closer so she could reach it.
It was a long movie, and she was on edge the whole time, waiting, wondering if he’d try to kiss her or hold her hand.
He didn’t.
That brought on a whole slew of new worries. Nerves that had gone dormant with the chatter and joking suddenly roared back to life. Most of the action in the film was missed as she sat there with her head full of questions. Running through every possible scenario left her exhausted, and when he stood up to leave, she was surprised to find the theater nearly empty.
“You ready?” He extended a hand.
Startled, she looked around, grabbed her backpack, and then placed her hand in his, rising to her feet.
They walked back to the truck in silence.
“You’re not really saying much. Did you not like the movie?”
“Oh! No. I mean, yes! It’s not that. Sorry.”
“Am I a terrible date?” That grin of his was back, but his eyes held something akin to sadness.
“No. You’re a wonderful date. I had a great time.” Simone felt like a complete asshole. She knew she was making him uncomfortable, but she didn’t know what she could do about it. Tell him the truth!
“Then what’s up? Do you already have a boyfriend or something?”
“No! Why would you ask that?”