Page 7 of Country Contract

Although Meg finds all these great ventures for us, she isn’t into the oddities like I am. We like to think of ourselves as the typical opposites-attract-bestie duo. Where I am black, she is pink. Where I lack glimmer, she has it tenfold. Ihave black hair, she’s blonde. I love gory movies, and she loves romance. I keep her real, and she keeps me optimistic.

Today is rather gloomy with overcast skies. I’m sporting long black leggings with a mauve, slanted, sleeveless tunic-style top. It hangs loosely around my body, and a black corduroy tote hangs over my left shoulder, only holding my phone and wallet. The rest of the space in the bag is left open for possible purchases. On my feet are my classic black leather English riding boots. I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, but these boots are broken in and stylish.

I see Meg walking up the sidewalk, and it’s like the sun peeks through the clouds just for her. Her blonde hair is pulled up into an artful bun with a handful of curly tendrils around her face. Her lashes are painted, making her blue eyes pop, and the red lipstick on her lips looks absolutely divine. She is walking art. Her dress is a navy piece with a tiny floral pattern in white, and her shapely legs peek through the bottom.

When she comes up to my side, she looks up.

“Why do you insist on wearing heels when we’re together?” She pouts.

Meg stands at five foot two without her shoes, and with her flats today, she’s maybe five-three. So, with me being eight inches taller than her, I’m almost a foot today. Her height doesn’t mean she falls short; what I lack in curves she has an abundance. Full breasts, wide hips, and a soft, yet appealing, abdomen. She carries herself with a grace that anyone would fawn over.

“These are barely heels,” I remark. “I’m not going to stop wearing the shoes I like for anyone, even if you are my favorite.”

She smiles at my comment and loops her arm through mine.

“You didn’t have to wait outside for me.”

“I didn’t mind, it’s lovely out.”

“So, when is doomsday?” she asks as we walk through the doors.

The space is small and dim but has great lighting on each piece of art along the walls. It’s an open gallery, save for a few partitions with clip-on art lamps and pieces displayed. In the corner is a table with an array of lamps around it, drawing attention. Wine bottles are artfully displayed, and a small crowd gathers there.

“About two weeks.” I gesture to the wine table.

We walk in unison as if in a three-legged race to grab our glasses—mine red, hers white.

We walk slowly around the room, and nothing catches our eyes, but we have a lot to say about each piece. Since we were young, we liked to add our commentary on life. We’d even mute the TV to add our own dialogue.

“Have you cyberstalked him?” I ask as we sit on a bench in the middle of the space.

“What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t?”

“And?”

“Have you?” She raises a brow.

“I googled once, and then I felt guilty and stopped.” I had typed his name in the bar and there was a wealth of information at my fingertips. I could have so easily dug into the life they represented for him. That wouldn’t be fair, though; I don’t have a Google page. I’m not one of the city’s most eligible bachelorettes.

“Guilty? For wanting to know a little something about your proposed fiancé?”

“He’s not my fiancé.”

“We’ll see how this dinner goes.” She states it soofficially.

“So, you think I’ll actually like this guy?” I am suddenly so thankful for Meg and her ability to lack a conscience when it comes to digging into people’s lives.

“I think your parents are good at getting what they want.”

I purse my lips in response. She knows I want details on this guy, but she’s making me wait.

“He’s handsome as far as men go, nothing to write home about. A typical city businessman, but I know there is something that will bother you when it comes to his physical appearance.” She’s goading me.

“What?”

“You’re taller than him,” she offers.

“That’s hardly an issue, I don’t care too much about height. What are we talking, four to six inches?”

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