Page 46 of Ancient History

“Can you come upstairs?”

Raleigh groaned, but still followed up to my room, where a tornado of outfit choices waited. Piles of clothes were strewn across the bed. Other outfits that hadn’t made the cut flopped on the floor. Never in my life had I had this much trouble figuring out what to wear. Guys were supposed to have it easy in this department, I thought.

It was a piece of cake for Raleigh, who wore a fitted, sleek gray T-shirt and jeans.

“Jesus.” He took in the surroundings, stepping slowly like he entered a crime scene. “Is that a twin-size bed? We gotta level you up, bro.”

“It’s on the to-do list.”

“I just stepped back in time, man.” He laughed as he found his way to the Fall Out Boy poster hanging above my desk. “I totally had that poster in my room, too.”

I bet he didn’t have a crush on Pete Wentz, though.

“Can I get your opinion on outfit choices?” Raleigh wasn’t my first choice for fashion advice, but he was the only one I had. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. No offense to Pop whose fashion evolution stopped in 1988.

“Are we really doing this? It’s a small party at someone’s condo. I doubt anyone will even be doing a kegstand.” He plopped into my desk chair and wheeled himself in circles.

“Hey, this is my first social function in a while. I want to look nice.”

“We’re guys. It’s not rocket science.”

I ignored his logic, my mind scrambling with other thoughts. “Well, it’ll be a quick decision then.”

I threw on option number one, a black polo and dark jeans. I checked the collar and my hair in the mirror on the door.

“What do you think?”

Raleigh bounced a pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “It looks fine.”

“Fine how?”

“I don’t know. Fine fine. Those are clothes one would conceivably wear to a party.”

“That’s all you got? In your designer gray T-shirt?”

“This was a gift from an ex-girlfriend. I can FaceTime her if you want her opinion. You look fine. Here, watch this.”

I turned back to the mirror before Raleigh could wow me with his pencil-bouncing prowess. “Okay. I look fine. Cool.”

I sat on the bed to put on my most unscuffed sneakers.

“However.”

I whipped my head up.

“What do you mean however?”

He teetered his head, much like the pencil had been moving.

“What’s with that look?” I asked. He turned up his nose as if he’d smelled garbage.

“It’s very basic.”

Oh,nowhe was going to start being a Project Runway judge? I stopped in mid-knot with my left shoe. Why was I even listening to Raleigh? Ninety percent of his wardrobe were South Rock Football-branded shirts.

“Basic isn’t good,” I said. “I can’t wear something basic.”

“What message are you trying to send with your outfit? Because that says nothing.”

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