Page 322 of Small Town Firsts

"Are you nervous?"Stella asks, clipping my long hair into three even sections while she waits on her curling wand to heat up.

"Yeah. No. I don't know."

"But it's your first real date, right?"

"That's weird, right? That I'm eighteen and just now going on my first date?"

"I don't think so." She laughs as she releases the first clip and combs out the hair. "But what do I know? My brother sure as hell never let anyone take me out."

"Imagine that...you lost your V-card before you even went on your first date." As soon as I say it, a sobering thought pierces my heart. "Well, I guess we both did."

"Nope." Stella locks her gaze onto mine in the reflection of the mirror in her room. "No, ma'am."

I shrug. "It's true."

"Good vibes only. Today is a good day, and tonight is going to be even better, okay?"

"You think so?" I ask as she begins carefully wrapping sections of hair around the barrel of the wand.

"Yup. Physics says so."

"Physics?" I try to turn my head to look at her, but she pops me with the comb.

"Yeah. Like, you've had so many awful things happen to you, it's time for good. I'm pretty sure it's a universal or karmic law or something."

I can't help but giggle at her attempt to rationalize the universe. "You're a mess."

"And yet, you love me."

"More than you know."

“Do you want me to do your makeup, too?”

“No. I’ll do it. But you can definitely help me pick an outfit. I have no clue what we’re doing, so…”

“Babe. Say no more. I’ve got this.”

Stella darts out of her room and into mine, while I move to the bathroom to start on my makeup.

Since I’m completely in the dark about our plans, I keep my makeup neutral. If I still lived at home, my mother would have pushed for a heavier hand. She is of the belief that natural beauty doesn’t exist. Which probably explains why she’s so pumped full of silicone and injectables; the only natural thing about her is her selfishness.

When I join Stella in my room, it looks like a laundry-filled bomb went off—clothes are everywhere.

“Um. Stell.”

She half sighs, half giggles. “I know. I’ll clean it up. But I think I’ve narrowed it down.”

“Let’s see it.”

“Two options: casual cute,” she says, nodding to a pair of jeans and a sweater. “Or classy cute.” She gestures to a long-sleeved cotton maxi dress with a gauzy overlay.

“Jeans for sure.”

She steps out while I change, and after I’m dressed, I take stock of my appearance in my full-length mirror.

I look like me, only different.

It's not my outfit, my makeup, or my hair. It’s my heart.

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