Page 81 of Outlaw Heartstrings
Who is this woman and what has she done with my mother?!
I’m most surprised at the fact that, when I told her I would be spending time with Easton tonight, she didn’t try and talk me out of it. She didn’t say much at all. If she’s not going to interrogate me about going to dinner with my sister’s supposed baby daddy, I’m not going to volunteer any information, either.
We’ll cross that awkward bridge some other time in the future.
I stand at the door for a few moments, collecting my thoughts. But then I get my butt moving, heading to my room.
I need to get ready for my date with Easton.
Oh my god. My date with Easton.
Squee!
Although I probably shouldn’t call it a date.I don’t really know what to call it.Ourjust-for-practice make-him-work-for-it friends-with-benefits spice lessons, maybe?I don’t know. Whatever it is, I am determined to look good tonight.
But the more I sort through the options in my closet, the more nervous I get.Damn. I have nothing to wear.
I try on outfit after outfit, feeling less certain after each one. I start taking pictures of each different look, sending them in my text message thread with Jules.
Me: HELP! Which one should I wear tonight?
Jules: Sry babe. None of the above.
My insecurities skyrocket. I send her a string of bawling emojis.
Me: Come over
Jules: Oh, damn. Sorry. I’m at work now. I can’t come over.
Shit.I’m in this on my own.
Then another text comes through from my bestie.
Jules: Hold on. I have an idea.
I keep one eye on the clock as I continue trying to pull together a decent outfit. But I’m running out of time. Easton will be here soon and I still look like a mess.
My stomach is coiled into a tight ball when I hear the doorbell ring. I rush to the door, ready to tell Easton that this was a bad idea and to call the whole thing off.
But it’s not Easton standing on my front porch. It’s Laney.She’s holding a cluster of garment bags in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“Fairy godmother to the rescue!” she announces.
I almost fall to my knees in gratitude. “I thought you were at work,” I squeak.
Laney shoulders her way past me, dropping the clothes on my bed and then marching in the direction of my kitchen. “My shift just ended. I was driving home and Jules called me.”
I clasp my hands over my pounding chest. “You guys are the best.”
“That’s what friends are for.” She pours herself a cup of stale coffee from my coffee pot and pops it into the microwave. Then she directs me to my bedroom. “Come on. Let’s Cinderella you up!”
Laney’s presence eases my nerves, and getting fancied up sort of becomes fun. Exhausted after her twelve-hour shift, my friend is guzzling shitty coffee while she does my makeup and curls my hair and buffs my fingernails. I pour myself a big glass of wine and let her work her magic, pretending I’m not silently freaking out.
“So, give me the details. Did you finally come to your senses and realize that Hockey Hottie is the one for you?” Laney asks as she plucks at an errant eyebrow with her evil tweezers.
I flinch in pain where I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. “Hardly.”
“Then why are you going on a date with him?” She frowns.
