Page 34 of Ten Rules for Faking It
“Still sucks for someone to treat you like he did,” Chris said.
Everly looked back at the screen. “Yes. It does. I like Owen for date one.”
Chris sucked in a breath and started to cough. Everly didn’t know what to do, so she handed him his water and just waited nervously to make sure he was okay.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice scratchy. He took the water. “You sound so sure.”
Giving him a wry smile, pushing down the tornado of thoughts in her head, she said, “It gets tiring to be so unsure all the time.”
His face was red and his eyes were a bit watery. “Okay, then. Owen, you have yourself a date.”
For the moment, she could smile. She was a great plan maker and often dreamed of traveling, heading out to a club to go dancing for a night, joining bingo—it wasn’t just for oldladies—but she always stopped short and canceled her plans. No canceling. She was doing this. Maybe doing things completely backward of what made her comfortable would help her figure out exactly where she was meant to be.
Or she’d have a panic attack, get hives, and stand Owen up. Time would tell.
[12]
Everly lifted the water bottle to her lips, grateful she was alone in her apartment so no one could hear the glugging sound of her swallowing. It was like she’d run a marathon in the heat, weighted down by blankets. She was sweating in too many places. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Sweating could be brought on by medical conditions. She just couldn’t think of which ones.Stop.Everly set the empty water bottle down. She pulled in a half breath because that’s all her lungs would allow.One. Two. Three. Four.She imagined her hand slipping out of Owen’s because of sweat.Stop. One. Two. Three. Four. Five, six, seven.She leaned against the counter, her lungs expanding. She’d been on dates before, so the level of anxiety pumping through her was unexpected.This one comes with a hell of a lot of pressure.
She went back to the bathroom, closed the door, and stood in front of the full-length mirror. Once she made it clear that she wasn’t wearing anything low-cut, see-through, sequined, or withanytype of feathers, Stacey had taken the shopping seriously.
Which was why she at least felt good about her appearance. She’d gone with a pair of dark gray pants and a thin, pale, pink sweater with a wide neckline. She’d have preferred black or gray, but Stacey wouldn’t negotiate on that one. The top hungfrom her slight frame nicely, enhancing what little shape she had. Stacey—who favored the curvy side—always lamented Everly’s slender shape, but there were plenty of times in her life that she’d have liked to fill out a top the way her friend did.Grass is always greener.
Her phone rang. She looked down to where she’d set it on the counter. Of course Stacey would FaceTime her. She pressed Accept.
“Let me see,” Stacey said, her face filling the screen.
Everly turned and faced the mirror so her friend could see.
“Good. Hair looks great down. You should wear it that way more. Subtle makeup. Add a bit of that gloss before you leave the house, and don’t chew it off. That sweater looks kick-ass on you. Your boobs look hot.”
Because I’m sweating everywhere.Everly smirked. “If only it were you I was trying to impress tonight.”
“Too late for that. Besides, you don’t have to impress anyone. Just be yourself.”
“I’m going to try to be a little less myself than I am right now,” Everly said, leaving the bathroom.
“Hives?”
“Not yet. Too much sweat.”
“It doesn’t show.” Stacey scrunched her brows on the screen. She wasreallylooking.
“Nerves, one to ten?”
“Twelve. I might be sick.” She touched her hand to her stomach.
“Look at me,” Stacey said, her tone sharpening.
“Stacey. I’m literally looking rightatyou.”
Undeterred by Everly’s sarcasm, she nodded. “That’s right, now listen to me. You deserve to have a bunch of good-looking, fun bachelors take you out and treat you right. This doesn’t have to go anywhere. Focus on tonight. Just tonight. The very worst thing that will happen is you won’t enjoy the evening, so you don’t go out with him again.”
“Wow. You really have not considered all the other terrible things that could happen.”
Stacey sighed, but not in exasperation. “Give it to me.”
“Okay. He could be a pervert, a weirdo. I said no face tattoos but he has other ones and might just be waiting for the right moment to shave his head and get his skull inked. He could have a girlfriend, a wife. Both. A slinky underwear fetish. You know I hate thongs. He could be duller than my Broadcasting History course was even though his hobbies included zip-lining and hiking. Oh my God, he could want to go zip-lining.”
