Page 110 of Off Script
But my meditative state is interrupted when Harper starts hemming and hawing from the driver’s seat. “Oh, crap,” she mutters, giving me a side-eye. “One thing I should tell you…”
“Spit it out, Harper.” My command comes out sternly because my nerves are shot. I’m desperately hanging onto my sanity by a very thin thread, which is liable to break at any moment.
“She’s on a date.”
The thread snaps.
“What?!” I screech. Turning in my seat, I glare at Harper as jealousy rears its ugly head. “How serious is it?”
“Not serious! It’s her first date with some guy who she met on Bumble.”
I rub my forehead. “Jesus Christ, she’s already on dating apps?”
Grimacing, Harper shrugs. “That’s my fault. I made her a profile because you know the old saying: the best way to get over someone is to—"
“Don’t even fucking finish that sentence, Harper,” I warn as I grapple with my composure.
“Sorry, sorry! She’s been so sad and depressed since everything went down between y’all. I thought meeting other guys would help her move on and pull her out of this funk.”
“Stop talking and drive faster, Harper."
39
Carlisle
Earlier that day
Harper cajoles me from my comfy spot on the couch. “C’mon, let’s go!”
After sitting here for most of the past two months, I’m surprised there isn’t a permanent indentation on the couch cushions from my ass. That thought alone is enough to propel me to my feet and agree to go shopping before my date tonight.
How did I let her talk me into going on a blind date with some guy from a dating app?
Scratch that. I know how. She got me drunk on cheap white wine and then set up my dating profile after I passed out.
With a friend like Harper, who needs enemies?
“Fine. But I’m only agreeing because none of my clothes fit anymore.” It’s true. Despite my broken heart diet of alcohol and sweet treats and cooking daily for my recipe blog, I somehow lost ten pounds. As much as I love preparing food, I can’t stomach eating very much.
“Yay, let’s go!” Harper tilts her head and squints her eyes. “How do you feel about a haircut? Add some highlights too?”
I don’t hate the idea. Perhaps a hair transformation will help me leave the past behind me and move forward. “Okay, but no bangs." I draw the line at bangs. I'm not that desperate for a new beginning.
I received a surprise in the mail last week—a belated severance check from Staples King. It wasn’t much, but it was a hell of a lot more than I was expecting. I have no idea why they paid me off. Possibly Mr. King felt guilty for how he treated me? Doubtful, but I don’t have any other idea to explain it. I might as well spend some of that money on a new look.
“Great! Let’s get makeovers at Sephora while we’re out. Some new make-up to go with your new clothes and hair!”
After hours of Harper marching me from shop to shop and store to store to find the perfect outfit, get my haircut and colored, and buy new make-up, we finally return home, and all I want to do is take a nap. Unfortunately, I’m supposed to meet my date in less than an hour, so my bed will have to wait. The good news is that I have very little left to do other than change clothes.
“I’m going to go get dressed, Harp.” But before I head into my room, I pull her in for a hug. “Thanks for today and for always being with me through thick and thin.”
“That’s what friends are for, Car.” She releases me and then slaps my butt when I turn to leave. “Wear those new jeans tonight! They make your ass look hot!”
Rolling my eyes, I shut the door quietly behind me, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above my dresser. I’m taken aback by my reflection. I’m still getting used to the changes. My long, dirty blonde locks are gone, having been chopped off in favor of a long bob with lots of pale blonde highlights. The hairstylist tousled mynatural curls to create effortless, sexy waves. I run my fingers through my shorter hair, enjoying the way it feels.
I even like the bangs that Harper talked me into adding.
When we had our make-up done, Harper suggested that I go with a bolder look to bring out my inner badass, which I agreed to against my better judgment. Grabbing a tissue, I swipe it around my eyes to lighten the heavy, dark eyeliner. Fishing out my eye shadow palette from my cosmetics bag, I brush lighter colors over my lids. Most of my lipstick has already come off, leaving just a hint of the dark wine hue on my lips. Instead of adding more lipstick, I swipe on some nude gloss and call it good.
