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NATALIE: I don’t negotiate with terrorists.
AMY: LOL
Looks like I have plans tonight. I shoot an apology text message to Yia-Yia explaining the change of plans to which she replies with a “get it girl” meme, making me laugh. And then I focus on the next problem in front of me:
What am I going to wear tonight?
*****
I arrive at the bar early, finding us a table close to the alcohol and far away from the DJ booth. Hopefully, this means we’ll be able to hear each other talk. With nothing else to do while I wait for my friends, I order a glass of white wine and scroll through my phone. Anything to look busy and not single and desperate.
“Nat!” I look up to see Amy and Lilly strutting through the bar. Well, Amy is strutting; Lilly is tugging uncomfortably at her skirt, a short leather mini-skirt that she was clearly forced to wear. Knowing a bit about Lilly, she seems the type to opt for jeans and sneakers—that is, comfort—over the stylish outfit she has on tonight.
“Hey guys.” I hug them both, taking in how beautiful they both look, even in this dim light. Amy’s tall model-like frame is shown to best advantage in an electric blue body-con dress, which hugs her curves and shows off her long, toned legs. Her hair is dead straight, parted in the middle, hanging like a luxurious curtain down her back. Lilly, in contrast, is petite, curvy in all the right places and looks sweetly sexy in her mini-skirt and tight black V-neck top. Her wild curly hair tumbles around her shoulders and her bright blue eyes pop on her pale face, made to look bigger with expertly applied (by Amy, no doubt) eye make-up. Next to these two stunners, I feel invisible, totally pale and boring in comparison.
“I’m so happy you’re here. Amy convinced me to come out tonight by telling me you’d be here.” Ah, the subterfuge has been revealed. “You look gorgeous,” Lilly continues to gush while Amy orders them a couple of cocktails. I look down at my outfit—tight-fitting black jeans and a sparkly silver top—and the compliment makes me glow. I may not be supermodel material, but I’m not a troll to look at when I put in some effort.
I push my glasses back up my nose and smile. Lilly is so warm and inviting. I love hanging out with her. “Thanks! You look amazing.”
She pulls a face. “Amy made me wear this.” We laugh at how disgruntled she sounds.
“You can’t leave the house in your pyjamas, Lil!” Amy says, placing our drinks on the table between us.
“Says who?”
“Society?!”
My eyes bounce between them, seeing their years of love and friendship on obvious display. Next time, I need to bring Bianca to one of these nights out. She’d fit right in with these two.
“Fine, whatever,” Lilly grumbles, not acknowledging that Amy did her a favour by forcing her out of her comfort zone. She looks hot and has the eyeballs of every man in the bar on her. Not that I think she notices; from the small amount of time we’ve spent together, I suspect Lilly has a sizeable crush on Amy’s older brother Oliver. It’s unspoken, but very much there if you look closely enough.
“What’s Oliver doing tonight?” Case in point. Lilly asks this question in such a disinterested manner that it shows us just how interested she is in the answer.
Amy smiles at me. We’ve both spoken of this situation often; Amy firmly believing that Oliver likes Lilly back, but they’re both too oblivious to do anything about it. It’s fun to watch.
“I’m not sure. Why? Do you want me to ask him to join us?”
Lilly blushes fiercely, and I nudge Amy with my elbow.
BE NICE, I mouth in her direction.
She shrugs. I think she’s dying to play matchmaker and get her two favourite people together.
“No!” Lilly gulps at her cocktail. “I was just wondering…” she trails off, her eyes darting around the bar, and I take pity on her.
“What about you, Amy? Any eligible suitors on the horizon?”
Amy taps her lips, thinking. “There’s this one doctor at the hospital. I’ve seen him in the cardiology department but don’t know his name. He’s hot though.”
“Ooh, you should totally go out with him.” Lilly’s face is lit up like a Christmas tree. “It could be just like Grey’s Anatomy.”
I need to introduce Lilly to my Yia-Yia. They have a lot in common.
“Lilly, that’s a made-up show for TV. What we get to do in real life? Not glamorous at all.”
I nod emphatically, picturing the explosive diarrhoea and gagging slightly. I’ve been scarred for life.
“Not glamourous, unless you have a celebrity patient…”
