Chapter Two
CHARLIE
September 2012
Jeremy: Meet me by the stairs out front. I’ll be there in 5.
I grin to myself.
I shouldn’t be this elated about going out on a date with a guy who I know hooks up casually with any girl that flirts his way. But I can’t help it. The excitement that races through me at the sound of a simple text from him is more than I’ve felt in terms of excitement for a date since Hamilton Sowell asked me to the prom.
And I can’t for the life of me figure out why I’m so damn giddy. He’s clearly the most attractive guy that’s ever asked me out, by like, a mile. But I don’t know if it’s just how hot he is. I mean, I get asked out a lot, and I usually say yes, as long as the guy peaks my interest with his looks or his humor.
As horrible as it sounds, sometimes I say yes just because I like chatting with new people. When you meet new people, there is usually some genuine interest in getting to know each other. And I love that look some guys get when they seem to eat up every word I have to say.
I sigh as I watch myself in the mirror.
Even thinking things like that makes me feel like a self-centered asshole. I guess when you grow up never getting to be yourself, even the smallest amount of attention is like throwing a match onto gasoline.
But this date with Jeremy feels… different than the others I’ve had since I started dating. And I can’t figure out why.
I finish adding my lipstick in the mirror on my dresser, where I’ve been standing for the past hour working on my hair and makeup. I love this stuff. I love the way it looks and the way it makes me feel. After spending my junior high and high school years under the watchful eye of my mother, who had very particular tastes about appropriate makeup – muted colors, light mascara and definitely no eyeliner – the freedom of being away at college has been such a breath of fresh air. I love being able to do it up the way I want.
And this maroon lipstick I got on sale at MAC is fuckingboss.
I finish slicking it on, dab a bit onto tissue paper, then smile to make sure nothing’s on my teeth. I move over to the full-length mirror that hangs on the back of the door and give myself a once-over. I’ve always been one of the girls that can put in just the right amount of effort to look good without looking like I’m trying too hard. Today, I didn’t find that balance and I am totally okay with it.
I have outdone myself.
My hair falls in curls and waves down to the middle of my back in that “oh, I’ve just come back from a day at the beach, but I have a personal stylist who takes care of my hair, so no worries” look that graces so many magazine covers.
My makeup is flawless.
My skinny jeans have the right amount of rip mid-thigh on my right and at the knee on my left, and while they might be too short because I bought them at a thrift shop, my choice to cuff them above the ankle and pair them with a pair of dark green ankle boots makes it look intentional. A black and white striped shirt and a green jacket, and I know I’ve got a great first date look.
I quickly remind myself that I shouldn’t expect this to be the first of many. That’s probably unlikely.
But a girl can dream.
I put in some faux-pearl earrings, spritz myself with some body spray and grab my bag, then head down to the lobby to wait for Jeremy.
I’m walking out of the building when he pulls up. I take a few steps down as Jeremy climbs out of his midnight blue Ford Bronco. It’s an old-school ride, and Ilovehow he looks climbing out of it. Tan jeans, purple button up, black keds, silver watch, hair neat and tidy but slightly askew in that look guys have when they look like they’ve been running their hands through it.
And a gorgeous smile aimed right at me.
“Hey there, pretty girl,” he says as he gives me a perusal. “I have to say, you look absolutely breathtaking.”
My chest tightens at his use of the word. I’m used to being the hot girl. It might make me sound like a bitch, but I can’t help genetics. But, breathtaking? That is not a word men use with me. Or at least, not a word the boys I’ve spent time with have used. I’m sure I blush from head to toe.
He walks towards me and takes my hand with a smile, then leads me around to the passenger side and opens the door.
I touch his shirt collar before I step into the bronc. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself, sir.”
He bites his lip and I force myself to turn away and climb in, setting my bag at my feet.
Once we’re on the road, I turn in my seat to look at Jeremy. “So, where are we headed? All you said was dressy casual.”
He smirks and flicks the blinker, merging us into the lane that leads to the freeway. “Wouldn’tyoulike to know?”
