I close the door behind me. It sounds like what I imagine glitter falling sounds like. Where did she even get these? We’re not even close to Christmas.
“Why is your door not locked again?” Her voice came from her room and it’s the first place I check. Except the room is empty.
“You are the only person coming today. I didn’t see the point.”
I follow her voice to the bathroom on the opposite side of the room. “I know you don’t think anything will happen to you out here, especially with your family around. But…you never know.”
“You worry way too much.” She laughs. “How did you like my bells? It’s practically a warning system for when I forget to lock the door.”
“They are definitely loud. Did you have to search through the Christmas decor to find them?”
“Actually, I stole them off a wreath I found in the closet.”
The wreath she’s talking about comes to mind. She found it on the curb because someone was throwing it out. It’s hideous, but she hung it on her door for the holiday season because I dared her to. She tried putting it on my door, but I shot down that idea as soon as she voiced it.
“I can’t believe you still have that thing.”
She shrugs as she applies her lipstick. “Me either. I actually forgot I had it until it fell after I moved a box.”
This bit of information doesn’t shock me. She always moves things around and unearths items from the past. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if her house isn’t a time capsule. I’m pretty sure it would tell the history of our friendship.
Now she’s putting on mascara. This is more than she’s ever done when we’ve gone out to dinner. Not that it happens often. We like to get food and bring it home because we can drink cheaper on our couches.
“What’s with all the makeup?” I hope like hell she doesn’t take it the wrong way.
“We’re going on a date?” Her statement comes out more like a question, and uncertainty flashes across her face.
“Yeah, but it’s still just me.” Not that I mind. I’ve seen her when she’s dressed to the nines for a date. The last thing I wanther to do is think she has to go through all this to impress me. She’s been doing that since we were teenagers.
“It’s still a date.” She grins and her reflection in the mirror is breathtaking. “And I occasionally like to get dressed up. Believe me, it’s not all about you.”
“Okay then.” I hold my hands up in surrender. She’s not wrong. I’ve seen her put on makeup and do her hair only to sit on the couch and binge watch whatever TV show has her interest at the moment. “You look great by the way.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink.
I wonder how long I’ve had this effect on her, and how I’ve never noticed. To be fair, she’s always been great at hiding her emotions. It’s one of the things she’s excelled at since she’s the youngest of six. Even though she almost always got her way, she never wanted to do anything to tip the boat.
“I’m going to wait in the living room.” I point my thumb over my shoulder. Crowding her is the last thing I want to do, and that’s what this feels like. She has a process when she’s getting ready to go somewhere. Just because we’re officially dating doesn’t mean I should be encroaching on that.
“That’s cool. I’ll be ready in ten. I just need to find my shoes.”
A small chuckle comes out of me as I turn toward the door. The office at Starlit Fields is incredibly organized. Not a paperclip out of place. But her closet…that’s an entirely different story.
It’s like there are two versions of her. One that allows herself to be carefree in her own space, and the other completely aware of where everything is. Everything in my professional life and home is slightly messy. It’s clean, but cluttered. Bad habits I picked up from my parents and I’ve been working to fix for years.
While she finishes getting ready, I head to the kitchen. For some reason nerves are setting in. This is the first time we’vebeen out and about in Asheville since we became official. I kind of understand why she’s getting ready, and going all out. It’s almost like an armor for her.
When we were in high school, she’d come to school with a full face of makeup and her hair curled. It was how she showed up to take tests or do anything she was afraid of. I guess it made her powerful and like she could accomplish anything.
I wonder if it was something she picked up in the intro to theatre class we took. It was a blow off class for me. Anytime we did shows, I would work on the tech side. But she loved stepping into a new character. She could be anyone she wanted without any fears.
I wonder how her life would have turned out if she’d stay in theatre classes. If she would have left Asheville for good. Or, if she would have stayed to fulfill the obligation she feels toward her family business. I guess we’ll never know.
I grab a bottle of wine and a glass. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone. The need to force my nerves to settle down is not something I anticipated. I take a sip and let the sangria work its magic through my nervous system.
“Oh, I didn’t realize we were starting the night early.”
The wine sloshes in the glass as I jump. A quick check confirms none of it spilled on me.
