* * *
“Stay still,”Corrie scolds. “I’m trying to work some magic here.”
“Okay.” It’s hard to stay still because I’m full of energy, so excited about tonight. It’s just a night out at a pub, but I feel like a new woman tonight. A good outfit is a powerful thing. It can completely transform someone, make them believe they’re someone they’re not, make them believe in possibilities.
She’s working on my eyelids. “Do you have a soft pink lipstick?”
“Nope, I just have red.”
She sighs. “No worries. I’ll lend you mine. A soft pink lip looks fabulous with a smoky eye, and tasteful too. If you do the red with smoky eye, you end up looking like a tramp.”
I smile. “But I thought that’s what we were going for.”
“Now stay very still…” she commands as she pokes at my eye with an eyelash curler. “There’s a big difference between sexy and trampy,” she explains. “There’s nothing sexier than understated. That’s why those booties work… they’re classy, but also alluring.”
I stay very still as she finishes up my eyes. Then she completes the whole look with a few swipes of lipstick.
She stands back a foot or two and studies me for the longest time. A playful smile curves her lips. “Gorgeous.”
I turn to my vanity mirror and see the final result. I look amazing. She’s already styled my hair in loose bouncy curls, parted at the center of my forehead in a sexy seventies inspired style. “Wow.”
“Wow is right,” she says. “We better make sure your phone battery is charged. We’ll be taking lots of pics.”
I roll my eyes, brought back to her master plan – it all seems a little juvenile. Yet… I’ve always been a good responsible woman; my apartment is always organized and perfect, my clothes pressed, my taxes done ahead of time. I want to be carefree, frivolous and a little juvenile for once in my life.
I want to have a bit of fun.
* * *
The pub is already packedwhen we walk in. It’s exactly how I remembered it; vintage beer posters and sports paraphernalia on the wood panelling, wide screen TVs hanging from the ceiling, paper coasters, napkins and French fries littering the floor, old-school rock mixes, the clink of bottles, and lively chatter. The usual crowd is here; locals in plaid shirts, worn jeans, miniskirts and heels. The busy bar centers the rowdy space; a few beers on tap, glassware and a rainbow of liquor bottles line the shelves. Regulars sit on the old tattered bar stools. Spanky, a real-life Santa Claus, still mans the bar.
My gaze darts around, looking for someone I know. It feels strange to be here, in a hole-in-the-wall pub in a tiny town – it’s so not my scene, or Peter’s. I shake my head. I’m not going to think about Peter tonight. I’m just going to have fun.
“This place is adorable,” Corrie cheers.
I laugh. “I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.” I turn to her and flash her a grin. She looks amazing in torn skinny jeans, a Def Leppard t-shirt, and black high-heeled sandals. Her hair is down, and her eyes are smoky too. It’s not her usual look, but it certainly works for her.
We make our way around the bar toward the back, and that’s when I spot them; Mandy, Blake and Jeff (Blake’s best buddy), and another guy I don’t know. They’re shooting pool, playing teams. Blake is up – he’s always been a good shooter. I shamelessly ogle him – he’s changed. He’s always been tall, but he’s filled out. His arms are thicker, and his chest wider. Even his butt and legs seem bigger. He must have gained a good thirty pounds, and I hate to admit it but it looks good on him. And the beard… oh my. He was always clean shaven when he was young, and he looks so much more bad-ass with the facial hair. I didn’t even know I liked beards, but apparently I do. And then there’s that tattoo on his arm – a fish. I’ve never seen it before, but the guy is obsessed with fishing and owns a tackle shop, so it doesn’t surprise me.
He leans in for a shot and swiftly turns to me, as if he’s known that I’ve been standing here all along, shamelessly ogling him. I jerk my gaze away but it’s no use – I’ve been caught. I turn back to look at him again, and he’s wearing a playful smile that says,I caught you, Freckles.
He turns his attention back to his game. He’s on the eight ball and it seems like a relatively easy shot, but he misses. I gain surprising satisfaction from that – maybe I’ve rattled him a bit.
“I can’t believe you used to go out with that, and you never let him pop your cherry,” Corrie quips.
I nudge her in the ribs. “Shut up,” I scoff. “Besides, I was a different girl back then. I didn’t even know what sex was all about.”
She snickers. “And now that you do, you’d totally let him have his way with you, I bet.”
I smile.Totally… yes, in an alternate universe.“Never in a million years… he’s a dick.”
“Too bad I can’t have a go.”
I shoot her a sidelong glance. “No, you can’t.”
She laughs.
Mandy finally notices us, and as soon as she does, she hops over, squeals like a five-year old. “Yay! You’re here.” She swoops in for hugs.
