Well shit. I’ll bust out my ballgown then.
She wasn’t wearing a ballgown when she knocked on my door, but she was in a purple satin dress that barely hung from the dainty shoulder straps, low enough at the top and sides that I could very clearly see she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“You look great,” I said once I’d cleared my throat, and she smiled in a way that told me the effect had been intentional. I didn’t know what to do with that information.
“Thanks,” she said, swaying slightly so her dress flicked out to the sides, and I noticed she was in sandals.
“I hope you’re not wearing flats on my account,” I said. I’d never seen her in heels, but given how nice her dress was– I could tell it was bias cut from where I stood– I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d busted some out.
“Absolutely not,” she said, pushing past me into the hallway. “The biggest benefit of dating a short king is that it’s socially acceptable to not wear heels with a fancy outfit.”
“Short king? Really? I’m five eleven. And a half.”
“Sure, big boy.”
I laughed. “You need the bathroom or something? I’m ready if you are.”
She frowned at me as if I’d spoken in Klingon. “If you think I will ever walk into this house and not say hello to Ethel, think again.”
“Fair enough,” I said, standing aside for her. It was always nice to be reminded how much the Evanses loved Ethel, especially when I was so in the weeds caring for her.
I followed Amy into the lounge, where she bent over to hug Ethel, and yep, she was definitely braless under there. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, reminding myself that I only had that image because she was hugging mygrandmother.
We walked just a few minutes to the restaurant I’d picked out, discussing the fantasy festival, which she was also now slated to attend. Despite my existing workload, I couldn’t help but insist on making her outfits, too. She agreed, as long as I made her other outfit “way better than everyone else’s”.
When we got to the restaurant, Amy stopped out front before I could open the door for her.
“Phil, this place is really fancy,” she said, frowning.
“Don’t worry,” I tried to reassure her, “you look amazing.”
“It’s not that,” she said, waving me off. “Have you been here before? It looks a bit dead.”
I looked through the front window at the white tablecloths and the million and one utensils at each place setting. The food was really well reviewed, and I had been looking forward to the consommé. But I had to admit the atmosphere was non-existent, and I’d already had to prepare myself for the fact that it would cost us a week’s worth of my data entry work.
“No,” I said honestly. “Not usually my scene.”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
I shrugged, but I could feel my face going red, and I knew I’d missed the mark. Yet again, I was grateful for the beard to hide the flush.
“Because it’s our first date.”
“Of a fake relationship.”
That stung for some reason I couldn’t quite place, regardless of how true it was. Could I not put effort into hanging out with her just because she wasn’t actually my girlfriend?
“And plus,” Amy continued, “you’re not dating Blair Waldorf. You’re dating me. When have you ever seen me in a place like this?”
“I hate that I understand thatGossip Girlreference. That’s years of my life I’ll never get back.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re just mad it wasn’t Dorota. Now focus. Does this feel like what I would like?”
I considered that for a moment– I hadn’t actually been thinking about Amy at all when I’d chosen the restaurant. I’d been thinking about Chris, and his stupid slicked-back hair, and the fancy wedding stationery. If I’d been thinking about Amy, I might have thought about the quad biking and swimming and day drinking we’d done together over the years. But then again, I wouldn’t have picked Chris for that version of her, so what did I know?
“I don’t know what you like anymore,” I admitted, shrugging as I ran my hand over my beard. “Based on who you dated last, I suspect you got accustomed to a much higher dining standard than usual.”
Amy nodded. “You’re right. Chris took me to a lot of fancy places. And he always insisted I wear heels, even though he is actually shorter than you, because it made him feel powerful to have a tall woman on his arm. And he’d talkatme about work over meals like the one we would undoubtedly be served in there.” She pointed into the restaurant.
