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Avery continued like I hadn’t said anything. “I think I’ve figured out what you should wear,” she motioned to an ensemble spread out on my bed. Funny, I hadn’t even noticed it.
“I think you should go simple but sexy. Just give him a taste, you know. We don’t want to show him all the goods up front,” she rattled, grabbing her breasts for emphasis. “So, I was thinking these jeans,” she stood beside me and pointed to them. “Paired with your yellow tank top, and this loose gray sweater, that’s mine,” she said, like as if I didn’t know that sweater wasn’t mine. “And,” she backed away, “I just bought these shoes, but since you’re a sister in need, I’ll give them to you.” She bent down, skimming through items on her closet floor, and pulled out a pair of black bootie high heels. They laced up the front and had three rows of studs on the side. “Since you said Trace had that whole bad boy thing going on,” she shrugged, “they’re perfect. What bad boy could resist these babies?” She held them up for my inspection.
“I’ll die in those,” I scoffed. “But they look amazing,” I reached for one.
Avery shrugged and handed both to me. “If you fall, make sure Trace is there so he can help you up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Woman, you are ridiculous.”
“It’s in the How to get a Guy Handbook,” she grinned.
“This handbook sounds stupid,” I joked.
“Hey,” Avery raised her hands in front of her chest in mock defense, “I’m the one actually having sex, so it must be working.”
“Whatever,” I laughed, “we’ll do it your way.”
“Good,” Avery grinned manically, “poor Trace Wentworth doesn’t stand a chance.”
???
I looked at myself in the floor length mirror on Avery’s side of the room.
I don’t know how she did it, but I actually looked good.
My jeans hugged my legs and hips in all the right places. The small portion of the yellow tank top that showed, made me look like I still had a tan, from the summer. The gray sweater looked casual, like I wasn’t trying too hard. And the shoes? Oh, the shoes. They made the whole thing come together.
Avery clapped her hands together. “I told you so.”
“Yeah, you did,” I agreed, smoothing a hand down my leg. “But are you sure I don’t look, you know, too fixed up,” I fingered the end of the fishtail braid Avery had done. I had insisted on doing my own makeup. If I let Avery do my makeup I’d end up looking like I had my face painted on.
I turned around just in time to catch Avery rolling her eyes. “You look hot. Stop worrying about everything. Tracey-poo won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”
I made a face of disgust. “You did not just say Tracey-poo.”
“I do believe that those were the words that left my mouth,” she winked, before looking in the mirror, and swiping on another layer of her favorite lip-gloss. If she put on one more coat, her lips would stick together.
She had curled her red hair so that it hung down her back like a shimmering curtain. Despite the fact that it was autumn, and definitely not warm outside, she was wearing a pair of high waisted shorts with ripped black tights underneath. The shirt she wore was red and glued to her body, covered by a pale jean jacket with studs on the shoulders. Her high heels were super pointy and could double as a weapon. I definitely wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those spikes.
“Alright, we can go now,” Avery gave her hair a final fluff and then looked me over.
“Great,” I snapped. “Maybe, we’ll get back in time, and I won’t be late for my afternoon class.” It was already close to noontime.
“Oh puh-lease, Livie, it’s not even lunchtime,” she bent to retrieve her purse.
I pouted. “Don’t remind me, I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”
“You’re such a baby,” Avery scolded. “Seriously, chillax.” She rummaged through her purse and produced a Special K Bar. Holding it up proudly, she waved it through the air. “Here is your breakfast.”
“That cardboard hardly constitutes breakfast,” I grumbled, but snatched the bar from her hand anyway. I ripped open the wrapper and began nibbling on it.
“Don’t be dramatic,” she dragged me behind her and down the stairwell.
The glass double doors opened to the campus grounds and I was happy to see that it was a sunny day. The past week had been full of bleak, overcast, gray skies.
I unlocked the doors to my beat up Ford Focus and Avery eyed it like it was the grossest thing she’d ever seen. She constantly looked at my car like that, but it had always been reliable. At least, until last night, but it wasn’t really the car’s fault for getting a flat tire. It was mine. No, it was the nail’s fault. Better yet, it was the person’s fault that lost the stupid nail.
I brought up directions to Pete’s Garage on my phone, and pulled out of the campus parking lot, into the morning traffic.
