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Her hands are moving furiously over her phone screen, tapping away a message that I’m sure Wes is glad that he isn’t able to hear in person. Her wrath is one that both Wes and I know not to be the object of. She lifts her head up in defeat. “I can’t go alone!”
I shrug. I don’t have any solution for her. The premiere is in two hours, and she isn’t going to find a replacement, or a cure for the common cold, in that short amount of time.
“It was for work anyway. Do you really need a date?”
“It’s a red carpet event! I’m not even working tonight. It’s just an invitation to the premiere. Rhylan Matthews’s premiere!” she says, emphasizing that it was very much Rhylan Matthews’s movie premiere she was attending. When her boss proudly presented her with an exclusive invitation, she squealed. He then shushed her and requested she keep it on the DL, as not everyone was extended the same invitation.
I nod, shrugging again, wishing I could offer more help than that.
“Wait,” she says with that sinister tone of a plan concocting in her head.
I look at her sideways while nervous for her next words. “What?”
“Youcan go with me!”
“What?” My face deadpans.
“Yeah! You can be my date,” she explains.
“Claire, no,” I start to protest. “I don’t even have anything to wear.”
My eyes scan her from head to toe, knowing that if I were to attend said premiere, I would have to fix myself to look something like Claire does right now. She looks beautiful naturally, and now, with a full face of makeup and hair styled in a sexy updo, she looks stunning. Her normally curly blonde hair is straightened to look sleek and clipped neatly to the back of her head. And her slender figure is displayed in a two-piece, skintight dress the color of peacocks, exposing just enough of her midsection for it to be sexy yet tasteful.
“It’s okay! You don’t even have to dress all fancy. It’s not the Oscars.”
I’m contemplating my decision, already leaning towards a refusal, when Claire walks over to my closet and starts rummaging through my inventory.
“I’m sure we can find something in here,” she calls out, elbow-deep in the accumulation of jeans and T-shirts, with the occasional sundress that I like to indulge in. “This is perfect!”
I turn to see what particular outfit she was able to find in my curated collection of clothing picked to my taste. She presents me with a red knee-length dress with thin straps, sleek and slit to the mid-thigh. My eyes widen, trying to figure out where that came from.
“It’s mine,” Claire explains as if she were reading my mind. “I completely forgot I had it here. Remember when we snuck out to see that band? I think they were called 100 Monkeys? I changed my mind last minute and wore one of your dresses instead.”
“I can’t wear that!” I protest.
“Yes, you can! It’s sexy and chic. And it’s perfect for this premiere,” she argues. “Here, just try it on.”
“Claire, I don’t know,” I answer, already going in through one of her ears and out the other. She pulls my arm and stands me up, shoving the dress into me. I have no choice but to give in to her demand.
I pull the oversized T-shirt I was wearing over my head as Claire holds open the dress, making it easier for me to step into it. She zips me up from behind, and we both look into the full-length mirror hanging off my door.
“Holy shit. Girl, that dress looks amazing,” she squeaks. “I’m not even kidding.”
I turn to the side to examine the full look and confirm the accuracy of her statement. While Claire has the height and svelte shape that’s built to model any look, I have the subtle curves that fill this dress. I remember the dress hanging loose on Claire’s slender frame. But on me, it’s form-fitting, clinging to my hips and exposing my silhouette in a flattering manner.
“Okay, but I can’t go out in this! I feel so exposed andnaked,” I protest to Claire. I already don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. Standing in front of a mirror with my best friend to prod my newfound appreciation for skintight dresses is one thing, but to be out in front of strangers is another.
“You look too good to waste that dress away in your closet, or mine when I take it back. Come on. And if you have a horrible time, I’ll take you out for milkshakes after. You wouldn’t want me to go alone?” Claire continues, pleading her case and giving me a downturned pout with perfected puppy eyes. I finally sigh, defeated and running out of excuses.
“Fine. I can’t be out too late though. I have work tomorrow morning,” I groan, reminding her of my responsibilities at the bookstore on the weekends. I slouch forward from the regret I’m already feeling from my decision.
Claire jumps with joy, clapping her hands and squealing. “You aren’t going to regret it! In fact, you’re going to be the one taking me out for that milkshake to thank me. And I promise to get you back home before midnight, Cinderella,” she states matter-of-factly.
I smile and roll my eyes at her as I slowly start digging in my closet for an appropriate pair of shoes to match my dress.
“I need to do your hair, and then we can work on your makeup,” Claire says. “You’re lucky I finished mine already.”
“Yeah, so lucky,” I respond sarcastically.
