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When Harvey asked me out, I was excited. I had never been asked out before and Harvey was attractive and nice. He had the bluest eyes and blond hair that was always styled to perfection. He was on the football team, the debate team, in all honors classes, and had the respect of teachers and administrators at our school.
Our date was at the beginning of our junior year and at his friend’s party. The house was adult-free and filled with alcohol and sweaty teens dancing together. It would not be what I consider the ideal date, but being on Harvey’s arm was nice. He was popular and while I had a few friends in school, it was nothing compared to him. Being the police chief’s son gave you some sort of importance in a town as small as ours. My father is a successful lawyer and had been good friends with Harvey’s dad since they were young. He was happy about the potential of the two of us becoming a couple. Plus, Harvey was charming. He had a smile that won over anyone he flashed it to, and he knew how to use that charm to his advantage.
Harvey asked me if I wanted to go somewhere quiet to talk. It was hard to get to know each other like I thought people did surrounded by loud music and other people. Many of our classmates were hooking up, but that was not the first thing on my mind, especially on my first date. I didn’t think anything of it when he brought me to his friend’s guest bedroom, truly believing he wanted to get to know me better away from the crowd.
I shake my head before my memory is brought back to that bedroom.
Today is not going to be like that date. Looking back, I can’t help but think that what I thought was charming when it came to Harvey, I now see was slimy. He didn’t take no for an answer, especially when it came to the debate team. He knew how to get people to do what he wanted by being persistent, even pushy. It is sad the things we realize years later after our life experiences teach us.
Camden is not like Harvey. He isn’t pushy in an arrogant way. He is sweet and he likes me. Even though I am shy and quiet, he likes me and I can’t help but smile at that fact. I have closed people off for so long, I never thought forming a connection with a guy would ever happen.
The smell of my lavender-scented shampoo fills the bathroom and after I scrub my body clean with the new body wash Emree got from Target, I rinse the soap away and turn off the water. Grabbing the towel, I dry off most of my body and head out of the bathroom and to my bedroom where I shut and lock the door. My plush robe is hanging off the back of the door and after I shrug it on, I go to sit at my desk.
While our bedrooms in the apartment are not exactly large, they leave just enough room for a queen-sized bed, a dresser, a desk, and for me a bookshelf. Emree isn’t a book lover like I am and instead of a bookshelf in her room, she opted for a craft corner. With being a fashion design major, Emree uses much of her time experimenting with her sewing machine and the plethora of assorted fabrics in her room.
Back at my childhood home, my bedroom had been at least twice the size of my bedroom now. There was a large, canopy king bed, a solid wood desk, a walk-in closet, and a vanity that I would spend far too much time getting ready for school at in the morning.
My mother taught me at a young age that the Wentworth family does not leave the house looking anything less than perfection. My hair was never allowed to be out of place or dirty and my clothes were to be wrinkle-free and conservative. While my mother was not a fan of much makeup, she did have me wearing the minimum before starting high school. A little bit of concealer, a few swipes of mascara, and a dab of lipstick, but never anything more than a neutral color.
Since leaving home, I have foregone all the rules my mother instilled in me from such a young age. Well, besides the minimal makeup, but that is by choice. I have never been one to have the talent or desire to wear more than a little bit of mascara and concealer. Now instead of the stuffy dresses and matching top and pant sets my mother would have me wearing, I opt for more comfortable attire like loose jeans and a T-shirt. Sometimes I will wear a dress, but it is more of a summer casual one. My hair is often in a messy bun or hanging naturally down my back.
Today I want to look nice. Camden said to dress comfortably and luckily that is my entire closet. After blow-drying my hair, I use the curling wand to put in a few loose curls and secure them with hair spray. My hair is long and even with the curls, it hangs far past my breasts.
After finishing my hair, I check the time and see there are still forty-five minutes until eleven. Opting for my usual minimal makeup, I apply concealer under my eyes, above my cheekbones, and in the center of my forehead. Once I swipe on a few coats of mascara, I take in my appearance and smile. My eyes stand out more since I put on a few extra coats, and I know Camden is going to notice.
Taking in my limited clothing selection, I decide on a simple flowy wrap dress. It is a sage green with small, white daisies on it. The dress hits just above my knee and has cap sleeves. The top doesn’t dip too low but is tighter until it gets just below my breasts, where it flares out and becomes looser. Since I don’t know where our date is, I grab my light brown cardigan in case it is cold.
Just as I am slipping on my cream-colored ballet flats, there is a knock at the door. He’s five minutes early and I can appreciate his punctuality.
On my way to the front door, I grab my crossbody small purse from the couch. After opening the door, I let out a small gasp that I hope Camden didn’t hear. He stands there wearing a perfectly fitted pair of dark wash jeans, a maroon T-shirt with a pocket on the breast, and a baseball cap sits backward on his head with pieces of his hair flipping out. His green eyes are brighter today, and I wonder if it’s because of the way the sun is hitting them or the color of the shirt he is wearing.
In his hands is a bouquet of blue, orange, pink, yellow, and white wildflowers, and I smile when I spot my favorite flower. Sweet peas. Camden’s smile matches my own and he ducks his head.
“I know flowers are kind of cheesy, but I was on my way here and passed this guy on the side of the road selling these. I thought you would like them,” he says, thrusting the bundle of flowers at me.
Taking them from his hand, our fingers graze each other’s and the spark I feel does not go unnoticed. As I bring the bouquet up to my nose, I capture their scent. They smell fresh. I step back from the door and let him inside. “They’re beautiful, Camden. Thank you. You didn’t have to,” I tell him. I head into the kitchen to find a vase and he follows.
He mumbles out a “you’re welcome” as I grab a vase from the back of the cabinet under the sink. “You look beautiful, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.”
He’s probably right. In class, I usually opt for jeans or leggings and a T-shirt. “You said casual and comfortable and what can be more comfortable than not having to wear pants?” I say with a slight laugh at the end.
After putting the flowers in the vase and filling it with water, I give them one final sniff before heading toward Camden and following him out of the apartment, then lock the door.
As we walk through the apartment complex, I can’t help but wonder where we’re going. “You’re really not going to tell me where you’re taking me?”
Camden chuckles. “I’m going to guess you aren’t one for surprises,” he says more as a statement.
“Personally, never been much of a fan. I would rather be the one doing the surprising than being the surprised.” Though I don’t throw much of them anymore, my friends and I had done a good job of throwing each other surprises for each other’s birthdays. Well back when they were my friends.
Camden reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers. “Tough because apparently I like being the surpriser also.” He smiles down at me. I decide to give up on trying to get him to budge on telling me where we are going since he seems adamant about not letting the secret out.
He reaches into his pocket and comes out with a key fob. In front of us, the lights of the tallest vehicle I have ever seen flash. It’s a four-door Jeep Wrangler and by the added height, I can assume Camden has done something to make it several inches higher than it was when the car manufacturers made it.
“And how do you expect me to get into that monster truck?” I ask him as we stop beside the passenger door. There isn’t even a step for me to get into. I am sure with Camden’s height he has no issues getting into his car. He stands at least more than six inches taller than me. Plus, he has long legs.
He opens the door and looks at me and the seat. “Yeah, you know I never really thought about that. My sister is the only other girl who has been in here and she usually gets a running start and just dives in,” he says, laughing at what I can imagine being a comical image.
“Maybe I can give that a try.” Although the thought of leaping into his Jeep in a dress makes me think I will flash anyone around.
