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I already asked outside your car.
It felt more like you ordering me around, actually.
Get used to it.
I could almost hear the words in his voice…and I could hear his smile.
Wear something casual. We’re going to walk around the city.
In public, brightly lit places?
Of course. I want you to feel safe with me.
Carrie had prepared me for a world of terrible first dates. I’d avoided dating for the most part since I woke up. It had just felt wrong. I didn’t even know who I was; how was I going to figure out who I was in a relationship?
She left for her shift an hour early to come over and help me get dressed.
She eyed me skeptically. “I think you should go sluttier. This is a guy you found on the street? He wasn’t drawn to your personality.”
“Carrie,” I chided in exasperation.
“At least wear that lacy tank top so he can see the girls.”
“Why are you here again?”
Since it was a casual date, I reluctantly flipped past the handful of dresses in my closet. I felt prettiest when I wore dresses for some reason. But I didn’t own very many; I’d tried out a bunch of different styles, and I’d learned to go minimalist in my clothes purchasing. Someday, I’d figure out what exactly I loved most.
So far, the closest I’d come to identifying my style waskindergarten teacher.
I pulled out the black leather jacket, which was a staple item and not, as Carrie called it, evidence of a brain injury. She had been very opinionated about the goth phase.
“This is an acceptable time to wear it,” she admitted as I turned around, holding it up.
I threw it on my bed as I headed for the mirror to finish my makeup. I was just wearing dark jeans and, on second thought, I doubled back to take off my sweater and replaced it with the lacy tank top. Carrie smiled at her victory, but didn’t rub it in.
“It’s weird that he asked me out on the street, right?” I asked as I started to line my eye, winging it up for a smoky eye.
I seemed to have a practiced hand with makeup that made it easy for me to recreate any look I found on Youtube. Another clue to who I used to be that had ultimately led me nowhere.
Carrie scoffed. “No. Girl, have you seen yourself?”
I straightened, examining the long, dark brown hair that hung around my shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Then I’m assuming the answer is no, you’ve neverreallyseen yourself. You’re gorgeous.”
I turned back to her, smiling. But before I could say anything, she added, “Did I ever tell you about the guy who ordered us prune juice on our date? At least he paid.”
Carrie finished giving me the worst pep talk for a first date as we walked to meet Greyson.
“I’m going to bounce to work as soon as he sees that you have someone waiting for you to come home,” she told me.
We walked into the little coffee shop Greyson had picked as our meeting place.
I could place him as soon as I walked in, even though he was standing with his back to me. His fine jacket clung to broad shoulders and a lean waist, and his dark hair was immaculate. Most of all, it was the aura he exuded.
“There he is,” I told Carrie.
“Good. I need to memorize his face so I can tell a police sketch artist if I need to.”
