Birthday

6:12 p.m.

6:12 p.m.

Mila and Hartley are finally back home from the mall, which Mila thinks she has already memorized due to all the walking and searching she's done today. Surprisingly, Hartley didn't take five hours to find Mila her dress, so here they are, ready from some primping for some mysterious blind date.

Mila leaves her bedroom door open behind the two of them once they're inside. Hartley dumps their shopping bags on the floor and puts her hands on her hips. "We don't have that much work to do, but..."

"I hope you're not insinuating terrible things about me," Mila says. She bends down and fiddles with a bag. "You bought me lingerie while you were at it?" She looks up, raising an eyebrow. "You really have high hopes for this blind date."

Hartley rolls her eyes. "We're not adults, Mi. That stuff's for me."

"You're not an adult too..." Mila throws a hot pink push up bra at Hartley's face, and it catches on her bun perfectly. "Disgusting. You'll have to tell me who the guy is later. And who is the guy I'll be seeing tonight?"

"That would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?" Hartley takes the bra off her head. "Anyway, it's time for you to get ready. We wouldn't want the dress I prepared to go to waste...again."

"Shut up." Mila takes the bag with her dress. "That event...was a different matter." She looks up at her best friend, who sends her a strangely triumphant smile. "Let's get going, shall we?"

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"Ow, ow," Mila says, flinching as she resists the urge to reach out a couple inches and to strangle her best friend. "Have you ever heard that you're not supposed to put the curling iron right against human skin?"

"Shut up; you make sacrifices for beauty," Hartley says through clenched teeth. She takes a bobby pin from between her teeth and sticks it in Mila's hair, probably disregarding the fact that it's poking into her scalp rather than holding her hair together. "You wouldn't want to look like a hot mess, would you?"

"It's a new trend nowadays." Mila closes her eyes. "Why do I need to look like I'm going on the red carpet tonight? For all you know, I could be going to McDonald's, and this might just be overkill."

"Well, lucky for you"—Hartley spits out the bobby pins between her teeth, muttering something about the metallic taste—"I happen to have the guy's number. And he's told me everything. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, like your past history's proved that." Mila rolls her eyes. "Fine, whatever. We're almost done, right?"

"Stick in there, fella." Hartley finally releases the last strand of hair from the hair curler and sticks another pin into Mila's scalp. "And there. Stand up and use that full-length mirror that your mom got you. Or the one that your dad got you. I can't really remember."

Mila doesn't say anything even though she really does want to slap her best friend for being such an annoying bitch, but she stands up and wobbles her way to her bedroom mirror. Woah. She doesn't remember looking like...Audrey Hepburn. Her hair's woven into curls which are pinned to the back of her head—all that hair curling has paid off. And that amazing eye shadow effect that Hartley claims that she invented... And her bright pink lipstick. And that little black dress.

She turns around to Hartley, who looks like she has tears in her eyes for whatever reason. "Thank you, Hart," she whispers. "Thank you." She pauses. "I didn't know you were such a makeup guru."

"I'm not. But I can certainly pretend." Hartley shrugs. She checks her watch, frowns a little, and starts typing furiously away, like she's texting someone.