Stranger Things Have Happened | Marcus Bontempelli

fifteen.

"How dressy is this place?" I yelled from my bedroom, staring at a pile of clothes that I'd ripped out of my suitcase and thrown across the expanse of the entire king size bed.

There was no answer from Tom so I exited my room and banged on his bedroom door, pushing it open before I heard his response. The sight I was met with was Tom standing shirtless only wearing a pair of dark green corduroy pants and odd socks. He was holding an iron in one hand and an apple in the other, mouth filled to the brim.

"Jesus, you're ironing a shirt so it must be fancy," I exhaled somewhat panicked about what to wear. Being a touring musician meant that I didn't go to fancy restaurants very often, our meals were usually drive-thru Maccas if we were lucky.

"I was going to answer you but it's rude to talk with your mouth full," Tom replied, picking up the shirt and flapping it.

It was a short sleeve white collared shirt which made me feel a bit better. Tom leaned down to pick up a pair of brown leather dress shoes to cover his odd socks and made his way past me through his bedroom door and out into the lounge.

"It's not too fancy. I'm just sick of looking like a slob next to you and Jose but also..." Tom said, trailing off.

"Josie and I have hit a bit of a rough patch and I thought making an effort might get me laid so maybe you could make yourself scarce tonight...?" Tom asked, a hopeful look on his face.

I quirked an eyebrow, "What kind of rough patch is it?" I asked, hoping it wasn't too serious.

"You've noticed she hasn't been staying over, right? I dunno, she just doesn't seem interested in engaging in any kind of sex stuff," Tom admitted, scratching the back of his neck and an irresolute look on his face. "Or even just hanging out after work..."

"Have you talked to her about it?" I asked again, wracking my brain as to why she's gone cold all of a sudden.

Tom shook his head, "I'm so bad at talking about stuff like that,"

I couldn't help but scoff knowing exactly what he meant. We were one in the same when it came to self-sabotaging relationships. I walked over to him, reaching out to readjust his collar making sure it was straight and tucked his shirt into his pants.

"Well you look hot so go put on some cologne, maybe brush your fuckin' hair for once and I reckon you've got it in the bag," I said, smiling up at my best friend. Tom's lips rolled up into a smirk,

"Thanks Sull," He said before turning around and returning to his bathroom, seemingly taking my advice.

As quick as I possibly could, I ran back into my room. I pulled out a navy blue silk shirt that seemed to be the most wrinkle free option that I had in my massive pile of clothes and I didn't need to wear a bra with it so win-win. There was also a faux black leather wrap mini skirt that I'd packed on a whim and although my instinct is to always reach for jeans or trousers, if Tom is wearing corduroy pants then I needed to up my game.

I slicked my hair back into a low messy bun, put on a basic face of make up but did a dark mahogany lipstick to at least add some interest to the look. Haphazardly, I wrapped a couple of gold chains around my neck, popped some stud earrings in and added a few rings to my fingers before pulling out my shoe collection.

There weren't many options that went with the mini skirt so I opted for a pair of smooth black stiletto heeled boots that came up an inch above my ankle. I'd shoved all of my underwear into the small mesh pocket in my suitcase so I quickly plucked a pair and pulled them up my legs.

As I adjusted my hair, rolled up my sleeves and tucked my silk shirt in, Tom knocked on my door and asked if I was ready. With a spray of deodorant and a spritz of my unreasonably lavish perfume, I was ready to go. I grabbed the Gucci bag from earlier and an oversized blazer because even though it was still warm outside, the temperature always dropped when Melbourne succumbed to nightfall.