𝙈𝙀𝘿𝘿𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙆𝙄𝘿𝙎━━━ 𝘖𝘉𝘟!

𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘩

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𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗦(𝗦);
❝𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬.❞

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word count; 2305

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"Sarah." I groaned loudly, drawing out the "ah", expressing my annoyance to no one throughout my empty house.

I agreed to let her take me out today and had woken up extra early to prepare myself and get ready. I had exfoliated, shaved, plucked, waxed, clipped, and painted my nails, and continued to scan Pinterest for outfit ideas last night. Then this morning I proceeded to wash my face, brush my teeth (a few times, and nearly choke on my toothbrush several times while scrubbing my tongue), add another protective clear coat to my nails just in case (I pick when I'm anxious), and take a multitude of extra precautions to ensure I would even look decent.

I had known Sarah Cameron all my life, everyone has. She was the definition of perfect, the poster child of flawless. But I had really started to get to know her a few months ago when John B brought her around the chateau for the first time. She wasn't nearly as stuck up as everyone made her out to be, and I was never this careful to look nice around her before, but there was something about turning what would usually just be a day of hanging out into a date, that changed everything. But at the same time, nothing was changing, we had hung out together, just us two before, but now we were slapping a label on it, now it was officially something more than just platonic, it was something now.

Sarah wasn't helping my growing anxiety one bit. I'd asked her multiple times leading up to this morning what we would be doing, and her answer was always something along the lines of, "it's a surprise" and it was no different today; which left my stack of outfit choices sky high.

I hastily pressed the call button and started pacing around my bedroom in my underwear, growing goosebumps on my naked skin. She picked up rather quickly, greeting me with a cheery, "Good morning sunshine!"

"Come on Sarah, you seriously can't tell me anything about where we're going? I have to know what to wear."

She laughed devilishly at my peril, "Whatever you want honey."

I rolled my eyes, wishing she could see how visually annoyed I was, "That doesn't help. Do I need to bring a swimsuit?"

"If you want to." Sarah seemed to be enjoying how worked up I was getting.

I groaned again, this time expressing my irritation to her through the phone, I mumbled, "I literally hate you." and hung up the phone, catching the beginning of her giggle fit before the line cut off.

I set my phone to the side and opened up my dresser drawers, digging to find a swimming suit; and eventually settling on a simple two-piece. Swiveling back to the mess of my entire wardrobe displayed across my bed, I picked through to find a black tennis skirt and a large flannel; cute, not too girly, and functional. With only twenty minutes until Sarah would be here, I slipped into my new outfit and hurried into the bathroom to tame the unruly chocolate mess atop my head, which only turned into a semi-tamed situation as a messy bun tied up in a black ribbon. Make-up wasn't an option at this point, so fresh-faced with a little mascara would do, subtle diamond stud earrings, and a silver chain necklace to balance it out. Finally, I dashed back to my room and slid on some plain sandals to top everything off just in time for Sarah to knock on the front door. Snagging my phone and wallet off my desk I was ready to go.