Will We Talk?

8- Decision

It felt like ages, stood wearing the bare minimum as I decided which outfit I would wear out today. Not that I had to worry as Sam had already saw me without any clothes on. But I still had to make an effort, after all, I was going on my first date since splitting with Joseph.

Today felt like a day I'd concentrate solely on my hair and put minimum effort into makeup, if any. It was also the last day of freedom until I was up to my shoulders in work, so I had to make the most of looking alive.

Outfit 1 truly said "look at me", consisting of my orange skirt and blazer, alongside a white shirt to cover the cleavage. On the foot, I'd wear my white air forces that had an orange Nike tick upon the side. My jewellery would be of the silver kind, my personal preference, but wouldn't stick out much- so no hoops in the ears. I feel like some sunglasses would pair nice too, whether we were going out and about or not.

Outfit 2 was giving businesswoman with black flares matching a black blouse and a blazer to hang over the shoulders. I'd likely wear a snazzy black heel with that too, not anything too fancy. I had also found a black handbag with a gold chain that made the outfit pop a bit more. That means that I would have to wear gold jewellery to match, much to my chagrin.

The final outfit was slightly more casual, it seemed to say "summer's day out". On my bed sat a short, floaty sun dress that was a coral colour, although it was slightly washed out as I had worn it so much. As much as I wanted to wear crocs, it wouldn't be great attire for a first date, so it was likely to be matched with my white wedges. Once again, I'd prefer to wear silver jewellery with it.

It was a really hard decision, I wanted to blow Sam away with my outfit as he hasn't really saw me in one. I knew I was getting nowhere when choosing which to wear, so I turned to my Instagram.

Posting on Instagram had became a small hobby of mine as I documented all of my fashion choices to the 4,578 followers I had. I added a video to my story, explaining the situation to my followers, and backing that up with seperate photos of me in each outfit.

Luckily, I had tons of time until Sam was due to come over a collect me.

After posting the story, it was 5:05 PM and Sam was meant be here by 6:45 PM. To ease my brain from its thoughts, I lay on my bed, scrolling for a while, taking inspiration for future outfits.

By the 5:15 mark, I had been given enough responses to my post. Taking the majority, I placed outfit 3 and 2 back into my wardrobe, where they'd remain until another date. Then I observed the orange outfit again. Was it too much?

The sun was beaming outside, so wearing a skirt was probably the best idea. Fortunately, my legs were still smooth from the last time I shaved, and I know not many females are blessed with that power.

I had no intention of sleeping with Sam again, so I wore the same, plain, run of the mill underwear I wore everyday, except for the strapless bra part. The white shirt I wore had thin spaghetti straps, so it would look odd if I had bra straps popping out too.

*****

Something I've always cursed myself for is my habbit of doing my hair last. When it came to my hair, or just hair in general, I had the patience of a toddler as my thick curls were super stubborn. Especially when they weren't freshly washed. So, how would I style my hair with this outfit?

After lots of pinterest searching and back and forth between styles, I had eventually decided to put my hair in space buns- 90s style. Although I was only a tot during the 90s, my mam always dressed me in that sort of way until I gained a mind of my own. Fashion had always been an interest of mine- it was even the subject of one of my GCSEs, which I unsurprisingly passed with flying colours.

Outfit? Check. Hair? Check. Bag? Check. Makeup? Slight check. Insta post? Check. Accompanied by Sam? Not quite yet.

The wait for him felt like forever. When the clock hit 6:45 I went into panic mode. Immediately, I thought the worst- he actually had forgotten about me.

Sam: I'm waiting outside, didn't know which apartment was urs xx

Evelyn : Alright, just coming down now xx

*****

We took a stroll along the coastline of North Shields, heading towards Whitley Bay. The two of us were just talking as though we hadn't just met two nights ago. It didn't shock me when I figured out how genuine Sam was, until he started depreciating himself.

"Sam, what do you actually do?" I asked in a moment of boldness, not expecting his answer.

"I'm a singer in a band, we aren't big yet, but its class." he smirked, laughing at my reaction.

My eyes simply popped out my head as my mouth opened wide: could it be him? Had I slept with THE Sam Fender?

"What's your full name?" I interrogated, willing for him to either confirm or deny my thoughts.

"Samuel Thomas Fender." he added.

"So you mean to tell me that I had a one night stand with Sam Fender? No fucking way." I gasped, not thinking about what I'd said.

"You did. Do you actually know who I am or are you pretending?" he apprehensively questioned.

"No, I genuinely know who you are. Millennial and Friday Fighting are actually on my playlist. I'm so sorry for not realising who you are sooner." I reassured, unsure whether I was being too much of a fan girl.

"Wow." he muttered, eyes on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to come off as a weird fan girl, that was not my intention at all." I rushed, trying to catch his attention.

"No, no. Its just weird, isn't it?" I nodded, "Tell me about you Evelyn, what's your full name?"

"Evelyn Victoria Jonston." I shrugged, now it was his turn to be shocked, which I was confused by.

"As in Keith Jonston's daughter?" he seemed impressed, but why did he know my dad?

"Yes. I'm sorry, how do you know my dad?" I requested.

"He used to be a regular when I worked at the Low Lights, is he doing any better now?"

"Much better, aye."

My dad also used to be an alcoholic and it took 4 different support groups to get him to properly stop. He used to become really scary, braying things as he passed them. One night, he was close to hitting mam, then he gained consciousness. That night traumatised me as a 17 year old and living alone with my parents.

"Good, I used to hate serving him." he sighed, leading me into a restaurant that I was unfamiliar with.

And the conversations just kept on flowing between us all night. I felt safe with him- as though all my troubles just dissipated around him.

"Sam, I'm in recovery. I just figured I'd let you know before we go any further." I stammered.