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FEET WERE SORE, hair was frizzy, mouths were complaining, and they weren't even inside the venue yet.
"Jesus Christ. I told you we should've left earlier," Valentina groaned. Her leather boots creased, her feet going up onto her toes so she could see how far the line extended up ahead. She didn't see anything that the taller brunette on her right was already looking at.
Steve responded with a heavy sigh. "We would've been here earlier if someone didn't change their outfit thirty-two times."
"Oh, so it's my fault? It's not the guy's who forgot to fill up his tank?"
Steve's lips tucked tightly against his gritted teeth. He had to look to the sky for a moment, trying not to let Valentina see him so annoyed.
He didn't like getting frustrated. It reminded him of how possible it was for him to turn out like his dad. But almost everything went wrong on the day that was supposed to be perfect, and Steve was beginning to feel like it was a sign from the universe.
When Steve didn't answer, occupied with taking calming breaths so that he didn't blow up at the blonde, Valentina misread it. Or, she just didn't care. She had quite the short temper, and you would have thought Steve had somehow forgotten about that in their time apart.
"This is ridiculous," she spat, volume a bit louder than it was before. Steve turned his head to her and prepared to tell her to be quiet, which he knew would only upset her more. He didn't want to cause a scene.
His eyes looked at the older couple in front of them who gave Valentina a judgemental look. At that, Steve scrambled to find a solution that would make the girl happier.
"Stay here, hold our spot," he told her. "I'm gonna see if there's another way in."
Steve walked away before Valentina could respond, but he heard the grunt that left her lips from behind his back. He had to keep reminding himself that she was just frustrated in the moment, and things would be fine once they got inside.
Valentina watched Steve walk next to the line to the front, where workers were punching tickets at the door. Now alone with nobody to entertain her complaints and boredness, her hands reached into the pockets of her jean skirt and fiddled with her car keys. She was annoyed she even had to take them—Valentina had a habit of losing things—because Steve forgot to get gas, so they had to turn around and retrieve her car. Parking was her worst nightmare, and leaving the arena would surely be even worse.
A few minutes of being alone and Valentina was incredibly bored. She tried to talk to the group of women behind her after they complimented her outfit—a sheer blouse over a lacy bralette, matching the lace that she sewed onto the hem of her skirt. After telling one of them women that they were twinning because their boots looked similar, the conversation died.
There was still no sign of Steve returning soon. Valentina began to worry that he'd been stopped by security and accused of skipping the line. An idea formed in her head at that, but she decided against it.
