Inviting The Virgin (Old Version)

Inviting The Virgin (17)

            There was an overwhelming feeling of elegance consuming me. Of course, Stella being Stella had gone over the top with this date. White lace wrapped around my body almost perfectly. There was a low back that made me self conscious but I felt beautiful standing in the mirror, staring at my reflection. My fingers ran over the fabric before I was called down. Stella had arranged for cars to drop us off at the restaurants we were going to. There were three cars lined up outside, Sandra escorting each of us to one. Mimi and I finally had been separated leaving me feeling vulnerable.

            In the car I sat next to girls who turned up their noses when I got in—“Do you know where we are going or what we are doing?” I asked only to get scoffs in return.

            “Okay,” I said awkwardly when no one answered my question.

            “Just one second,” A girl with auburn hair muttered before pulling something out of her pocket—“I just says the restaurant name and it seems to be in French so I can’t help you,” she laughed while I tried to think of where I remembered her from.

            “Hi,” she smiled extending her arm across another girl’s chest—“I’m Jordan, we are in Calculus and English together,” surprisingly her response wasn’t hesitant in front of all of these girls. Most of them had probably knocked the booked out of her hand once or twice this year.

            “I’m Eden,” I took her hand, thankful for the small gesture.

            Jordan seemed shy and outspoken during school. She never raised her hand although she knew all the answers, never spoke to anyone besides her close circle but this person seemed different; more outgoing.

            The car weaved in and out of traffic leading us down town. Once it finally came to a halt all of us jumped out assuming the tall building in front of us was our destination. Curtsey of Mimi she had curled my hair into loose curls that fell well past my shoulders but only if I promised to spend almost an hour straightening hers.   

            “How crazy exciting is this?” Jordan shouted going wild. She twirled around in the middle of the sidewalk for a minute before settling down. In my eyes anyone could see fear where hers only read wonder.

            “You’re an optimist. Are you sure your worst nightmare is behind these doors?” I asked her while the rest of the girls pushed passed her heading inside.

            “At least I’ll face it,” she replied before waltzing to the double doors and flinging them open like she owed the place. I followed her entrance, only less grand. My heels clicked on the hardwood entrance while my ankles barely stayed in place upon the high stilts.

            Jordan interlocked in arm within mine seeing how hesitant I was. She dragged me to the podium where a woman in a nice black dress stood—“It looks like you needed a push and I promise it won’t be one down the stairs,” her voice seemed cheery but to me it sounded eerie. I gave her an absurd look before we continued.