Black Ice

Chapter Ten

"There is only one way to happiness, and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will." 

~Epictetus 

*****

"Red." 

"No." 

"Come on. You'll look great." 

"I'm not going to wear red, June." 

but it's scientifically proven that guys find red sexier!" 

I laugh, snatching the red dress from her hands and turning back to the closet. "I'm not trying to look sexy. Besides, we're going to Pie-Ticious, not the Ritz. I'm not wearing a dress. Where did you find this thing?"

"From the damp, dark cave in the back of your closet where all your nice clothes hide," June replies, tossing a curl of her gorgeous orange locks over her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure you've got Batman's lair in your closet, Aly." 

"Ha-ha." I shuffle through rack after rack of clothes I forgot I owned, and snort when I come to a pink dress so bedecked in frills it looks more like a cake than an article of clothing. "Seriously, since when is my closet a portal into a Disney Princess film?" 

"It's always been that way," June informs me, tugging on a pair of neon green heels that will surely break her ankles. "You just never noticed. You were too busy re-wearing the same pair of converse every day for ten years." 

I eye the heels warily as she straps them on. "Well, if it was up to you, I'd wear shoes like that all the time."

"Oh, come on. I'd let you wear sneakers, like, twice a week. Ooh, this is cute!" 

Standing up in my green torture heels, she wobbles over the the bed, where I've thrown everything I've gone through so far. Every five minutes, June will pick something out and wave it under my nose, as if seeing it for the second time will unlock my inner 'girl'. This time, she choses a white, lacey skirt that cuts off mid-thigh. 

"No," I say, not bothering to look. If it's on the bed, it's there for a reason, and I'm not going to wear it. 

"You're hopeless," June groans.  "Look, if you like this guy, like, at all, you should at least try to wear something a little bit nice! Jeans and a t-shirt won't cut it, Aly!"

I sigh and toss another dress toward the bed. 

June catches it. "Okay, fine, fine, fine. Compromise. You don't have to wear a dress, or even a skirt. But can you let me help you pick out something that's a least a little bit feminine?" 

I'm about to say no again, but then she does that thing where her eyes get all big and sad, and I feel myself saying yes before I'm fully aware of what I'm agreeing to. 

"Aw, yeah!" June pumps her fist. "Can I do your hair and makeup, too?" 

"Did you just puppy-dog-eyes me?" I accuse. 

She pretends not to hear me through the clack of clothing racks as she goes through my closet, but her light smirk gives her away. 

*****

In the end, June selects a long, low cut blue tank top that accents my curves, and lets me wear a jean jacket over it. She ends up trying to force me into the same white skirt she picked up earlier, but I make her compromise with black leggings. I flat-out refuse eyeshadow, but allow a hint of mascara, and I let her curl the tips of my hair. 

The result is a perfect blend between casual and classy. 

"Classual," June remarks after giving me a once-over. "Cute, but understated. I like it."