Okay, I'm freaking out, I need clothes. I mean, clothes for the party, of course. I don't want to be an outfit repeater at my own party!
I pick up my phone. "ERIC!" I say, rather hysterically, when he answers. "WE'RE GOING SHOPPING," I declare.
"Um, WE?" asks Eric, sounding edgy.
"YES, ERIC, WE," I say, irritably. He's acting so daft, I feel like throwing something at him.
"Do I have to?" he asks.
"Yep."
"Damn."
"I'm getting my car. I'll pick you up in 10," I say and hang up.
****
I honk, impatiently. Eric comes running out of his house. "Sorry, sorry!" he says, looking annoyed.
I soften. "Come on, you're my best friend," I flutter my eyelashes. His expression is that of defeat.
"Fiiiine, but I dont get why you won't just take Mikayla!" He complains, getting into my convertible.
"They aren't going to give me honest opinions," I say, briskly.
He looks confused.
"It's a girl thing," I add.
He shrugs, and I speed off towards the mall.
****
At the mall, we first enter a Marks and Spencer store. I pick out a pair of shorts, and a low tank top, and look at Eric. He looks at me in disbelief. I widen my eyes and pick out a crop-top instead. He takes in a deep breath.
"Okay, this is the kind of stuff you wear all the time. I don't believe you want me to help you pick THIS!" Eric says, pointing at what I'm holding.
"Okayyy. Next store," I oblige.
We walk into Bebe. I pick out a short red dress. He smiles. "Better."
Deciding it's better to try on different stuff all at once, I pick out an even shorter strapless black dress, a black dress with a lacy bust, and an off-the-shoulder gold shimmery dress.
I strut into the trial room, dragging Eric along, holding him by his tie (For the life of me, I haven't been able to figure out his love for ties. The guy has more ties in his wardrobe than I have clothes. Okay I'm exaggerating.)
He waits outside, as I try on the red dress. It looks okay, nothing great really. I pull it off, and try on the dress with the black lace. It looks fine. I walk out, feeling unnaturally shy. Eric looks at me. "Hmm. That's nice, its different. But I think you could do better," he says. I slump my shoulders and walk back into the changing room, and put on the gold dress. When I walk out, his expression says it all. He hates it. His nose is wrinkled up.
"Jeeeez okaaaayyy!" I put my hands up and go back in.
The last dress, the strapless black dress fits me perfectly. It, somehow, accentuates my already worked upon curves. The fact that I've worn a pushup adds to it. I smile. If he doesn't like this I don't know what he will.
I walk out, confidently. His expression is blank, and then he walks to me. And pushes me inside the changing room. And kisses me on my lips. Hard.
