BPOV
"Hello? Is anybody home?" I heard a singsong voice call from the entryway. "Isabella? It's me, Jasmine, personal shopper extraordinaire...here to whisk you away to what I consider to be paradise.
That must be Jasmine.
I hurried down the staircase, wearing the same shirt I had put on last night for dinner. And as embarrassed as I was to meet a stranger for the first time in nothing but my john's shirt, I really had no other choice.
"Oh, hey!" she greeted me, all cheery and morning person like. Her hair was short and spiky, and she was so little and unbelievably gorgeous that she reminded me of Tinker Bell...only with dark hair instead. I just wanted to pick her up and stick her in my pocket.
"Um, hi," I said all awkward like. "Bella Clarks."
"Jasmine Butler," she said with a wide smile. "I'm so ecstatic to finally meet you!"
I stuck my hand out in a friendly gesture, but she rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, please!" She snorted softly through her pert nose as she waved off my somewhat formal greeting. "We're going to be shopping all day together. In my world, that's like having sex," she giggled and then grabbed me for a quick hug. "Mmm, you smell good. This is for you by the way," she said, handing me a pink bag.
"Clothes?" I asked, just to be sure.
"Yeah. Say, what happened to all your clothes anyway?"
"About that," I hedged, not having any clue how to answer. "My moving here to be with Justin was kind of a rushed decision and I didn't really have time to pack very much. What little I did pack didn't really seem to be up to par with the styles and trends you guys wear around here, so I got rid of them."
There. That sounded like fashion speak, right?
Jasmine arched a perfectly manicured brow and I could see the wheels turning in her head as she squinted her eyes at me in doubt.
"And you were naked when you did this?"
"Um, no," I half laughed. "Of course not, silly. The clothes I had on are just...dirty. Yeah, they're dirty."
"Uh-huh," she eyed me suspiciously. "Well, why don't you go ahead and get changed and we'll get going?"
Riding in Jasmine's little red beamer scared the shit out of me. Multi-tasking is a gift. I'm just not so sure it's a gift that should be used while driving. She was doing well over the legal speed limit, while texting and be-bopping along to LMFAO. Every now and then, she'd honk the horn and curse at an elderly person who, and I quote, "should've had their driver's license revoked once they hit age 50." Jasmine's philosophy was that no one wearing a diaper should be allowed behind the wheel of a car, and that everyone over the age of 50 should be required to re-test every year.
I'm going to have to say that I agree with her, but I'm also going to say that hyperactive little people strung out on caffeine shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel of a vehicle either, for that matter.
She whipped into a spot just vacated by another vehicle. And when I say 'just vacated', I mean they were barely even out of the spot before she parallel parked the car without even backing up...which meant that she ran up on the curb, forcing some of the patrons walking on the sidewalk to scramble out of the way.
I managed to wrench my fingertips out of the dashboard, where I was sure there would be lingering imprints, and got out of the car. By that time, I was perfectly willing to kiss the ground had it not been so grotesque with God only knows what sort of germs and diseases. Public streets and sidewalks are like Petri dishes cultivating death cocktails.
