Who Is This?

Chapter 8

Cassidy finally escaped from the bridesmaids of doom at about four-thirty, though was unable to shake off Emily, who insisted that she needed to help her pick out an outfit. Cassidy protested this heatedly, but admitted reluctantly to herself that it was probably for the best, as she'd rather not show up for her first date in about a million years in a bright pink polo shirt and a grass skirt. She wasn't sure why she would own a grass skirt, but there were dark, dusty depths to her wardrobe that she hadn't explored in years. For all she knew, there could be fucking Narnia back there. Probably with less snow and magical lions, though.

"Okay, this is cute," Emily was saying, her voice slightly muffled from having her head buried in the aforementioned wardrobe.

"What is it?" Cassidy asked lazily from her bed, taking another sip from the beer in her hand. So far she had had about zero input in the date-preparation. Maybe zero point five, as she had shown Emily the closet.

"It's this silvery, off the shoulder dress, sort of wrapped around? It's long, and very fancy."

"Um..." Cass frowned and tried to think about whether that sounded familiar. "I dunno. Maybe it's Daisy's?"

"Whosever it is, it's gorgeous," Emily said decidedly. "Get up."

With a groan, Cass allowed herself to be pulled off her bed, still clutching her beer. She got in one last gulp before Emily swapped the can for the dress, then she struggled out of her jeans and t-shirt and into the dress. It was slightly more difficult to put on than she anticipated, involving a lot of jumping to wriggle it over her hips, and an awkward arm contortion to get it in the one sleeve. When she finally had it on, she was panting, and her face felt flushed.

"Tada!" she said sarcastically, trying to hide the fact that she was super out of breath and obviously really unfit.

"Cassidy, you look so fucking gorgeous, you're wearing this!" Emily squealed, and Cassidy rolled her eyes, secretly glad that she wouldn't have to take the dress off any time soon, as it appeared to have welded itself to her body. Emily shoved a pair of shoes into her hands, then steered her into the bathroom, chattering all the while about how pretty she looked, and how she was gonna 'bowl this guy over', which honestly sounded fairly terrifying, not to mention embarrassing. Emily disappeared for a second, then she dragged something into the bathroom, and grabbed Cassidy's shoulders, pulling her down into the chair she'd just brought.

"What are you doing?" Cass complained, wriggling as Emily started tugging at her hair, but her sister just swatted her away.

"Get lost, I'm fixing your hair, you should be thanking me!"

"I can do it myself," Cass groaned, and Emily laughed.

"Yeah, but I don't think that your two styles of 'ponytail', or 'I haven't brushed my hair in three weeks' are really gonna cut it right now."

"Hey!" Cass protested with a scowl, but Emily just tugged one of her wild curls, ignoring her protests.

"Come on, Cass, you know I'm good at it. I've been doing your hair since we were kids, you've gotta let me."

Cassidy sighed, and reluctantly acquiesced.

"Fine," she groaned, then adopted a overly-enthusiastic American accent, an obvious mockery of Emily's. "Pretty me up!"

If she was being totally honest with herself, Emily did a better job of doing her hair than she did, despite the fact that Cassidy had been living with her incorrigible curls for her entire life, and Emily had only ever had to deal with her own straight-as-a-pole hair until she was seven. Then, of course, Cass' wild hair had burst onto the scene, and she'd immediately become an expert at taming it.