Eighty Days of Heartache

the forty-sixth day; [2]

THE FORTY—SIXTH DAY
» PART [2]

HOURS LATER, AND I find myself in front of my vanity mirror as I continue to blend out some concealer under my eyes. Kathleen's party is only twenty minutes or so away from starting, and despite the fact that I know nothing's going to go wrong, there's a deep sinking feeling in my gut.

Ivy couldn't help me get ready today, although she popped in when I was at my counselling session to throw some clothes in Blake's direction before telling him I have to shave, and I quote, from armpit to ankle.

The panic that filled my heart when I notice Ivy had left me with nothing but a denim skirt and a scrap of clothing which she called a shirt, left me feeling terrified and vulnerable. My father would crucify me if ever I even contemplated walking out of the house dressed in Ivy's suggestion.

So I called the only girl I knew who wouldn't send me out into the night wearing six inch heels and inappropriately lengthened skirts. That, and it turns out she was already at my house getting ready to head to the same party I was going to, as my brother's date.

"Pink, do you really think this is okay?" The candy—cotton haired girl grins widely as she surveys my outfit up and down. It's a little black dress, one that's skin tight with an iridescent shimmer under the artificial lighting. "It's a little... showy?"

"You can't go to a house party looking like a nun, Doe," she rolls her eyes at me, pulling at the hem of the dress which falls just below the middle of my thighs.

Scoffing I say, "if you see the outfit ivy wanted to put me in, people would be throwing notes at me wanting me to take it off!"

Pink wrinkles her nose before tightening one of the straps on my dress, stepping backwards to brush some straightened hair off of my bare shoulders. "And I would thrown my bank card at you for you to put it all on again."

Laughing at her antics, I shake my head and awkwardly cross my arms over my chest. "I'm just a bit worried about the scar on my shoulder... it's noticeable."

Her eyes flash with understanding, before she hurries to my wardrobe to pull out a leather jacket. "There! Matched with a pair of heeled boots, and Nero won't want you to leave his side!"

The mention of Nero leaves me a little frosty, but nonetheless I laugh along in order to pretend I'm not pissed off with him. Thankfully Pink doesn't catch on, and if she does she doesn't ask me what's wrong.

"So how did you manage to catch an invitation to Kathleen's party?" I sit back down on my vanity stool, watching as Pink ruffles through her little black clutch bag before grabbing a lint roller.

"It's her cousin Caden's party in all honesty," she states matter of factly, using the lint roller to brush down her jeans which are littered with white fluff. "He's come home from his gap year in Australia, and we were in the same year at school."

"Great," I mutter under my breath, making her pause de—linting herself to look up at me. "So it's going to be filled with a bunch twenty year old piss heads?"

Poking her tongue out at me, Pink resumes removing the lint from her trousers as she scoffs. "If anyone is a piss head, it's that Luke kid."

I want to stand up for Luke, but know that in all honestly Pink is right. Which eighteen year old drinks whiskey without wanting to cough it straight back up?