Lighter

t w e l v e

one glance and the avalanche drops,
one look and my heartbeat s t o p s . . .

⚡️⚡️⚡️

"Which shirt?"

Cheyenne lifted her head, dark eyes shifting between the two pieces I had displayed for her in my hands – a low-cut white bodysuit and a cropped navy blue tee. She stared at the option in my right hand a little longer than the other, scrutinizing every detail about it. Her firm nod told me that was the winner.

"The white one," she confirmed. I nodded too and turned around to put the t-shirt back in my closet. "It's so cute and it makes your boobs look good."

I scoffed with an eye roll, "Thanks."

"It does!" She squealed in defense.

"Won't I be cold though?" I spun around again and changed the subject from my cleavage to the idea of wearing a sleeveless shirt in November. Granted, it's not nearly as cold around here as it could be if we lived further north, except I thought ahead anyway. By the time we leave Jonah's show, it will be close to midnight which means the temperature will drastically change between now and then.

"No. It's gonna be hot as balls in the venue," Cheyenne chortled, waving me off like that was the silliest thing I could've said.

"True," I said under my breath. I heard her get up off my bed and walk over to me, then felt one of her skinny arms wrap around my shoulders. She was grinning at me when I looked at her, and I knew exactly what that smile meant.

"And besides, you wouldn't want to sweat off all the makeup I'm going to slap on your pretty little face, would you?" She questioned, slightly joking but mostly serious.

"Of course not," I chuckled and shook my head.

"Exactly. Now get changed and sit your ass down. We have to leave soon and I still have to get ready," she instructed me, patting me on the back roughly and then diving into her makeup bag.

At the subtle reminder of time slipping away from us, I sprang into action. My lazy day clothes came off and were traded for my much more appealing "night-out" attire. A flattering white bodysuit and skintight black jeans were a dramatic upgrade from one of my dad's old, decrepit t-shirts he once wore in high school and a pair of gray joggers I'd never walk out of the house wearing.

Cheyenne didn't bother changing before she did my makeup, which she finished in record timing and it still came out flawless. I'm always left in awe at how the hell she manages to do it all, when I can barely put on some foundation and mascara in ten minutes. While she put together an outfit only she could pull off with her stick figure, I curled a few random pieces of my hair and ruffled it around to mess it up.

I was done after I pulled on my go-to chunky black booties, waiting for my best friend who was multitasking at my mirror by perfecting a cat-eye and lecturing me. Her voice was just background noise as I watched my entire Snapchat feed, humming in agreement every couple of minutes to make it seem like I was paying attention to her. She was going on and on about how if I felt nervous or awkward or any other adjective matching the term "anxious", that I should tell her immediately. If it happens, she promised she would leave with me.

For some reason, I felt completely at ease about tonight. Like I've said, my anxiety hasn't been a problem lately. I'm not sure why, other than the fact that I've been absurdly busy for awhile, but I'm not going to jinx it. Instead of over-analyzing it, I'm trying to enjoy it before it comes back to bite me in the ass out of nowhere. It's still sweet of Cheyenne to offer, and her caring nature doesn't go unnoticed.