“Come on, Lisa! You have to come out tonight. Finals are over and it’s karaoke night at the bar tonight,” Becky nags.
“You know I’m not the bar type, Bec. And I have to pack,” I reply, avoiding eye contact. I know I don’t have to pack tonight. Actually, I know that I won’t pack tonight. I’ll procrastinate and leave that duty until tomorrow morning.
“The ‘bar type?’” she asks, using air quotes I can see out of the corner of my eye. “What does that even mean? Come have fun! Please!” she begs, crawling over to me on her knees and pulling my arm pleadingly.
“Fine, Bec. One drink, but I’m not singing karaoke,” I reply. I can’t help but laugh when she yells out in excitement. “But, you’re helping me pack and paying for my bail if I get caught with my fake ID.”
“Pinky promise. You won’t get caught, and packing after a few drinks will be fun, anyway. Now what are you going to wear?” Becky asks.
“Um, jeans and a nice shirt?” I reply. I have no clue what to wear out. I always feel either over or under dressed the few times I’ve gone out before. I don’t have a luxurious wardrobe. Not from lack of wanting one, but just because I can’t seem to pick out anything cute like other girls can. Besides, I’d rather sit in the dorms and have a few drinks in my comfy sweats, rather than go out in heels and be limping by the time I come home.
“No, wear a dress! I’ll help! Let’s get all dolled up. It’ll be fun, I promise,” Becky responds with a smile. I roll my eyes at her, but I can’t keep the smirk off my face. As much as I won’t admit it out loud, it does sound like fun. Maybe Becky is right. I definitely could use a night out, dressed like someone other than boring me. “What about this?” she asks, holding a short black dress that I hide in the back of my closet. “It will look so cute with my red heels and a long necklace.”
“How did you even find that?” I laugh. Leave it to Becky to find the one dress I own in a matter of minutes. It’s just a simple black dress; form fitting that comes to a few inches above my knee with a tank-like top. I bought it a while back, before I gained the typical freshman-fifteen. I had been going to the gym and eating better, I thought, so maybe it would fit now. “Let me see it,” I said, now that curiosity about how much I had actually accomplished at the gym was nagging at me.
I pulled off my shirt and slipped the dress over my head. With my eyes half closed, I looked at my reflection in the full length mirror hanging on the back of my door. I instantly smiled back at myself in the mirror. It looks like my hard work paid off. I was still far from perfect. I mean, what girl looks at their reflection and is completely satisfied, but I didn’t have any major complaints. “Is it okay?” I ask Becky.
“I love it! Especially when you take those leggings off and show off those newly toned legs! The men will be jumping all over you.” She said with a giggle. I laughed too, reminding myself that tonight was about having fun with my best friend before leaving her for a week and not about finding a boyfriend. Besides, at this rate I was headed for the female version of 40-year-old virgin. Oh, hi! Yes, that’s me, Lisa, the college freshman who still hasn’t even had her first kiss. No, not by choice. I compare it to my plain wardrobe: not lack of trying, lack of talent. Thank you, thank you very much.
I shake the thoughts out of my head. It would happen when the time was right, I think to myself. “I’d rather not have men jumping all over me, thank you very much,” I said. “Though, the mental image is pretty hilarious.” We both laughed at the thought.
“Okay, let’s see,” Becky began. “Outfit: check. Next up: hair and makeup. Let’s go get our smoky eye look on, girl.” I roll my eyes, yet again, and head to the bathroom with my cosmetic bag and flat iron. Becky turns on the radio and dances her way into the bathroom too.
Before I know it, I’m nervously showing the bouncer my fake ID as he chats with my best friend about her plans over spring break. I pang of jealousy hits me, as a wish I could have just an ounce or two of her confidence. It’s not that I don’t have self-confidence, but it just doesn’t seem to radiate off me the way Becky’s does. The bouncer hands me back my card with a smirk. “Have fun,” he says.
“I thought it was karaoke night?” I ask Becky, as we walk into the bar. On the stage is a curly haired guy with tattoos running down his arm. He’s in all black, from his skinny black jeans to his loose black t-shirt. And he sounds amazing. The raspy voice coming out of his seemingly perfect mouth sends chills through my whole body and I can’t help but stare.
“It is,” she replies, staring at the guy on stage as well. “Damn, he’s good. And hot.” All I can do is nod in agreement. “Let’s go get a drink,” she says.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy From the Bar (h.s.)
Fanfiction"Kiss me, Harry,” I whisper, almost as shocked at the words as he seems to be. “I thought you’d never ask, baby,” he says before delicately brushing his hand on my blushed cheek, letting it linger as he leans in. When our lips meet, I feel firework...
