Ariella never saw Mike like a brother; she only loved his goofball personality and flair for creativity. Mike never dreamed that bubbly and fierce Ariella would be interested in him. Once she confesses she's crushed on him for years, Mike staunchly...
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"I'm wondering about your birthday wish..."
Just like in the kitchen the other night, Michael stands so close I can't think; his deep, solid pitch in my ear shooting tingles through me. His thumbs caresses my shoulder blades, and I suck in a breath as he draws them down my waist, over the fabric.
I whisper into the darkness as voices of people leaving the party drift past us. "Mike, you know I like you, right?
My name slips off his tongue as a question, and I suck in a breath as his wet mouth grazes the column of my neck. "Yeah?" I breathe out.
"I like you, too."
***
Thanksgiving dinner begins in a few hours, and I've sifted through my closet twice. My makeup, thrice.
I hook the hanger of the cerulean dress I selected onto the latch on the double doors and step back, squinting one eye.
Is this the one?
Will he like it?
Twisting my mouth, I glance toward my bedroom door as I hear creaking footsteps in the hallway. Maybe it's my mom, and she can help me decide.
Knuckles softly rap on the other side, and I whip it open to find Sierra's hair flying forward from the motion of my door.
I chuckle as she smooths it back from her face. "Hi!"
She beams back but I notice a nervous spark in her eye. I'd be nervous if I were her, too. I mean, I'm anxious and I live here.
Sierra plays with the ends of her long hair over one shoulder. "Would you want to get ready together?"
"Oh, my gosh. Yes!"
I fling the door wider and gesture for her to enter. Perfect. I love her classic, feminine style with edgy parts woven in, and I want her opinion.
"Oh, is that what you plan to wear?" Her footsteps are light as she crosses the room, and I catch a hint of hair product whooshing past. "I love it, Ariella. Perfect color for you." She swipes her fingers through my ends. "What are you doing with this beautiful mane?"
"I'm not sure. Sierra..." My cheeks round out with the giant puff of air I let out. "I feel super nervous."
"You do? Well, join the club. We can get matching tattoos."
I giggle. "What would they say?"
"Anxiety Girl Club?" she suggests, lifting her eyebrows while continuing to finger-comb my hair. "How about a fishtail braid down here?"
