Reece's Haven

31

"I want to wake up in your arms everyday..."
– Nautica

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~ D O R O T H Y ~

January 1998

When the final touches are done, Jenny pulls out a long navy-blue coat from my cupboard and scans me up and down.

"You look amazing, Dorothy," she says, nudging me to stand in front of the mirror.

I am wearing a simple light blue dress that cascades to just below my knees. Jenny chose the dress, as the colour sort of resembles the colour of Damien's eyes. It has netted sleeves that reach my elbows. My waist-length hair is straightened, instead of curled, given the paucity of time. My make-up is kept to a minimum, just a bit of mascara, blush and lipgloss. Overall, I am impressed by how Jenny managed to make me look like a 'lady' in such a short amount of time.

"If this is the result of my effort after half an hour, imagine two hours," Jenny says, reading my mind.

"I don't think I could have handled two hours," I say.

"Well, you just got lucky this time."

Smiling, she offers me her arm.

"Shall we, madam?"

I lock my arm with hers, laughing lightly.

"Why, of course," I reply.

After what we went through today, I feel so much more comfortable around Jenny. I finally have someone I can fully trust, besides Sister Alexa. We promised each other to keep no secrets from each other, and I am glad that we did. I don't have to fight anything or anyone alone.

"Jenny, I need to tell you something," I say as we walk out of my room.

"Well, shoot."

"...Not now, it's a long story."

Noticing the seriousness in my tone, she nods her head.

"If you want, I can stay here tonight?" she suggests. "We can eat ice cream, rant and watch a movie or two."

I grin, feeling the heaviness in my chest disappear. I love this girl, oh my gosh.

"You read my mind. I'd absolutely love it if you can stay!" I exclaim.

"Cool! I'll go home, pack my things, inform mum and be here before you get back from your date."

"Sounds good."

We walk down the stairs and head to the living room, where mother and Damien are exchanging banter. When we enter, we catch their attention. Damien's bright blue eyes land on me and they widen. He stands up quickly, wearing a black collar shirt with the first two buttons undone, black slim trousers and a pair of polished black leather shoes. His jet-black hair is neatly combed back into a low ponytail.

"It's about time you got ready, Dorothy dear," mother says, standing up. "You made poor Damien wait."

"No, it's absolutely alright. I'd wait a whole night if I had to," he blurts, still staring at me.