Romance in Italy

Romance in Italy - 3

 I look hot, I mused cockily, smoothing my dress with my hand. I inspected my outfit in the full length mirror hanging against my door. Curly, brown hair pulled into a careful ponytail. A white halter dress stopped at my knees. White, soft ballet flats. And some light accessories consisting of a 'love' necklace, some bangles, and a pair of diamond earrings.

 I had hastily swiped on some mascara and eyeliner, a touch of lip gloss and some blush. The makeup pulled the sweet, innocent look I've been carefully putting together perfectly. I smiled lightly and bounced down the stairs, passing Matt, who looked like he'd eaten a bad taco.

One look at his clothes and I knew why. Mom had forced him into a black and white tuxedo, complete with a tie and black, polished shoes. I stifled my laughs. It'd be rude to make fun of him when he looked so handsome, plus, I should be grateful that I got to pick my own clothes. She tends to overdo thing.

The doorbell rang and I breathed a sign of relief, almost afraid she wouldn't show. "I got it!" I yelled and skipped clumsily to the door, wrenching it open and pulled Dani inside, where she jerked her hand away from my grasp, scowling. "Oh, I thought you wouldn't show." I admitted truthfully.

She sniffed daintily. "Why wouldn't I?" Her voice turned sarcastic. "I wouldn't want to miss my best friend and her family having dinner with her hot Chemistry teacher then later flying to Italy for a whole month and no one bothered to tell her best friend." She sniffed again. "So. No, I wouldn't want to miss that."

I grimaced, seeing exactly where she build up that argument. I told her yesterday after school, and her reaction surprised me. Instead of being excited and bubbly, she turned sour and stiff. Having quote, "Why didn't you tell me about this?" I felt guilty for not telling her. But being the usually cheerful person that she is, she quickly shot back up, grinning and begging for details. "I'm sorry." I managed, circling my arms around her shoulders as we stood in the foyer. "Really. I am. But I wasn't sure if I got to go."

She paused, posture slumping slightly. "Well. Can you go?"

"If this dinner goes well." I replied, surveying her from head to toe. "You look good." I complimented.

She grinned, temper fading quickly. See, this is what I love about Danielle. She's not a violent person. Hasn't been since she was a kid. I mean, you'd think she'd throw a tantrum if some idiot broke her cell phone but nope, she just sulked and demanded an apology, instantly forgiving the moron once he uttered the word sorry. Now, if that was me, I would've kicked him where the sun don't shine, bitch-slap him and potentially rendered his ability to have children. While Dani doesn't have a violent streak, I do. And we balanced each other out. "Spent hours throwing this together." She gave a 360 spin, showing me her front, back, and sides.

Her chestnut hair is loose and cascades around her shoulder, the strands curling at the tips. Her make up is dark and suspenseful; black eyeliner and mascara, a wisps of gray eyeshadow, dark, and blood-red lipstick. She wore some skin-tight jeans with a white loose, tank top; her black, lacy bra peeking out from above the neckline, showing a fair amount of cleavage to anyone who happened to look too far. Some black boots and a black cardigan to cover the thin spaghetti straps on her shoulders. I envy her sometimes. She can make any outfit looked good. Like this one. While most girls would make it look slutty and provocative, Dani made it look playful and flirty, not too wild and not too innocent.

I regretted my decisions to go with a look of innocence but I shook the thought away. It was too late to change. And besides, I found the situation slightly ironic. Here I was, dressed like an angel, without a halo for effect while Danielle was dressed like one of Satan's spawn. Or rather, she could be Satan herself. I looked good and pure while she looked dark and spoiled. I grinned. "Well, Dani, those hours have certainly been worth it."