sounds distracted. Uninterested.
“I’m meeting someone at Think.”
“Yeah? Who?” He looks at his phone.
I sigh. “Jude.”
He nods and sips his water. “Cool. Have fun.”
Frowning, I step outside with Bean, hoping to close the door and end the conversation, but Logan wanders out.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask him.
“Going out with Emmy.”
He is? Since when? I knew they’d been talking, but this is new. And I’m glad about it. Right? Number one is happening like I planned.
“Oh. Where are you going?” I ask.
“We haven’t decided yet. Dinner. Then we’ll see.”
O-kay. Hello, vague. “Well, have a good time.”
“Thanks, you too. Oh, and Stevie—a tip,” he says in a bored voice. “You might want to put on a little more makeup. Emmy told me that Jude likes women who look really polished. I guess he dated a makeup artist a while ago and he got a taste for it. Or something like that.”
I stare at him. How weird. But I guess he’s trying to help. “Thanks.”
I leave Logan outside to put food in Bean’s bowl and order my Lyft to go downtown. Then, I glance at my watch. I have a few minutes.
I dart to my bathroom and add more blush. And more lipstick. I layer on the mascara and try to add some eyeliner which frankly doesn’t go very well. Finally, I use this contouring stick that Tamara gave me, so my cheekbones are more defined, and I brush a finishing powder over my face with a tiny bit of glitter in it. The final impression is kind of . . . overdone, in my opinion. But it’s definitely more polished than before.
Logan’s walking to his room as I leave. He looks my way, and his eyes widen. For a second I wonder if he’s about to laugh, but his face immediately calms.
“Looks great,” he says. “He’ll love it. Have fun.”
I leave, feeling more confused about my friend than ever. As I ride in the back of the Lyft, the driver talking my ear off about the upcoming presidential election, Jude texts that he’s waiting outside the gallery and looking forward to seeing me. How sweet.
As I step out of the car, I catch a reflected look at myself in the rearview mirror and nearly stumble. Clearly, my bathroom mirror isn’t as bright as daylight. I don’t look polished; I look like a poorly drawn clown.
But I’m out of options because Jude’s right here. I turn my look of horror to a smile and greet him. His warm expression slips when he gets a good look at me, and his eyes go wide like Logan’s had.
“Um, hey,” he says, “you look . . . great.”
“You too.”
And he does look good, but ugh, he smells terrible as he leans in to kiss me on the cheek. Like he threw a canvas bag over my head and squirted lime juice and alcohol directly into my nostrils. He’s never worn cologne before. Why now? I hate fragrances. They make my eyes water, and I always . . .
“Ah-choo!” I double over.
Oh boy, and now I need a tissue. I dig one out of my bag and blow my nose. Jude and I stare at each other. He looks scared, and I back away a step to avoid a second wave of nasal assault.
I groan inside. Why didn’t I trust my own instincts about my makeup instead of listening to Logan? I’m no cosmetics expert; I never wear much. I shouldn’t have tried to lay it on thick with two minutes to spare in a dimly lit bathroom.
What the heck’s wrong with my best friend? From his shocked expression, Jude clearly doesn’t like a heavily made up woman. And if there’s one thing I am tonight, it’s that. With a forced smile and holding my breath to avoid sucking in more of that awful fake citrusy scent, I follow Jude inside to make the best of it.
We stroll around Think for about an hour, checking out the pieces on display. The current theme is community. The art is mixed media with photography, which is my favorite, and the works include paintings, sculpture, and illustrations of things you’d find in a community, which can really mean anything. There’s even a little room with an experimental auditory and olfactory piece that replicates the sounds and smells of a garbage truck rumbling through an urban neighborhood. Which somehow still smells better than Jude.
I’m apparently as eye-catching as the art. More than one visitor to the gallery does a double