Unraveling (Second Chances) - By Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,33
out tonight, what with it being Friday, but my sister has a ballet recital.”
“Wait… I thought your sister was sixteen?” I questioned, sliding my purse up to rest on my shoulder. It was a huge purse; like the kind you could fit a sink in, and cobalt blue. It was my favorite though, and despite its years of abuse, it was holding up well.
“She is,” Jared said, moving across the room to the weights. I followed him and watched as he picked one up. The muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled.
“But she still does ballet? Isn’t that something for younger kids?”
He shrugged. “She loves it, always has. It’s been an escape for her, just like fighting has been for me. She’s really good. A couple schools in New York already have their eye on her.”
“Really?” I raised a brow in shock. “That’s incredible. I’d love to see her perform.”
“You would?” he dropped the weight he had been using on the ground and grabbed a heavier one.
“Oh gosh! I wasn’t trying to invite myself!” I blushed.
Jared laughed. “I know. I didn’t ask, because I figured you wouldn’t be interested. But…” he met my eyes, “if you want to go, I’d love for you to come. Plus, you’ll get to meet my sister.”
“Do you want me to meet your sister?” I nervously swayed back and forth.
“Of course,” he answered without hesitation.
“Um… yeah, I’ll go.”
A smile stole across his face. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I can meet you there,” I looked at the ground.
He sighed. “Katy, I’m not going to break into your house and kill you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. This is just me, being a nice guy, wanting to pick up his girl.”
“Your girl?” I raised a brow.
He stood, so that he towered over me, making me feel like a small fairy in his presence. “You are most definitely my girl, even if you don’t know it yet.”
I swallowed and squeaked, “Oh.”
“Seven,” he pointed at me. “Text me your address.”
“O-o-kay,” I knew there was no point in arguing with Jared.
I turned around and was almost out the door when he said, “Katy?”
“Yeah,” I turned around.
“They said this is a semi-formal event, whatever that means,” he shrugged. “So you’ll need to wear a dress.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll –uh- see you at seven.”
He grinned and went back to his workout.
When I got in my car, I looked at the clock. I had approximately three hours to shower, do my hair, and find a dress.
I was so screwed.
I pulled my phone out and called Piper, “I need your help.”
~***~
“Tomorrow,” Piper warned, traipsing into my condo, “we are going shopping. No questions asked. Did you shower?” she asked, closing the door.
“Showered and dried my hair.”
“Good,” she said. “Then it shouldn’t take me long to have you looking decent. You know,” she dropped her bag and a dress down on the couch, “this is starting to become a habit.”
“What can I say? I haven’t had a need to buy dress clothes.”
Piper shook her head. “You are going to the mall tomorrow, even if I have to shackle myself to you.”
“Hey, I wasn’t arguing. In fact, I was going to ask you if we could go. I need your opinion when it comes to fashion. Everything I own is tees, leggings, jeans, and more tees.”
“Alright, stop chit-chatting,” Piper said. “I need to curl your hair. And look,” she grabbed something out of her bag, “I even brought a curling wand. That thing you call a curling iron is prehistoric.”
I laughed. “Just make me look pretty.”
Piper rolled her eyes and dragged me into the bathroom by the sleeve of my t-shirt.
In no time, she had my hair curled with half of it pulled back, and a few shorter pieces framing my face.
She left me to do my make-up.
It hadn’t escaped my attention that she’d grabbed my shirt earlier and hadn’t touched my bare skin. I figured Rollo had clued her in.
I dusted some purple eye shadow onto my lids and decided to just ask her.
“Did –uh- Rollo, say anything to you, about me?” I asked, hesitantly.
“He just told me you don’t like to be touched. He didn’t tell me why, if that’s what you’re wondering. Use the magenta lip stain,” she pointed to the different makeup items I had cluttered around the countertop. I put down the peach one I was going to use and grabbed the magenta instead.
“And you don’t think I’m weird?” I probed.
She laughed. “No, everyone has their quirks, Katy.