Count Me the Hours

After riding with Mila to the bridal shop, I stumbled out of her car, thankful to touch the ground.

“How the fuck did you past your driving test?” I asked her, my voice raised.

“Low-cut shirt and a push-up bra,” she said with a shrug, checking her make up in her compact.

“Why does that not surprise me?” I scoffed with a sigh. In the fifteen minute drive to the shop, Mila had nearly managed to kill us twice and almost hit five cars.

I pulled off my sunglasses as we walked into the shop. I was greeted by powder pink walls and a flowery scent that nearly gagged me. There was pick everywhere and white dresses out the who-haa. As I looked around aimlessly, Mila walked right up to the counter, hitting the bell. A middle-aged woman with greying hair walked out with a smile.

“Right on time, Mila,” the woman said, a thick accent on her voice. She motioned for us to follow her. As we walked behind her, she popped into a store room and came out, garment bag in hand.

“Lu, you're just going to love it!” Mila assured me as the woman led us to a fitting room in the back.

The woman hung the dress from the hook after closing the door behind us, and slowly unzipped the bag.

Inside was a dress, bright green, yet still subtle. The bodice was draped and wrapped asymmetrically, tight down through the hips. From there, it was free flowing. To my surprise, I didn't hate it. Quite actually, I loved it.

“I know it's strapless, but you're going to have to deal with it. I wanted more of an olive color, but I had to settle with apple,” Mila ranted as I admired the dress.

“Strip,” the woman instructed.

I removed my top and shorts, leaving me in my bra and underwear, shivering. They got me into the dress and took me out to the mirror in the showroom to take notes of the alterations that needed to be made.

Mila and my mother had over guesstimated on my measurements, leaving me with a lot of extra room in the hips and waist. They had underestimated the size of my breasts and they were squished to the point that could barely breathe.

As they were taking the final measurements or my hips, one of the girls at the desk cried, “Cock in the hen house!”

We all turned to see Garrett walking around awkwardly. He spotted us and walked over. His eyebrows rose when he saw the dress. Or at least when he was the long line of cleavage the tight top of the dress had created.

“Hi,” I said breathlessly, seeing as how barely any oxygen was reaching my lungs.

“Hey,” he said, still studying my figure in the dress.

“Alright, all done,” the seamstress, Ella, informed me, closing her alteration book.

“Just let me change and I'll be right out,” I told Garrett, shuffling back to the dressing room.

“He wants you,” Mila informed me as she unzipped the dress for me.

“Who wants what?” I asked, feeling the air return to my lungs.

“Garrett. He wants you. Bad. He has ever since you guys broke up in high school,” she explained as I stepped out of the dress.

“Yeah, right,” I said with a scoff, pulling my shorts up my hips.

“Lu, I might not know about a lot of things, but I do know about boys. And he wants you. In his bed. Hot, sweaty, and naked.”

I couldn't help but laugh, rustling my hair as I adjusted my top. “Garrett and I are friends, Mila. Best friends.”

“Well, he wants to get very friendly with you,” she said with a wink as I left the dressing room.

Walking back out to the showroom, I tried to forget what Mila had said. Garrett was right where he'd been before I'd headed back to the dressing room. He looked up at me and smiled.

“Hey, sorry about the wait,” I told him as I approached, pulling the straps of my bag higher up on my shoulder.

“No problem, I've got nothing better to do,” he said as he opened the door of the shop for me.

“So, what's on the agenda for today?” I asked, waiting for him to unlock the car.

“Figured we could go to the diner for lunch, then grab your car. There's a party tonight, somewhere. Eric still has to send me the address, but do you want to go?”

“Free booze, you know I'm in,” I said with a laugh.

“I'm surprised you're not on the liver transplant waited list yet, Tallulah,” he joked as he turned the key in the ignition.

“I am, actually,” I said flatly. He looked over at me and we both laughed. “What time did you end up leaving last night?” I asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“I fell asleep right after you did. I woke up at four, so I left then.”

I nodded. “Just like old times, eh?”

“Yeah, only then we had to wake up and get to school on time.”

I smiled, looking out the window. Even when John and I had been dating, Garrett frequently stayed the night. The private entrance through the garage had made it easy. Nothing had ever happened, but there have been some awkward moments along the way.

I looked over at Garrett and realized how little he'd changed since we'd actually spent time together.

He still drove with his music too loud, his window down, one hand on the wheel, and a small smile on his lips. His thumb tapped along to beat of the song on the stereo.

I let out a quiet laugh and he looked over at me.

“What?”

You haven't changed at all, if you didn't realize that already.”

“But that's a good thing, right? That I haven't changed,” he clarified.

“It's a very good thing, Gare.”

“Good,” he said proudly with a big smile.

A minute later, he pulled into the turn lane and into the parking lot of a very familiar diner.

The Infinity Diner was a favorite of the 60+ crowd, but it's early hours made it perfect for the occasional breakfast meet up. The food was great and not too pricey. When I walked in, I was hit by a blast from the past. The bench seats were still the same shiny red, the walls still covered in the same décor. I couldn't hold back a smile.

Garrett walked past the hostess and straight to a booth near the back. He plopped down on one side of the table while I slid in on the other side.

“How's New York life?” he asked, not even picking up a menu.

“Good. Busy, but good. I share an apartment with Sarah, my roommate from college.”

“Any dating?” he asked. I looked at him over the top of my menu.

“There's a date here and there, but nothing serious,” I said honestly. He nodded as a waitress approached.

“Hey, what can I get ya?” she asked, a bit of a twang to her voice.

“Chocolate milk, triple pancakes, dippy eggs, and bacon,” Garrett told her at rapid fire speen.

“And for you?”

“Iced tea, French toast, scrambled eggs, and wheat toast,” I said, folding my menu and sticking it behind the napkin holder.

“Got it,” she said with a smile and turning on her heel.

“Do you miss this?” he asked after a moment.

“Miss what?”

“This. Tempe in general.”

“I missed Dree, and you, and the rest of the guys, but that's about it,” I said as the waitress brought us each our drinks.

“What about your parents and Mila?”

“Mila, a bit. Mom, ehh...but my father, not at all. What's up with the twenty questions?” I joked, taking a sip of iced tea.

Garrett shrugged and continued, “When are you heading back to New York?”

“Three weeks after the wedding. I didn't want to stay for so long, but Mom pair for my ticket, so I'm not about to protest.”

The next hour was spent that way, catching up and eating. I had forced Garrett into giving me the down-low on how John and Mila had ended up together. It wasn't romantic or cute or anything really. It was as simple as they'd both been drunk at a party, fooled around a bit, and he'd asked her out. What a completely perfect story to tell the grand kids.

Garrett had insisted on paying for lunch, and once we'd left the diner, we headed over to Pat's house to collect my rental car. Pat had conned us into staying for a piece of his mom's amazing cheesecake and we ended up staying for a while.

By the time Garrett dropped me off at my mother's house, it was only two thirty. He'd told me he had some errands to run, but that he'd be back at seven to pick me up for the party. I thanked him for lunch and gave him a smile before sliding out of the car. I stood at the bottom of the stairs in the garage and watched him drive away.

Oh dear, what had I gotten myself into?