The Untitled Diary of a Girl Named Bones

Now that I was “pretty” according to Bill, he wouldn’t allow me to see myself in the mirror. Whenever I attempted to turn to look in the mirror, he would smack me in the arm (which will now have a lovely, red welt). He went as far as covering the colossal piece of reflective glass.

What? I have a big mirror. I like looking at myself. Got a problem with it?

So I was pouting like my inner six year old. I had my arms crossed, and my lip stuck out. Bill tutted at me and stabbed me in the lip with the lipgloss again.

“Will you stop it?!”

He made a face and in the funniest mocking voice ever “Will you stop it?”

Now, imagine that obnoxiously high-pitched voice guys make to make fun of girls. Now imagine it with a heavy German accent. And lastly, imagine a skinny, tight-jeaned and leather jacket clad Bill saying it.

Did it make you laugh?

Yeah, I thought it did.

Christine walked into the room just as I was about to get my revenge on Bill. Well, not into the room, persay. More the doorframe.

She rubbed her now pink forehead. “Owwww….”

Bill gasped and rushed to her side, “Do you need an ice pack? A paramedic? An oxygen tank?!”

She giggled, “No, I’m fine, you nut. I just walked into the door.” And in a softer voice she added, “Again…”

Bill smiled. “So what reason did you come in here?” I asked.

She smiled. “Oh yeah. Tom’s here!”

A loud shriek and a bang came from my closet. I groaned, “Erin, what did you do?”

“Uh, nothing,” was her sheepish reply. I walked over, liking how my high-heeled feet clicked on my hardwood floor. But the joy of wearing tall shoes was killed by the scene on the floor of my closet. Erin was tangled in an assortment of clothes, shoes, accessories and clothing hangers in my closet. I closed my eyes hoping that it would be gone when I opened them. “Care to explain?”

I opened my eyes. Nope, still there.

“Um, I…fell?” She gave a gigantic ‘Let’s-Pretend-This-Didn’t-Happen” smile.

“Clean this up before I get back and I won’t tell Jon.” She grinned and hugged my nicely shaven leg.

“Okay!”

She was still hugging me.

“Erin, let go. My date’s downstairs.”

“But you smell good!” she whined.

Shortly after I shook my clingy friend off of me, and getting last minute primping by Bill, I took yet another deep breath and took one step down the stairs. I was afraid that if I looked up, I would fall, so I clung to the rail and took another step. Somehow, I made it down the stairs without having some catastrophic fall, which people like me are prone to doing in stilettos.

I am totally taking advantage of the fact that Tom’s tall because I’m tall too, and tall girls never get to wear high heels.

Or, at least I don’t.

I looked up when I stepped onto the landing, my shoes clicking now that I was off carpet. Tom had his back turned to me because he was looking out into the living room. He had one hand at his side, the other was bent at the elbow, holding something.

He jumped, startled by the sudden noise. When he turned, I saw that he had one of the reddest roses I had ever seen.

Yes, it was cheesy and cliché, but hell, life needs one of those moments once in a while.

Once I got past the cuteness of the rose, I took in his attire. He had traded in the baggy street clothes for something much less expected. He was wearing loose, but not baggy mind you, dark blue jeans, nice clean sneakers and a form-fitting black, long sleeve UnderArmor shirt. You know, like the ones athletes wear under jerseys?

Well this was all the more attractive on him, because it was, well, him. And to be truthful, he was very nicely built under all those clothes.

I obviously was staring with my mouth agape, but honestly not caring. He was doing the same. Why, I haven’t the slightest idea. But he was.

Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the big mirror that was hung in the den of my home. Bill was obviously a miracle worker.

I was wearing a short, but not too short black as pitch skirt with black fishnets under them, and a plain white t-shirt with a dark purple blazer over it. And of course the black suede, three and a half inch round-toe pumps I was wearing.

Yes, I am in love with a pair of shoes. Deal with it.

My near-waist length (now all black) hair had been straightened, and then a few random soft curls weaved throughout. And my makeup was amazing. I would have to force Bill to teach me later.

But enough about me. More about the situation at hand.

“This is for you,” Tom said quietly, walking a few steps forward and handing the rose to me.”

“Thank you,” I bit my lip.

Christine popped up out of nowhere, “I’ll go put this in some water,” she said, taking the rose from me, winking and whisking away into the kitchen.

Before I started to stare at him again, I asked, “Are we ready to go?”

I smiled. And he smiled as well, offering me his arm. I linked arms with him, grabbed my little purse with the necessities and stepped out, clinging a bit to Tom while walking down the steps.

He chuckled under his breath at my terrible equilibrium and introduced me to the second rental car of the day: a sleek black Mustang. (I totally bet you readers were thinking “white Escalade!” Teehee.)

“Classy,” I breathed.

“Mhm,” I didn’t realize how close behind me he was. I could feel the vibrations of his agreement. I leaned back on him a bit, and just looked at the stars for a moment.

Ooh, he smells good.

“You smell good,” I stated, voicing my thoughts as usual.

He chuckled and kissed me on the temple. “Come on, let’s go.”

He tugged on my hand, led me to the passenger side, opened the door like a gentleman and shut it once I was situated. He jogged around to the driver’s side, got in, and smiled while he stuck the key in the ignition. The car purred to life. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and tilt my head back with a smile.

What? I can’t help that Mustangs are sexy. It’s a fact of life!

Tom laughed. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me with a cheeky grin.

“Can I help you?” I asked, grinning just as moronically.

He cooed, “Does the pretty car turn you on?”

“So what? I’m a girl that likes cars. I don’t care if you don’t like it,” I harrumphed, crossing my arms and turning away.

I didn’t even see him leaning out of my peripheral vision. Until he whispered in my ear “Oh, but I do.”

I turned my head to (obviously) kiss him because that was one of the most seductive things I have ever heard.

But the little loser pulled back, grinning like an oaf. He put the car in reverse and backed out. We pulled onto the street, and drove for another five minutes.

I was pouting, he was grinning.

“You’re such a tease,” I told him once my lip started hurting.

“Oh, you like it.”

“So?”