“I have to get ready. I’m going to a new salon opening with Morgan tonight. Have to get all dolled up,” I say, trying to feign lightheartedness.
The truth is, I’m scared shitless. I’ve never been this afraid to walk out of my home before. But I can’t be a prisoner. I can’t hide here without alarming my parents. And the last thing I need is for them to start asking questions. I’ve never, ever ran from a fight before and I’m not about to start now. I just pray that one side, either the Light or the Dark, wants to keep me alive enough to intervene if a supernatural threat comes my way. It’d only be right, being that they’re both vying for my allegiance.
“Ok, honey. Will you be having dinner with us? It’s just about ready,” my mom says, hopefully. Our family dinners are becoming more few and far between. I have got to make more of an effort to cherish these moments.
“I’ll grab something really quickly. Morgan wants me to look my best so I need all the time I can get!” I chuckle.
“You are perfect just the way you are,” my dad says. His face is serious, grim even. I flash him a toothy smile to show him that I’m ok, though my insides are snarled with fear and apprehension.
I retreat to my room, and put on some music to drown out the anxiety echoing in my head. I pull out one of the few sexy, chic dresses I own: a black long-sleeve slinky mini dress with a drastic dip in the back. It’s quite provocative and Morgan would approve. I head to the shower to primp myself from head to toe, making sure my skin is silky smooth to the touch. I decide to wash my hair again, since I had a roll in the grass with Dorian. Plus I want to wash the smell of fear off of me completely. After a thorough blow dry, I pull out my curling iron and commence to fashioning dangling ringlets. I then pin my long tresses to one side with a decorative silver hair clip. Perfect! Makeup is my usual routine, with some extra shimmery dark eye shadow and a bit more eyeliner and mascara. I give my cheeks a brief sweep of peach blush and smack on a pinkish-nude lipgloss. I nod to myself in the mirror; I think I did Morgan proud.
I am slipping on my tight black dress and a pair of shimmery black almond-toe platform pumps when I hear the doorbell. Before I can hobble to greet her, Morgan is bounding down the hallway and delving into my room with excitement.
“I can’t wait for tonight! If I get hired, do you know what that means? It means that we can get a crazy nice bachelorette pad!” Morgan’s delight is infectious and I sincerely am thrilled for her. If anyone could land a job at an exclusive salon, it’s Morgan. Her talent speaks for itself and she emanates style.
“Well, fix me up if you need to. I know you want me to make an impression, even if I am just your wing-woman,” I wink.
“No, Gabs, you look great! You really do,” she nods, motioning for me to turn around. “Ok, I see you, girl! You are workin’ that dress!” We both giggle with glee, and I truly feel pretty next to Morgan and her 5ft 9in frame draped in a body-hugging peplum dress and red bottom pumps. I can’t believe she actually goes to work wearing things like this, heels and all, standing 8 hours or more. The girl has got a gift.
“Well, my dear, I believe there’s a salon owner to be wowed. Shall we go?” I ask, extending my elbow so Morgan can link her arm in mine. She loops it in and we head downtown in Morgan’s red Mustang.
“So I have to tell you something,” Morgan says, as we head southwest. She turns her music down; uh oh, it must be serious. I brace myself for the worst. “So last night, I went to UCCS for some little gathering they were having. I don’t know- some kegger and one of my classmates took me. I so would have called you but after I spoke to you and you agreed to come with me tonight, I didn’t want to push my luck. Plus it was last minute,” she explains.
“It’s fine, Morg,” I reassure her. She always feels bad about excluding me, though I keep telling her I don’t mind.
“Ok, so of course, I saw James and Miguel there. Everyone is having a good time, drinking, and somehow… I slept with Miguel.” The look on her face is a mix of shame and anticipation.
“Morgan! Are you serious? How?” I ask incredulously. It isn’t like Morgan to hop into bed with a guy just for the hell of it. Especially a lowly college kid.
“I know, I know! It just sort of happened. One minute we’re playing quarters, and the next minute, we’re in his room bumping uglies!” We both erupt with laughter at her analogy.
“So…how was it?” I ask, once our giggles have ceased.
Morgan looks at me with wide eyes. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”