PRECIPICE [h.s.]

Chapter Thirty

☼☼☼

All disasters have an upside

You can find one if you tried

☼☼☼

Let's go on a date,

Jaime P.O.V.

July 8th 1997

 I'm wearing a dress. There is a dress on my body.

I close my bedroom door to look at myself in the mirror that is on the door. I expected to not recognize myself. The scary thing is, I still look like myself just with a little makeup. Mon had softly curled my hair, and my makeup actually looks beautiful.

I felt pretty.

And it's scaring me. I'm not pretty, I'm Jaime. I wear jeans and work at a bar. I don't wear dresses and go to fancy dinners. I felt like an imposter.

But isn't that the whole point? Harry leaves at the end of summer and I will go back to wearing sweatpants. I'm not changing myself, maybe a little enhancing but not changing. As long as I don't puke on his shoes, we'll be okay.

I put on a pair of platform sandals and almost twisted my ankle just walking around my house. I can't wear heels. Shit, why didn't I think of shoes?

I wanna die, but I seriously have no other choice but to wear my white vans with the pink laces. I mean they're not that dirty. And hopefully the restaurant will be dark and I can hide my legs under the table. Do they make the dress look too informal?

I can't believe there isn't a single shoe in my closet that isn't some sort of sneaker or flip flop. Actually, yes I can, because I don't do big fancy dates!

I'm pacing around my house trying not to pull my curls straight. Why am I so nervous?

I go into my kitchen, hoping to drink water just for the sake of calming my breathing down, and my eyes lock on the picture of my father. I don't even know why I put it there, but it was the only photo of my dad I had left. I didn't have the heart to throw it out. My heart aches and my stomach turns as my finger traces the scorched corner of the photo beneath the glass.