First Date

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"You are HOT girl! He's going to fall on his goddamn knees!"

I nervously giggled at my best friend's words, looking up at her as she put one last stroke of mascara on my eyelashes. She had spent the last two hours or so on my hair and makeup. She had come over 20 minutes after I texted her telling her I had a date with a hot guy I had run into at Walmart at 2 in the morning while I was craving chocolate brownie ice cream.

And when I say run into, I mean run into, like full-on head-clashing accidentally-put-a-knee-in-random-hot-stranger's-crotch-when-we-fell-down run into. I think I asked him if he was okay about 567 times while he was laying on the ground holding his crotch.

And after those 567 times, when he got up, random hot stranger (whose name was Dylan, by the way) who apparently thought of me as random not ugly stranger, asked me for my number. And the next day, which was yesterday, he called me and asked me if I would like to go on a date. He told me to dress formal and that he would pick me up at 7, which just happens to be about 5.5 MINUTES FROM NOW.

"Girl, get up right now and look at yourself. That boy is going to be head over heels by the end of the night," my friend told me.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up and walked over to the mirror.

I gasped. I had never looked like this in my life. She had put me in a simple black dress with silver jewelry, with mostly natural makeup other than a bold smoky eye, and my hair in gentle beach waves with half of it up in a fishtail. (There is a picture on the side, but I know sometimes the pictures don't work, so here's a description.)

I don't think I've ever hugged anyone harder in my life. She had made me look beautiful, but still like myself. She hugged me back, and then pushed me away and handed me my black pumps and black, silver-studded clutch, and nudged me toward the door. '

"I just saw headlights pull up. Get your sexy butt out there and knock 'em dead. I'll be sleeping in your bed when you get back, don't you worry."

I walked over to the door, my heart starting to pound against my chest as I saw Dylan walking up to my door and ringing the doorbell. I took one more deep breath before opening the door and placing a huge (real) smile on my face.

"Hey-woah." Dylan's eyes widened when he saw me.

I'm really hoping that's a good thing.

"Uh, hey Dylan. How's your head?" I asked, trying the best I could to pretend that I wasn't checking him out.

It might have been the hardest thing I've ever done. He was clad in a black button-up and black dress pants, with vans on his feet. He should be voted sexiest man alive, for real.

"Y/N? Hello?" Crap. I'd been caught.

"Yeah, sorry. What'd you say?"

"Oh, I just said you look absolutely gorgeous. And my head's fine, how about yours?"

"It's good, thanks. And thanks, you look very handsome," I told him with a light giggle.

"Well, thank you. Ready to go? Or do you want to get some shoes on first?" he asked, a small smile on his face as he winked at me, glancing down at my bare feet.

"Oh, yeah, one second," I blushed, thankful I had gotten a decent pedicure a few days ago. I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my clutch, following him out of the door, shutting it behind me. We walked out to his car and he walked over to the passenger side, opening the door for me. I stepped in as elegantly as I could in five inch heels while he closed the door and crossed to the other side of the car and stepped in. He started the car and drove for a couple of minutes before breaking the slightly awkward silence.

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