Selected Perfection

02-Waiting

Rather than let my brain turn to mush trying to keep up with them, I turn to more pleasant thoughts. Tristan's family has plenty of money, as does mine. I wouldn't be surprised if he went all out with the ring. Hopefully by now he knows gold will contrast my pale skin better, I have no doubt he's noticed all of my gold jewelry. And his mother would never let him choose an ugly stone. In fact, if she favors me enough perhaps he even would pass down the family heirloom. My cheeks blush at the thought and I can't help but feel a pleasant warmth blossom inside me.

A hand jerks me to a stop, interrupting all thoughts. "Ili, we're here."

I look forward, my eyes greeted by two long lines. Any passer by may assume there to be a sort of dance or theme park awaiting such excitement. Tristan turns to Alana and me respectively, hugging her and leaving a kiss on my cheek. He leans in and whispers something in her ear, probably some words of encouragement and she nods stiffly. "See you on the other side." Is all he leaves for me, which is perhaps better than a lot of things that could be said.

"Come, let's get our place in line. I don't want to wait any longer than necessary." I lock my arm through Alana's and pull her forward. It is customary to dress your finest for these tests as we know that only the top are selected. Only the most attractive and superior of all get to pass. Alana's eyes trail behind Tristan as he finds a group of his teammates and joins them in line. I can't quite read her expression, but want to distract from any stress. "Your dress is even more gorgeous than it was when you tried it on."

"Hm?" Her voice comes out as a question, as though she didn't quite catch what I said. Then she looks down at herself as though seeing the dress for the first time. "Oh yes, it was very nice of our parents to get these for us." In many ways, it is the opposite of mine. It hugs her hips and has a slit up one leg. Whereas mine is more whimsical fit for a happily ever after, hers is elegant and eye-catching. From the looks of guys on the other side, it's certainly doing its job. "Yours looks beautiful as well."

"Thank you." My voice is giddy, I can't help it.

"Are you...excited for this test?"

"No, of course not. I'm excited for what comes after."

"A celebratory dinner? If it means that much to you you know you could have asked me. I would have taken you-"

"No no no. Not that at all." I pause, I know she doesn't make that much money at her barista job. "But thank you."

"What are you so excited about then?"

"Well," I look around as though checking to make sure no one is watching then wrap my arm over her shoulders and pull her in like we are children sharing a secret. "I think that Tristan may propose afterward. I told you we promised to stay together no matter the results, but he's been so stressed lately and I think it's because of nerves."

Alana's body jerks back and she has to catch herself with one of her heels to keep from falling. "Hold up. Tristan is stressed and you think that's a good sign? Ili, that's terrible. You know we're all worried about this. Nothing would make our parents prouder than if one of us passes." She crosses her arms and we step forward as another person steps through. She left her own brunette curls loose over her back. That, combined with her dark makeup, somehow make her look much older than she is. It wouldn't surprise me if she had an entire game plan on how she can present herself as more mature to stack the odds in her favor.

"Don't you think it's silly?" I ask, preparing to annoy her until she loosens up.

"Whatever it is you're talking about probably not."

"How everyone is dressed up and this day has become a holiday. It's not as though your appearance for one day is going to change whether or not you pass."

"Have you considered that maybe some of us like dressing up? Maybe we like to feel attractive and do our makeup?"

"That's my point. If you like that stuff, then why not do it more often? I know you love stylizing and getting the perfect eyeliner wing as much as I do. Yet, I swear you do so little." I know for a fact that she spent months watching videos to learn how to apply all sorts of makeup until she found her style. She even practiced on me to learn the more difficult techniques. To this day I remember when she burst into my room with cherry red lips and a wild grin; she claimed to have perfected her makeup. Only, within a week or so she gave up on it, option for the dull color schemes everyone wore.

"Maybe, Ili, I don't have the time. Maybe I don't want to wake up early just to do my makeup for a bunch of guys that care more about the contouring of my boobs than my face. To be honest, they probably don't give two shits about anything above my neckline so long as there's a view below." My shoulders wilt inward. Alana lets out a low whistle between her lips and runs her fingers through her hair before wrapping an arm around me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take that out on you."

"Why do you work?" Her eyes roam across the shortening line ahead of us, catching on a girl whose hair is falling out of its style. More and more strands grow wild as she throws her head from side to side anxiously. With her skin taking on a tone as pale as paper I can't help but wonder if she'll faint before reaching the doors to the test.

At last, Alana shrugs and guides me forward. "I like the freedom that comes with it. Working at the Coffee Bean feels like I'm doing something with my life that's meaningful. Grades and exams are important, but one day they won't have any meaning. The money I earn now and experience I gain will last the rest of my life."

"Hmm," I hum thoughtfully. If anyone deserves to pass this test, it's Alana. I never doubted she would, but now I am hoping more than anything she will. "I think I know what you mean." Whenever I'm with Tristan it feels like my life has more meaning than alone. When he is sitting there, truly listening to me, my stories aren't just my memories anymore but something to be shared.

Alana nods her head absentmindedly. So much for a distraction, already her mind has wandered back to the test. For the remainder of our line, I scan across the guys searching for Tristan. He weaves into the crowd so easily, blending with the other men as they share laughter and jostle each other about. Every time he gets bumped, he instantly smooths his clothes, somehow looking even hotter with every adjustment. A few times I catch his eyes, but the last one is cut off by a voice calling my name.

"Iliana Caster, follow me."