Let Yourself Fall

five

"Fine!" I give in. "You owe me big, Michele!"

"Yay." She jumps up and claps her manicured hands. "Thank you. Now let me find something for you to wear." And before I can complain again, she opens my closet.

What have I gotten myself into?

I fiddle with the hem of my short red dress, which fits my slim, yet curvy figure perfectly—but I would never admit that to Michele—and I stare down at my black high heels.

Why can't this night be over already?

She's done an amazing job of dressing me up like a real-life Barbie doll, and I've never felt more uncomfortable in my life.

My long brown hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and my green eyes are accentuated with black eyeliner and plenty of mascara. To my relief, I managed to convince her to use the nude lipstick instead of... well, the red one.

The guy in his black leather jacket and tight skinny jeans flashes his white teeth, and a cold shiver runs through my body. I look at Michele and stare at her in utter disbelief.

She looks... fascinated.

Mesmerized, even. She stares at the tall, dark-haired man.

But I can't help it— he creeps me out.

I take out my phone to check the time when I notice a text from Damien. It's amazing how happy I always feel when he texts or calls me.

– Damien –

Don't have to stay till next week. I'm back on Friday. Can you talk? x

I smile to myself.

"Michele..." I nudge her shoulder, but she's too engrossed in whatever the guy is whispering in her ear.

Should I stay here or go home and call Damien...

I look around.

The room is dark, with dozens of people dancing to the loud music, moving to the heavy beat as if entranced.

It's dimly lit, with occasional flashes of lights over the dance floor and the bar.

When I glance back at the couple next to me... To my horror, they're already making out.

There's my answer.

Before I reply to Damien's text, I send her a message – talking to her now is not an option – and let her know that I had to go home.

She won't miss me.

Finally in a taxi, I stare at my phone screen, my thumb hovering over Damien's contact...

I press the call button, and seconds later, I hear his voice.

"Hey, you." His raspy voice sends shivers down my spine.

God, what a voice.

"Hey, um..." I clear my throat. "You're back on Friday?"

He chuckles. "I am, and I'd like to take you out. There's this new French restaurant. It's quite difficult to get a table, but a friend of mine is the sous-chef there. How does that sound?"

I gulp.

I've heard about that place.

It's fancy and ridiculously expensive. New York's high society frequents it... I'm not sure if I want to go there.

Other women would kill for the opportunity to dine there. In fact, Michele once said she'd sell her soul for it.

"Damien, you should know that.. I just don't feel like I'd be comfortable at a place like that. I'm sorry, that sounds silly.. ut I Just." I try to explain that he doesn't need to impress me in any particular way – As long as I'm with him, it doesn't matter where we eat or go out.