The Bad Boy's Girl (Now Available as a Paperback and ebook)

Chapter Thirty-Six: My Life, A Congregation Of Life's Cruelest Clichés

This might explain why Megan and Beth are trying to stuff my body into a handkerchief, at least that's what I think it is by the look of it. They like to call it a little black dress, I agreed to disagree. If it takes me dressing like a hooker to finally get my friends to have some fun then so be it. God knows I've done nothing but be a depressed and emotional time bomb the last month and a half. My skin is buffed, polished and plucked. Fake tanners and my legs come to be on a first name basis along with our new best friend, the bronzer. Beth does my makeup eerily similar to her own, going heavy on the eyeliner and eye shadow. My hair is curled and left in big bouncy waves, falling over my shoulders. I've managed to stuff my feet into one of Beth's spiky black high heels and begin to wobble around the room.

Standing in front of a full length mirror, I acknowledge the effort my friends have made. Cliché as it sounds I hardly recognize the girl staring back at me. She looks...different to say the least, prettier. Vain as it sounds, I like the way I look after being tweaked. There's a certain kind of confidence that comes with this look. I've always been someone who's never quite been comfortable in her own skin, but the material changes finally make me feel like I could be someone who a guy like Cole could be with for the long haul.

And someone who doesn't lose out to people like Erica.

It's a petty thought but hey if I look like it then I have to act the part, bring on Diva Tessa.

"So? What's the verdict?" Beth asks as she's trying to tie up her combat boots.  She's wearing a black shimmering playsuit and carrying it with a confidence that is quite foreign to me. Her apprehension gives way to a relieved and satisfied smile when she catches the awestruck look on my face. She knows she's done it; she's given me some of my confidence back. It's what I need for a night out with Cole. Who knew I'd fit the cliché, give a girl the right shoes and she can rule the world? Then again, sometimes it feels like one could call my life a congregation of life's cruelest clichés.

If the alliteration fits...

 "Cole's definitely isn't prepared for what's about to hit him." Megan grins smugly as she curls her own her. She's come around and strongly back to cheerleading for Team Cole. I think Alex had a lot to do with it but she's definitely been more supportive and I could use that in truckloads.

We walk out of the room to a gawking Alex. His lips part and mouth hangs open as he takes us in, in all our club attire glory. But when his come to rest on Megan, we know there's no looking away. She's rocking her deep plum body-con dress so he's a lost cause. I look around for any sign of Cole but am horribly disappointed when I see a post-it note stuck to the fridge. It's his handwriting and when I get closer, the now extremely offensive piece of yellow paper is telling me that Cole would meet us directly at the club. Apparently he has to see some friends who were seemingly more important than spending time with the rest of us.

I try to ignore the hurt and laugh at the rather anti climatic end to my efforts to blow my sort of boyfriend's mind. Now that I think about it, it does put the feminist movement to shame. Dressing up for my man? What decade is this, the1950's?

Scoffing, I pull myself back together and turn to Beth, who's chewing her lip nervously over my shoulder.

"So how drunk are we going to get tonight?"

We end up at a club called 'Nova' where Alex's cousin works. It's convenient enough because we get to skip the queue and no asks us for ID's. Inside, it's exactly like what one would expect a club to look like. What's glaringly obvious is that we're not in a small town anymore. The girls and I sit in the bar section of the club which has a direct view on the dance floor and order our drinks. I let Beth make that decision since some cheap beer and wine is the extent of alcohol knowledge and consumption. Honestly she could possibly kill me from alcohol poisoning and I wouldn't really know that it's happening. In fact I rather like the idea of some good old Tequila, or maybe some Vodka, Whisky has a nice ring to it too and I've always been intrigued by the idea of Scotch. I'm distracted and it's annoying. I want to get lost in the music, dance with my girlfriends, get drunk and wakeup from the hangover from hell but I can't. My eyes are glued to the entrance.