☼ ⧉ twenty ₪ anatomy of a date

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"THE MOVIES? MR. SUPERSTAR is taking you to the movies for your first date?" Zac shakes his head adamantly as he riffles through my closet. "How lame."

I poke his hip with my pointed foot. "Is not," I say, bending down to grab the pair of chunky-heeled booties Zac had thrown at me minutes before. "It's a good first date."

     "He's at least taking you for dinner too, right?" He stops searching and pulls out a low-cut, skin tight dress off the hanger, holding it up to his body. "What about this one?"

     "We're going to see a movie; we're not going clubbing." I roll my eyes, grabbing the sweater next to me and chucking it at his head. "And of course he is."

"It's better be nice," he mumbles, hanging the bandage dress back up and pulling out a striped, long sleeve button up shirt. "This one? You can wear it with those black jeans and the red Docs."

"Closer," I say, leaning back my elbows against the mattress and crossing my outstretched legs at the ankle. "I don't need it to be something super fancy, okay? I mean, it'd be nice, but not necessary."

He whipped his head around to me, his eyes serious and piercing. "Every girl deserves a nice first date." He started to pull a different dress out, then changed his mind last second. "Every guy too, for that matter."

       "It will be nice." I nod my head encouragingly, mostly for myself, as I let my back fall  onto the bed. "It will, right?"

     Zac just hums in response, still digging through my closet, which holds more clothes than I remember having. It had started out as me asking his opinion on the outfit I wanted to wear, and turned into him deciding to choose my outfit. "Aha! How about this? It's nice, but not too nice, and if you wear it with that black jacket gathering cobwebs in the back, it'll be perfect?" I crane my neck a little off the comforter to look at the dress in his hands. A cute, probably knee length, halter floral dress drapes over his arms before he holds it up to his chest, folding the hanger down under his neck. "What do you think?"

      I slide off the bed and take it from his hands. "I think you need to leave now so I can get dressed." He grins like the cheshire cat as I usher him out the door, telling me he told me so about his taste in clothes. When he's finally out, I slip into the silky material and slip on the jacket and heels. He is right: he does have good taste in clothes.

     As I'm admiring my outfit in the mirror, I hear the buzzer from the living room, meaning Tom's arrived. Quickly I grab my mascara and lip gloss deciding to go super light on makeup for tonight, one, because I don't generally tend to wear too much makeup any way and, two, because I want to intercept Dad and Zac at the door.

     I race out of my room and to the door just as a knock sounds on the solid wood and open it, shoving Zac onto the couch next to Dad who barely looks up from his book. "Hi," I breathe as I'm welcomed by his smiling face holding a small nosegay of lavender and jasmine, my two favorite scents.

     He offers me the bouquet and I step aside so he can enter the room. "Hey, Zac. Hello, Mr. James—uh, Robert."

"Hello, Tom." Dad gives him a smile and sets his book down, swatting Zac, who's making kissy faces and gestures behind Tom's back.

"Uh, you ready?" Tom glances back at my family before turning and raising his eyebrows at me.

"Yeah, lets go." I hand the flowers to Dad and tell him to put them in a vase for me.

"Have fun, you two," Dad says with a wave as we head out the door.

"Yeah, but not too much fun. Ow!" We were already shutting the door, but I could only assume Dad had smacked him again.

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