Not all Blondes do Backflips

25 - Tell Me What You See

Dedicated to arielsbk for the banner.

Listen to Tell me what you see by The Beatles or Wild Life by Hedley (for reals yo, this is the ultimate soundtrack to this chapter).

Fair warning, I do not write mush or feelings or kiss scenes (you knew it was coming) very well. 

25 – Tell Me What You See

Saturday has always been date night in the Simms household.

My brothers and I liked to pretend that, when our parents had their 'Barbie and Ken' time, they went out to buy dolls at some fancy-dress-only toy store and then came home, locked themselves in their bedroom and played with those dolls.

The alternative would be to think that our parents did the nasty and, naturally, we'd have to pluck our brains out and fry them.

At ten minutes to six, I heard a knock on my bedroom door.

“Are you decent?” Paul called out.

I studied the face that stared back at me in the mirror. My blonde hair was combed, curled and pinned to relative order. As for my makeup, while I'd applied the rest of it lightly, no one could deny that the bright red lipstick I had on was leaning towards being suggestive.

To hell with it.

“I'm decent enough,” I called back.

Paul opened my bedroom door, took one look at me and smiled. “Cool dress.”

Technically, it was a very boring, very simple dress: short-sleeved with a just-right neckline, tight on the top, flouncy on the bottom and ending a couple of inches above my knee. What made it cool was the print on it – a splash of teals, yellows, lavenders and salmons.

“You look good, Lenn,” Paul assured me when I continued to stare at the mirror.

“Well, duh,” I replied with a smirk. “I didn't need you to tell me that.”

He shook his head. “Then what're you doing staring at the mirror for? You're going to someplace nice and you look nice – I don't see the problem.”

“The problem is, I actually have no clue where we're going,” I admitted. “Finn wouldn't tell me even though I asked him. Repeatedly. But this is good, right?” I pulled at the dress again to smooth out the invisible wrinkles. “It's decent enough to go to some fancy restaurant but with these flats and that denim jacket right there –” I pointed to my bed “– it could pass off as cool casual. I think.”

“Lenn, if Finn does take you somewhere that dress wouldn't work in – like mud sliding or pig wrestling – then you'll know he's not the guy for you,” Paul joked. “He's downstairs, by the way.”

“Shιt.” I gestured for Paul to toss me my jacket. “He's way too early.”

“Maybe he's way too excited,” he smirked.

I stopped in the middle of slipping on my bag and stared at him. “You know, Paul, for a minute there, you had me thinking you didn't have some weird plan to chain me to a tree just so I don't go out on this date.”

“I don't – honest – I'm just here to tell you your date's waiting for you,” Paul insisted with a laugh. “I don't have any chains or ropes to tie you down with. You can even strip search me if you don't believe me.”

“No way, brother-o.” I walked past him to the hallway. “If there's a teenage boy I'm going to be strip searching tonight, it's going to be –”