poppy
I left work again the next Saturday as the Ben's and Jasmine headed off into town for another evening of mayhem. Tall Ben had slowly become my partner in crime. Jasmine and Small Ben were getting sick of our jokes, even if it had only been two weeks.
We watched the same TV shows, listened to the same music, and even had the same taste in YouTube videos. Even Faye had never warmed to the YouTubers I watched religiously. She had always said it was a stupid platform for people who couldn't get real jobs. I told her I didn't care, as long as it made me laugh.
It hadn't taken long for our vocabulary to merge. I found myself using his catch phrases, and he had started using my mannerisms. He was like the brother I never had, only we weren't painstakingly connected by blood.
Tonight they were heading downtown to a club that Small Ben was obsessed with. They played his favourite music, and the other two only put up with it because of the cheap drinks and the attractive crowd. I had wanted to tag along on the off-chance that Oliver was out tonight, not working. But I had turned the offer down.
Instead, Lewis had planned the evening for the two of us, and I was excited for what he had in mind. Even if it did mean missing out on another chance to get to know the people I was working with. And as I said goodbye to the Ben's and Jasmine, Oliver had sent me a thumbs up. He was out tonight. Damn.
The bus ride home had been torture. We seemed to hit every traffic light, and at some points I felt as though the driver was deliberately driving slower than normal because he somehow knew I was eager to get home, and distract myself.
The minute I stepped through the door, I showered and prepped myself for the night ahead. I shaved my legs, washed and blow-dried my hair, and even moisturised my entire body. I didn't know what he had in mind, but I wanted to be prepared for everything.
He had given me instructions to wear something nice, which meant we were going to a restaurant. A nice restaurant.
I flicked through my wardrobe, becoming more and more desperate as I got close to the end of the rail without finding something date-night-appropriate.
My clothes were all ironic or gothic or casual. Need an oversized t-shirt? I have plenty. Hoodies? Loads. Band t-shirts or shirts with comic book graphics? An abundance. But nice clothes?
I snuck out of my bedroom and across the landing, creeping on my tiptoes to not draw attention to my movement into Rachel's room.
She had left some of her clothes here. Clothes that she didn't want to take into her adult life, and clothes that Mum hadn't gotten round to donating. There would be something appropriate in her wardrobe, for sure. She had spent her teenage years wearing pastels and pinks, and t-shirts that deliberately had frilly hems. I shuddered at the thought, but I knew that was what Lewis wanted.
I switched the light on and opened the wardrobe doors. It was as though she still lived here. She had more clothes that I did, and she didn't wear any of this stuff.
I was struck immediately by the array of colours. I might deliberately dye my hair stupid colours, but the thought of wearing them everyday was different.
Rachel had organised her clothes by item, and then by colour. I flicked through the camisoles, the t-shirts, the blouses, the shirts, the blazers, until I got to the dresses.
There was short, long, long sleeved, no sleeves. I picked one at random, closing my eyes and reaching out, telling myself whatever I picked, I would wear.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I picked a dress. I was reluctant to open them, but when I did I was pleasantly surprised.
It was a deep green t-shirt bodycon dress. Luckily it wouldn't clash too much with my hair. In fact, together they could look quite nice.
I snuck back across the hall and got changed.
The dress fit like a glove. Its stretchy fabric wrapped around my body perfectly. I hid my bra straps beneath the dress's straps, and fluffed my hair out. I was never one to admit that I looked nice, but I had to admit that I looked pretty good.
I finished the outfit off with a pair of ankle boots and my leather jacket, doused myself in a fruity perfume and waited for Lewis's message to say he was outside.
Mum and Dad were in the kitchen. Even two floors above them, I could hear their bickering. Lewis had asked countless amounts of times why I had never invited him in to meet them, and I hadn't been able to explain just how much he would regret stepping through the front door without actually show him. Tonight, if he asked, I might just do that. Show him my little slice of hell.
As the clock display on my phone turned to seven, he messaged me. He was always dead on time. Either he was the most time efficient person that had ever existed, or he was always early and waited outside for the very second the clocks changed.
I skipped down the stairs. My parents grew more and more quiet the closer I got, until I was stood in front of them and they were stone cold silent.
"Where are you going?" Dad asked.
The t-shirt he was wearing looked too big on him. Maybe the stress of his marriage was eating away at his body.
"Out."
"With?"
I sighed. This was it. The moment I had been dreading. "Lewis."
"Who's Lewis?" Mum asked.
I had only briefly mentioned him in passing, his name slipping so deeply into conversation that she hadn't batted her eyelids.
"A boy I've been seeing."
Dad smirked. "Are you going to invite the poor boy in?"
Hell no. "We have dinner reservations," I lied, reaching for the door.
But low and behold, when I swung the door open, Lewis was stood inches away from it. I looked at him, trying somehow to communicate telepathically that we needed to leave now but it didn't translate. He just smiled at me, oblibious.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to him, before pulling him over the threshold and towards my parents. "Mum, Dad, this is Lewis."
"It's lovely to meet you, Mr and Mrs Jameson."
I tried to see my parents through his eyes, for the first time.
My mum looked weathered. Her blunt bob had started to grow out and her once brown hair was sprinkled with white strands. The lines on her face had deepened over the last few years, and her clothes hung from her small body.
My dad's white hair and glasses made him look older than he actually was, and paired with what remained of his belly, he could pass as a shopping centre Santa around Christmas. He was curled over a mug of coffee, his iPad illuminating the skin that hung from his face.
They looked like a sorry pair, anybody could see that. But they both smiled, showing too much teeth.
"It's nice to meet you, son," Dad said. He didn't move from his barstool, and Mum didn't move from behind the counter where she was buttering a slice of toast.
"Well, this was perfect, but we have to go." I pushed Lewis out of the kitchen and towards the front door.
"Have a nice night!" my mum called after us, her voice lighter than it had been in months. "Have her home by eleven!"
"I will do, Mrs Jameson," Lewis called back.
I closed the door behind us. The entire interaction may have lasted less than a minute, but I was exhausted. And who the hell was the happy lady who had suddenly given me a curfew?
We stood beneath the porch light for a second. I needed a moment to process what had happened.
"They seem nice," he said.
I shook my head. "Those were not my parents."
He laughed. "You look beautiful. Is this new?" He ran his fingertips down the side of the dress. I shivered beneath his touch.
"It was my sister's," I told him as we started down the driveway.
"It looks amazing on you," he said, slipping his hand into mine.
I blushed, thankful that he couldn't see in the darkness.
He steered me down the street towards the main road, where I assumed we would be catching the bus into town.
"Where are we going, anyway?"
He was wearing a white shirt with a neat pair of black skinny jeans, and a shiny black shoes. Even with his big puffy coat on, he looked perfectly put together.
"You'll see."