"Just call him," Morgan commands me.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Because I said so."
She rolls her eyes and falls backwards onto my bed. We are both sitting across from eachother, with my phone in between us. It has been a back and forth bicker for what seems like the past hour, debating on whether or not to call my previous man of the night. I had been close to calling him a few times, and actually got to the point of dialing his number, but then exiting out like the chicken I am.
"I don't understand you at all Allyson," she sighs.
"Actually, you understand me more than anyone," I admit.
"Then I don't know how anyone else can deal with you."
She sits up again, snatching my phone from over the sheets.
"Fine, then I'm calling him," she snaps, already searching his name in my contacts.
"No!" I shout at her, trying to grab the phone, but it is out of reach. I continue to try to retrieve it until I hear the muzzled sound of a voice on the other end of the phone.
"Hey there, Kevin," Morgan says and I can't make out his reply.
"Oh no, I'm a good friend of her's though. Really good friend on that," are they referring to me?
Obviously, who else would he be talking about that's good friends with Morgan. Sometimes I wonder why Harvard ever offered me a scholarship when I have irrational thoughts like this. I guess there's a difference with being book smart and just being stupid, and apparently you can be both.
"I think she and I both would love if you came over for another drink," Morgan smirks and my stomach drops. She did not just offer that. Or did he offer to see us? Or just me?
"Tonight?" I mouth to her, so theres absolutely no chance he can hear me. I don't want him to know I don't want him to come over.
"Tonight?" she repeats into the phone.
"No!" I whisper-shout. It's not that I don't want to see him. It's just, I don't want him to see me like this. I do like him, maybe not as anything more than a friend for right now, but I don't want to spoil anything we could potentially have.
"Tonight is great!" she smiles.
"Okay, see you then. Make sure to bring whine," she clicks the phone off.
"See, how bad was that?" she says, returning the phone back to me.
"How could you offer him to come over tonight! I'm still hungover from last night and I haven't even showered," I whine.
I lift up my arm to smell myself, and I'm surprised when the lingering scent of my cheap perfume is still on me. That's a good thing, right? Minus the reek of alchohol in my breath. I should probably get on brushing my teeth too. And take some more advil for this massive headache that is fortunately starting to fade minute by minute. I make a mental note to not drink that heavily for a long while. And stick to water for the rest of the week.
Well, maybe just a drink or two.
I do have to de-stress my self.
"Don't worry. You worry too much. He's not coming til seven," she reassures me.
"What time is it now?" I ask as I turn my head over to my alarm clock.
"Five thirty," she says just as I read it myself.
I immediately jump off of my bed and sprint to my closet, bawfled by the time.
"Morgan I have like two minutes to get ready! This is so insane, I don't have anything to wear either."
I slide open the doors, revealing my clothing. I don't have much, mostly because I can't afford to buy clothes all too often, but I can't complain. There are worse things in life than not having the perfect wardrobe.
I've grown to learn that all too much.
I grab some dark washed jeans and a deep purple top. Then I replace the top with a more casual, baseball style tee.
"I'll be taking that," Morgan says, grabbing the purple shirt I just hung back up, and walking out of my room to put it on.
"Typical," I mumble, making my way towards the bathroom.
After waiting for the water to heat up, I step underneath the shower, letting the tiny droplets hit my back. The feeling soothes me, taking away some of the stress I have developed. I hope I didn't do or say anything stupid last night that he will remind me, and I will totally regret. I am partially surprised he even agreed to come over tonight. I've met guys at bars for sure, but no one ever wants to see me, again. I guess that's why it's called a one night stand. Even though, I've never let it go that far. I'd like to remain a virgin, unlike my best friend who doesn't seem to have a problem with sleeping around.
Ten minutes later I am drying myself off and quickly throwing my clothing on. I brush my teeth and even blow dry my hair, letting it fall down straight. It's not that long in length, just below my shoulders. But, it is incredibly thick, which I find to be very bittersweet.
I take some time doing my makeup, but nothing too extreme. I don't want to look completely fake for this guy. I do think I can start to like him. And he doesn't seem like the person who would want a girl covered in ten pounds of makeup and skanky clothing.
He has some nice contributing features, after all.
His blonde hair that he scratches when he's nervous or doesn't know what to say, his honesty, and generosity.
His bellowing laugh, the way his eyes sparkle only some times, his sense of humor.
It takes me a few moments to realize that I am no longer describing the person coming to my apartment shortly, but someone else that may or may not be beginning to occupy my heart, whether I like it or not.
I shake my head and sigh. I need to get my priorities straight, consider my reality, and get over the fact that crushing on teenage sensations isn't exactly actuality.
Once I'm done and some what pleased with how I look, I race downstairs to get started on cooking whatever I can find. Morgan is laying on the couch watching ESPN with her feet perched on the coffee table.
"So what's Cheff Allyson cooking up tonight?" she shouts across the rooms.
"Whatever Cheff Allyson can find in the fridge," I shout back, opening the refridgerator.
I pull out some salsa, and then quickly whip up some guacamole. My go-to snack. I hope he's not expecting dinner, because this is what he's getting. Once the chips and dips are displayed, I put out some cheese and crackers, too. It will go nice with the whine he was ordered to bring.
I turn on my phone to read the time, and also see a message from Kevin.
*I'll be there right at 7. Can't wait (;*
I smile at the text, replying that I am excited too, and put my phone in my back pocket. Ten minutes until seven, so I have untill then to relax and think of some topics I can bring up when he arrives, so it isn't awkward.
I can only imagine it now.
"Hey."
"Hey!"
"How are you?"
"Hungover. With a headache that is finally starting to fade. From all the drinks you bought me last night. But it's okay, because I actually like to meet cute blondes at bars on the daily. It's actually a hobby of mine."
There's a couple of knocks at the door and I freeze. He said he would be here right at seven, why would he come now? And he just texted me saying that he wouldn't be here for another ten minutes.
I'm not ready. Not mentally, emotionally, or physically.
My eyes dart to Morgan and she waves her hands at me to answer the door.
"I don't want too!" I try to shout, but keep my voice low so Kevin can't hear me.
"He's your guy!" she says, using the same tone.
"You invited him!"
"Fine, let him stand outside in the cold. He can freeze for all I care, more guacamole for me," she says, relaxing back into her seat on the couch and I growl at her.
I quickly run to the mirror that is above a vanity table by the end of the stairs, and check my makeup and hair. I tossle the strands that fall in front of my face, trying to make myself look casual, but pretty. Not try hard, but to get the point across that I care enough of how he thinks I look. But that I also don't care at all because I am an independent woman.
Ugh, why is being a girl so difficult.
"I guess you are gonna let him freeze out there," Morgan says.
"Oh shut up," I tell her, opening the door.
But the face I expected to see doesn't match the blonde hair I did.