"I still cannot believe my little sexually-shy Sarah went all the way," Bridgette says from the other side of the clothes rack. I peer at her from my side, and mumble, "Could you say that just a little louder? I don't think the cashiers heard you."
Bridgette looks over her shoulder at the two platinum blondes in crop tops and wildly inappropriate short skirts, and she takes my advice seriously and says, "Sarah, I can't believe you and Jay had sex on the first date!"
Everyone in the entire store looks over at my red-headed fog horn of a friend with gaping mouths, and then their gazes turn to me. I'm definitely blushing as I calmly and quickly walk around the circular rack and grab Bridgette by the arm. I drag her out of the store all while she laughs her head off at my expense.
I deposit Bridge on a bench just outside the storefront, and as soon as she falls onto the bench, she lays across it, laughing hysterically the entire time. I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot against the tiled floor irritatedly.
She snorts rather obnoxiously and finally pulls herself upright. Her straight, red hair has partially come out of its elaborate bun, and her perfectly ironed, sheer blouse is now a wrinkled mess, but she doesn't seem to mind.
In fact she hasn't seemed to care much about her entire outfit being perfectly matched recently, which I've come to conclude is because of the magic spell Heather has put over her. Usually Bridge will fret and fuss about her outfit, hair, make-up, and all that jazz, but recently she hasn't put too much thought into keeping her appearance picture perfect all fourteen hours she's awake a day.
Just earlier when we got to the mall an hour ago, Bridgette Valencia, the girl who swore off sweatpants sophomore year because they "just weren't working for her anymore," went into the first store she saw and bought herself a pair. When I questioned her about it, she simply said, while handing over her credit card, "Heather told me I looked good in a pair of hers the other day."
"Well, Jay told me I looked good in one of his button downs last week, but you don't see me going out and buying one," I had replied, which got me thinking about Jay for the fifty-fifth time today.
When Jay came back over last Saturday night, he was welcomed by all members of our house. We all had a wonderful dinner of pizza and breadsticks, and we all vetoed Nick's vote of which movie he wanted to watch and ended up watching some testosterone-filled movie where they drive a bus around a city for two straight hours, but I never caught the name of it, and even if I did, I wouldn't remember it because I was too enthralled by the blonde beauty sitting awfully close to me the entire movie.
Afterwards, everyone went to bed, except Jay and I, who stayed up until the wee hours of the morning doing anything but sleeping. And just a few hours of sleep and a large breakfast spread later, Jay and I said our goodbyes for a week because he was going to Washington with his family for Thanksgiving. "I don't want to go, Sarah, but I have to."
"They can't make you do anything," I said as I pressed my lips against his. I had led him over to the side of the house, just inside the tall, white-picket fence so we could have some privacy to say our goodbyes. He hadn't mentioned this whole leaving for a week thing until that morning around two in the morning. I'm still peeved at him for that, yet again reverting to old habits and keeping secrets from me.
"Actually, they can. They threatened to revoke my freedom, threatened to give me a bodyguard like my parents and Annalise," he looked me in the eye. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and he had a few emerging pimples up on his hairline. Not even my Jay is perfect. "So, unfortunately, they can make me do just about anything they want."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to tough it out," I said with a faint smile. He pressed me into the siding of the house and kissed me a while longer, until it became obvious him and I weren't just having a spirited conversation about air travel, which was what we were doing when we exited the house. A few minutes later he let go of me and flipped the lock on the gate and walked to the curb. He gave me one last little wave and drove off.
Now, just one day shy of a week since I've seen him, I'm beginning to miss him yet again. He lands tomorrow afternoon, so I might get to see him tomorrow afternoon if all goes well.
And God, do I hope all goes well.
We had a fabulous two whole days of each other, and then he just up and leaves with a few hours notice for an entire week. That got me thinking about what happens when him and Tony graduate in May. What happens then? In the fall, Tony's going to go and play football, and I'll only be a senior in high school by then, but what about Jay? He hasn't really discussed the topic of college. I definitely don't expect him to stick around here, and, hell, if I wasn't tied down for another eight years, I'd be long gone after I graduate, but I have to wonder if he would stay if he had incentive.
Bridgette snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Come on. Let's go." She grabs my wrist and pulls me along behind her as she marches down the mall past a number of stores I'm shocked she doesn't want to go in to. She's headed somewhere, but I have no clue where. I don't come to the mall much except around Christmas time, and even then, it's a very limited set of stores I go into. I definitely haven't set foot in any of the jewelry stores or the higher end department stores in this mall, so when Bridgette crosses the threshold into Nordstrom, I'm a tad shell-shocked.
Names of the rich and famous adorn the labels and wall spaces above the abundant racks of clothing. Designer shoes and handbags set on tables, waiting to be modeled and subsequently purchased. People mill about with arms loaded up with anything and everything from dresses to men's dress pants. Salespeople chat up the customers at the checkouts and in the dressing rooms. If I didn't know any better, I'd assume this store was an entire country of its own based on its sheer size.
"This place is huge," I say as board the escalator on our way to the second level. Bridgette turns to face me and says with a huge grin, "And that's only half of it."
At the top of the escalator, we step off and veer off to the right, off to an entire section dedicated to dresses for all occasions. Bridgette throws her hands up in the air as we approach it and elatedly declares, "Welcome to paradise, my friend!"
I tilt my head confusedly and ask, "Why are we here?"
The only reason I came to the mall today was to get Connor and Nick some dress pants for their upcoming Christmas program next Friday. I luckily remembered to ask them this morning if their old pants still fit because I was not running out Thursday night to get them. When I called Bridge to see if she wanted to tag along, she delightfully squealed in my ear. She never mentioned what she needed from the mall, just that she would most definitely tag along, but now I'm putting all of the pieces of the puzzle together.
Winter Formal is two weeks from today, and I have yet to hear about how sexy and gorgeous Bridge's dress yet, and the lack of that has to be because she hasn't bought her dress yet.
Oh, man. I think silently to myself as I watch Bridge wave her hands around and spin around in a small circle. There goes my free Saturday.
"Winter Formal is in exactly two weeks, and you and I need to get dresses," she says.
"There's just one little flaw with that plan, Bridge," I wistfully smile. Her hands drop out of the air and land at her sides.
"Please tell me it's not what I think it is," she pleas.
I solemnly nod and confirm her fears, "He hasn't asked me yet."
She groans loudly, loud enough to gain a confused glance from the woman working the fitting room nearest us, and then Bridge, being the two-year-old she is at heart, stomps her feet against the imitation-marble floor and clenches her fists tightly. "Goddammit, Keely."
"Bridge, we just started dating, and not to mention he's been gone for a week. The thought probably hasn't crossed his mind." And truthfully, the thought hadn't crossed my mind either.
Even before Jay and I started going out, I had no intentions of attending Grindfest Winter Edition, which it was notably dubbed a few years ago. The thought of attending Blue Balls, a wonderful twist on the Snow Ball theme last year, means more work for me than the reward is worth. I'd have to find a baby-sitter willing to watch twin boys for at least six hours, or call my dad and convince him to take one day off from his precious job to watch the boys. Also, I'd have to find a dress that wouldn't give my dad a heart attack when he sees the Visa bill.
All of those things sound very labor intensive, and I do a lot of labor intensive shit as it is.
Up until now, there was no chance you'd get me to add more shit to my already mile long of list of things to do, but once my eyes focus on this teal dress displayed on a mannequin just yards away from me, I decide I could at least toss around the idea, not thinking about the fact that Jay hasn't even asked me.
Bridgette follows my gaze, swiveling her head to study the dress as intently as I am. The sweetheart neckline all the way down to about halfway through the torso is bejeweled, and the rest of it is teal chiffon that flows seemlessly all the way to the ground. I've never seen something so gorgeous in my life.
All of my life, I have had to grow up around a constant string of males, who never wanted to play Barbies or dress-up. All my brothers wanted to do was ram trucks into my head while I was coloring. I mean, sure, I had friends who were of the female gender growing up; I wasn't a total social outcast. But my mom had four kids to take care of, so it wasn't like she could run around and take me anywhere for playdates. I was needed to hold one baby while she changed or fed the other baby.
So, for once in my life, I want all the attention to be on me, and this dress is the thing that will do it.
"I need that dress," I say as I begin to rush across the floor to get to it. I half walk half jog with a renewed purpose in my life. I hear Bridgette catching up behind me, mumbling about how she would've looked great in that dress if she didn't have her wretched red hair.
Bridge grabs a fitting room while I split off to nab the dress. I sift through the racks upon racks of dresses until I find it, just as beautiful as on the display. I pluck a size five off the rack and trod off to the dressing rooms.
Bridgette beckons me from the first room on the left. She hustles me in and shuts the door, giving me specific instructions on how to make my entrance while wearing this masterpiece. "You have to go in by yourself. Without Jay at your side. I'll get the DJ to stop the music and everyone will advert their eyes to the staircase. I bet I could convince one of the tech guys to rig a spotlight if I promised them second base-"
I step out of the dressing room and instantly shut Bridge up. Her hand raises to her dropped jaw and smiles, not a smirk, but a wholesome, genuine smile. Her eyes twinkle with that twinkle people get when they're about to cry. "I take it it looks good?" I ask her as she trails behind me on our route to the big three-way mirror.
"Stunning."
And she's right. I step up on the pedestal and look at the mirror right in front of me. My blonde hair falls just past my shoulders in loose curls, and my blue eyes are as bright and blue as they've ever been before. Shockingly, this dress is helping in the chest area, an area that is just depressing when compared to others'. And not to mention, it makes my ass looks like I have one, which is always a plus.
Aside from the whole butt and boob enhancement, the dress is truly exquisite. The blue hue compliments my hair and my fair complexion. I run my hands over the jewels on the bodice. I catch Bridgette's lazy smile in the background of the mirror. I suppose if my mother was here, she would be doing the same thing, but honestly, I'm much happier Bridgette's here. Bridgette's stuck by me through everything that's happened in the last year, and I can't thank her enough for that.
I step off the pedestal and wrap my arms around her. She copies my action and pulls me in close. "Sarah, you look beautiful," she whispers in my ear. I pull back and smile at her. A few tears are threatening to boil over the rim of her bottom eyelids.
"Thank you, Bridge."