no, I don't have a penny, but I'll show you a good time
You know, if I think about it too much, it's actually kind of weird. Not a bad weird, not an uncomfortable weird, just... odd.
I mean, here I am, in my house, getting ready for a date with Eduardo. First off, he's my friend. And yeah, okay, I'm way past the stage of waffling about pretending that's all he is, in no small part because we've made it pretty clear it isn't, but that's part two - we haven't exactly waited for tonight to start acting the part of boyfriend and girlfriend either. We kind of do everything ass-backwards. I kind of don't mind.
No, rewind, I don't. I don't mind at all.
If anything, Olive's found, it helps. There's no fumbling around trying to figure out what happens next; they are what they are. Granted, that hasn't kept her from being a little nervous about this, but then, compared to her first, last and only date previous to this, there's no way this can't go well. It's not like she needs to worry about not being able to talk to him or not having anything to say or whether or not he'll think she looks pretty or how to keep his interest or what happens after they leave the restaurant or all the hundred other things that make her second-guess herself with boys.
Still, there's a reason they're doing this and she suspects it's for her. Or for Eduardo by way of being for her, because he likes to do things rights, wants to do right by her, and this falls under the parameters of the expected. She should get to go on dates, be a teenage girl, do ordinary things, despite the fact she's never expected this, only wanted to be asked, and despite their locale being in no way ordinary. Maybe it just matters a little more because of that.
It takes the pressure off, knowing he already likes her, wants to be with her, but she still wants to look good. She chose her dress with care, deliberately going for something entirely unlike the black dress from the night she arrived. It took some searching (and a few minor modifications), but she's pretty sure she looks damn good in this one, a lavender frock with an asymmetrical neckline, one shoulder bared; it falls to just above her knees, the cut is clean, the skirt fuller than she usually wears to balance out the top - casual, but acceptable evening wear. She's actually pretty proud of the way she's fixed it up, slipping into darker purple flats when she hears him knock at the door. Tradition says she should play it coy, make him wait, but why the hell would she ever want to? She's there and pulling it open half a minute after the fact, a smile on her face. "Hey."
I mean, here I am, in my house, getting ready for a date with Eduardo. First off, he's my friend. And yeah, okay, I'm way past the stage of waffling about pretending that's all he is, in no small part because we've made it pretty clear it isn't, but that's part two - we haven't exactly waited for tonight to start acting the part of boyfriend and girlfriend either. We kind of do everything ass-backwards. I kind of don't mind.
No, rewind, I don't. I don't mind at all.
If anything, Olive's found, it helps. There's no fumbling around trying to figure out what happens next; they are what they are. Granted, that hasn't kept her from being a little nervous about this, but then, compared to her first, last and only date previous to this, there's no way this can't go well. It's not like she needs to worry about not being able to talk to him or not having anything to say or whether or not he'll think she looks pretty or how to keep his interest or what happens after they leave the restaurant or all the hundred other things that make her second-guess herself with boys.
Still, there's a reason they're doing this and she suspects it's for her. Or for Eduardo by way of being for her, because he likes to do things rights, wants to do right by her, and this falls under the parameters of the expected. She should get to go on dates, be a teenage girl, do ordinary things, despite the fact she's never expected this, only wanted to be asked, and despite their locale being in no way ordinary. Maybe it just matters a little more because of that.
It takes the pressure off, knowing he already likes her, wants to be with her, but she still wants to look good. She chose her dress with care, deliberately going for something entirely unlike the black dress from the night she arrived. It took some searching (and a few minor modifications), but she's pretty sure she looks damn good in this one, a lavender frock with an asymmetrical neckline, one shoulder bared; it falls to just above her knees, the cut is clean, the skirt fuller than she usually wears to balance out the top - casual, but acceptable evening wear. She's actually pretty proud of the way she's fixed it up, slipping into darker purple flats when she hears him knock at the door. Tradition says she should play it coy, make him wait, but why the hell would she ever want to? She's there and pulling it open half a minute after the fact, a smile on her face. "Hey."