Page 23 of The Night We Met

From her spot on her bed, she looks at me with empathy, “Maybe because you’re scared that you might actually like him after tonight? Since I’ve known Mason, he’s beennothing but a gentleman. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

I groan out my frustration. Look into my average looking closet and back at Sarah with puppy dog eyes. “Will you help me please? Your fashion taste is much better than mine.”

With a laugh, Sarah hefts herself off her bed and joins me at my closet. Swiftly putting two pieces together, I never would have thought to put together. “Here…wear this maxi dress and these boots. Now go put those on.” Sarah says as she pushes me into our little bathroom.

Deep breaths Kamryn. It’s not like you haven’t gone out on dates with insanely attractive guys before. Yeah, but not star athletes. When I go out with Liam he gathers plenty of female’s eyes. The looks I get are born out of jealousy. I give myself a pep talk like that will hopefully calm me down.

With the dress and the boots on it still doesn’t look right. Doubt coats my voice as I call out, “Okay. I’m coming out of the bathroom. But I don’t think this looks good.”

“Kamryn, stop whining and let me see.”

I open the door and do a little twirl. “See. Something’s off.”

Sarah puts her finger to her lips to see what can be done. “Let me try something.” She walks over to me and crouches down to mess with the dress. When she’s done she pulls me in front of the mirror. “Done!”

I never would have thought of that. She’s tied the bottom of my dress into a knot so that it kind of cascades down and is still showing off my boots. It’s very bohemian chic. But something is still off.

“You don’t think the boots throw it off?” They look a little clunky.

Sarah eyes my outfit again. She walks back to mycloset and riffles through what I have before coming out with another dress and shoes. “Here, try this dress instead. You have really nice legs. Show them off!”

I swiftly take off the maxi dress and replace it with the shift style mini dress. Then swap the boots for cute sandals. It is still summer in the south after all. I've never been one to wear a dress on a date. Some guys take wearing a dress to mean “easy access”, when it really means “less effort”.

“I like this a lot better! Thanks Sarah.”

“Anytime.” She tells me with a small smile.

My phone chimes with a message from Mason.

Mason: I’m out front.

“He’s here.” I look at Sarah. My nerves have skyrocketed to an all-time high.

“Don’t keep the man waiting. Chop chop!” Sarah demands.

I gather up my little black wristlet and throw my ID, chapstick, lip gloss, debit card, some cash, my dorm key, and a couple sticks of gum in it before I leave. I also make sure I have my Blackberry, because…why wouldn’t I? I say bye to Sarah and tell her not to wait up with a wink.

Walking to the front of my dorm telling myself to calm down. He’s just a guy. A really hunky, athletic, and handsome guy. I push through the door and he turns around at the noise.

“Hey, you,” He greets.

“Hey, yourself,” I falter in my steps a little. Did I really just greet him like that?

He smiles at my greeting. “Ready to go? It’s just up the street, so I figured we’d walk?”

“Okay. Sounds good,” I nervously reply.Why am I so nervous? I’ve been on a handful of dates before. Okay, maybe no date like with Mason. But a date is a date. Right?

We make small talk on the way to the restaurant. Quirky little tidbits that get us making up faux stories that have us cracking up laughing. He puts himself on the street side of the sidewalk, putting his hand on my lower back as we pass other people. His presence puts me at ease, so I’m pleasantly surprised when we stop at a place called Hippy Dippy. It’s a cute pizza place with hipster retro vibes throughout the restaurant. Once we’re seated and the waitress takes our order, that’s when the real conversation starts.

“So where are you really from Kamryn? I am asking you this now since I was shut down the first time I asked.” He says with a wink that has my face flaming with a blush.

“I am actually from Philadelphia. Born and raised.”

“So that explains the accent. You didn’t want to stay there for school?”

This part I dread telling people. “You want the real truth? Or some fake truth?”

“Real truth please.”

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