Page 18 of Something that Could Last

In the meantime, Tiff finishes drying my hair and teases it at the crown, then she parts it on the side and sweeps it away from my face. I watch in the mirror as she works to transform my hair into a low, elegant chignon that rests on the back of my head. She crisscrosses and folds and pins my hair, concentrating as intently as an artist would on a masterpiece. Once she’s done, she gives my hair one final spray and steps back to admire her work.

“Not bad,” she boasts, smiling. “It's very Grace Kelly meets Kate Middleton.” She hands me a large, hand-held mirror and I turn in my seat to check out the back.

“Wow, Tiff. That looks amazing.” I am in awe of her raw talent. I look so chic and sophisticated. “You really need to go to beauty school.”

“I've been thinking about applying,” she admits. “Wouldn't start 'til the fall, though. That gives me time to save some money for tuition.” She shrugs apathetically, but I can tell this means more to her than she’s letting on. Tiff has never cared much for school, but I don't think she wants to wait tables the rest of her life, either.

Since Tiff is done pulling and tugging on my hair, I take this opportunity to finish my makeup. I apply nude lipstick and gloss and sweep a little raspberry-colored blush on my cheeks. It's six twenty-four, almost time for Jacob and Luke to pick us up, so we hurry to get dressed. I help Tiff zip up her dress before slipping into my own, then it hits me. My dress is backless.

“Um...Tiff?” I begin warily. “How am I supposed to wear a bra with this dress?”

“You don't,” she replies flatly as she pokes a dangly silver earring through her lobe.

I scowl at her response and she chuckles. “Don't give me that look,” she chides. “I have these adhesive cup things you can wear if you insist,” she says, waving her hand dismissively like it’s ridiculous for me to want to wear a bra. She walks over to her dresser and digs in her top drawer. “Here,” she offers, pulling out what looks like the front half of a bra, minus the straps. “I think it's more trouble than it's worth, but you’re welcome to it.” She gives me the “bra” and I slip off my tank top and put it on. It fits okay, so I'm not sure how Tiff fits her ample... assets into it. No wonder she doesn't think it's worth wearing. It's not ideal, but it’ll have to do.

I finish dressing and Tiff hands me some jewelry. The silver bracelet with rhinestones and chandelier earrings are a nice addition to the beautiful, lacy black dress. I put on the shoes Tiff picked out for me last night and look at myself in the mirror one last time. I barely recognize my own reflection. I feel beautiful. Ilookbeautiful. I stand up a little straighter, feeling more confident than I ever have before. Maybe now I can be on Jacob's level.

Tiff hands me a small, silver clutch to put my lip gloss and cell phone in. “So you won't have to carry your purse,” she explains. That’s probably for the best. I don’t think my raggedy brown crossbody would really go with this outfit.

It's six thirty-seven and I'm starting to get nervous. The guys are late and we haven't heard from them. I sit on the edge of Tiff’s bed, absentmindedly tapping my foot. I check my phone every couple of minutes, worried I’ll miss his call. I jump when it finally buzzes in my hand, alerting me to a new text message:

Running late, be there soon

I'm overcome with a sense of relief. A part of me thought that maybe he'd changed his mind and didn't want to see me again. I'm glad that's not the case. Five minutes have passed since the text from Jacob when we hear the doorbell ring. We grab our clutches and head for the front door.

“I'll get it!” Tiff shouts as we hurry down the hallway. “See you later, Mom,” she yells to her mother when we reach the front door.

“Bye, sweetie. Be careful,” her mom calls back from the kitchen.

Tiff swings the door open to reveal the guys standing on her front porch, but all I see is Jacob. He’s leaning against a support column in light khaki pants and a blue and white striped button-down with his shirtsleeves rolled up, a dark blue blazer thrown over his shoulder. I’m not usually into the preppy look, but he can definitely pull it off. A slow, sexy smile curls up the sides of his mouth as his eyes rake up my body.

“Wow.” He appraises me with his piercing blue gaze. “You are stunning.”

I feel my cheeks flush and my stomach flutter at his compliment. “Thanks. You look rather dashing, yourself,” I reply flirtatiously. I could get used to this new-found confidence. His smile grows even wider and he reaches for me. I accept his outstretched hand and let him lead me to his car.

“Oh, shoot.” Tiff's voice breaks through the hypnotic hold Jacob has over me. “I forgot something. I'll be right back.” She rushes back into the house for a moment and returns with a small cinched bag. I give her a questioning look, curious as to what's in the bag, but she just shoots me a wink and climbs in the back seat.What is that girl up to?I wonder.

We make it to Wolf's Den Lodge just after seven o’clock. The building itself is larger than I anticipated, the wood and stone façade fitting in perfectly with the surrounding landscape. Jacob leads me to the heavy wooden doors as a man in a tux opens one side for us.

“Good evening,” he greets.

I am awestruck at the splendor of this gorgeous building. “Good evening,” I reply, trying to keep my voice from shaking as we pass through the doors and into the foyer. My recently obtained confidence evaporates as I take in my surroundings. I'm so nervous that I'm going to do something wrong and embarrass myself, or even worse, embarrass Jacob. I’m not used to this kind of extravagance. These people are different. They think different, act different, and look different than I do. How do I blend in? I feel like I’m Cinderella and it’s nearing midnight. They’re all gonna know I’m a fraud and don’t belong here. Panic begins to rise to the surface and my hands start to shake.

Jacob senses my mounting anxiety and squeezes my fingers, prompting me to look up at him. “Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his features. The look in his eyes dissolves my anxiety and I relax.

“I'm fine,” I assure him, a soft smile playing on my lips. He gives the maître d' his name and we’re ushered to our table, Tiff and Luke close behind.

The interior of the restaurant is beautifully decorated with subtle rustic accents and warm earth tones. Exposed wood beams support the high ceiling and a large stone fireplace dominates the far side of the room. Simple round, wooden chandeliers create a soft glow, illuminating the space with golden flickers of light. The dark, wide planked floors are made of reclaimed wood with varying grains and depths of color. Tables are covered in soft, cream-colored linens, and chairs made of sturdy wood finished with a walnut stain add to the warmth and ambiance of the room.

We are shown to our table and Jacob pulls my chair out like the gentleman he is. To my surprise, he settles into the seat across from me, leaving the chair next to me vacant. Luke pulls the empty chair out for Tiff and she slides into it, her eyes flicking towards Jacob briefly and then back to me, questioning our seating arrangement. I discreetly shrug my shoulders and scoot my chair in, wondering the same thing. I glance across the small square table and my eyes land immediately on Jacob’s handsome face. Maybe sitting across from and not next to him isn’t so bad, after all. I have the best view in the house.

I peer at him over the flickering candlelight, my stomach in knots, as the waiter recites the specials for the evening. I'm too nervous to really pay attention to what he's saying. Tiff, sensing my trepidation, reaches over and squeezes my wrist under the table. When I look up at her she smiles and mouths, “Relax.” I nod my head and return her smile weakly.

“Would you like to start with a glass of one of our locally made wines?” the waiter asks.

“I'd like a glass of Moscato, please,” Tiff answers.

“Excellent choice. And for you, Miss?” he asks, looking at me expectantly.

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