Page 87 of Rhet

She comes into view, putting on an earring.

“Where the hell do you think you are going in that shit?”

Shit, that slips out.

“Hello, this isn’t shit.” She spins around so I can see the dress she’s wearing.

Who the hell is she wearing this dress for? I stand in her living room trying to take her all in.

“I don’t think that color looks good on you.” The fuck, it looks fabulous. “What color is it, deep purple?”

“The color is fine, I like the color, it’s wine. You don’t like my dress?” She puts her hands on her hips and does a model pose.

“No, why is there a thread in the middle? It’s really low and short by the way.” Short and sexy. Her curves are on display in this dress, her ass was made for this dress. I pull at my collar; it feels a little tight around my neck.

“First, it’s not a thread, it’s a drawstring. It helps with the ruching of the dress.” She points at drawstrings.

“Why are your sleeves billowing like that? Why can’t the rest of the dress do that? Where is the dress?”

She raises her arms. “These are blouson sleeves. It balances the dress nicely.”

She has her hair down. It’s shining more than usual tonight, and it’s wavy too.

“Where the hell are you going?” Cause I think I may go too.

ZEETA

“Out. Was that all that you needed?” I ask, his face as been expressionless since he saw me. He didn’t stutter, his jaw didn’t drop, nothing. I thought this dress would catch him off guard. Nothing.

Other than he’s his normal jerk self, asking questions that don’t concern him.

“Where the hell are you going?” He shoves his hands in his pocket.

“Out,” I reply, taking out my compact to check my lipstick.

“Out where?” he questions, his lips are pursed, pressing into a flat thin line.

“My personal life is none of your concern, Rhet.” I fluff my hair with my hands.

He stays quiet seemingly, trying to decide how to deal with me.

I roll my eyes and relent. “I’m going on a Bumblebee date.”

“You’re going on a date? That you found on an app?” He sounds so shocked, I should feel offended.

“Yes, is that so hard to believe?” I dust off some lint hanging on the side of my dress.

“With a guy?” he questions. His face is now pale.

“I mean, if a girl asked and she’s cute, why not?” I shimmy my shoulders at him.

His face contours, gestures up and down at me. “Dressed like this?”

“Yup.” I pass my hands down my sides.

“Where are you going though?” He rubs behind his neck.

“Seriously, I am not telling you,” I reply. He doesn’t need to know everything.

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