Page 20 of Lovesick
I switched it back on and lunged at Zoe, trying to get the nozzle of the hose to suck up her hair. She shrieked and dashed up the stairs. Not about to lug the heavy vacuum up there, I turned it off, retracted the cord, and put it away. “Maybe…” I stared down a few crumbs on one of the tables. “Maybe just a quick wipe.”
Several Clorox wipes and one rag later, all the surfaces in the living room shone with a new life, and my hands smelled like chemicals. It would be overkill to have a second shower, so I settled for washing my hands twice and conducting a sniff test.
And now, I knew I had better get some work done, because the moment Marty got here there was no way I was going to not spend every second with him. That thought spurred me into editing my research paper due at 11:59 PM tonight one more time.
Just after I hit the submit button, Marty texted me. “On my way.”
Oh my gosh. I had cleaned the house, showered, finished an important assignment, and pretty much everything I needed to before Marty got here…except getting dressed. The floppy shirt and sports shorts I was wearing right now were fine for doing chores, and absolutely not fine for spending time with a handsome man.
Fortunately, when I went upstairs, Zoe was in our room and very willing to take a break from homework to give me a hand with my wardrobe. I wouldn’t say that Abigail and I had no clue what we were doing when it came to cute clothes and fashion, but Zoe was definitely ahead of us both there. Her parents were very well-to-do and clothes shopping was a weekly activity she enjoyed with her mom.
When she held out a crop top jean jacket, a white blouse and a pair of dark leggings she found in my closet, though, I hesitated to take them. I hadn’t worn those leggings in a while, and I had no idea how they would look on me now.
“That’s why you try them on, silly.” Zoe pushed everything into my hands and turned away thumbing through a magazine while I changed.
Most sensible people put on their bottoms before their tops. I put on everything but the leggings first, then had to readjust everything else over them properly. They were tight… I could feel them hugging the curves of my butt just like the jeans had.
But Marty had said my butt was sexy in those jeans. These leggings weren’t that different.
“Done,” I called, adjusting the sleeves of the jacket.
“Yes, girl!” Zoe threw ‘Vogue’ on her bed and circled me like I was a particularly cute piece of shark food. “You look awesome in that. And those brown boots are so perfect.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, this time enthusiastically. I did really like this outfit. Hopefully, Marty would too…
When I opened the door half an hour later to that familiar, handsome face and backward-turned ball cap, the first thing he said was “Wow, you look incredible!”
Both Zoe and Abigail heard that and threw themselves into exaggerated swooning motions out of sight behind the door. I blushed, more from their antics than the compliment. “Thanks.” Marty looked hot as ever - ripped, confident, and those sexy eyes. I could go on forever - and I couldn’t think of a good compliment to give him without it sounding like an echo or a corny cliché. Instead of saying something awkward, I just stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. “Marty, these are my best friends, Zoe,” I pointed. “And Abigail.”
“Hello,” they chimed together, giving Marty the most obvious once-overs possible. To be fair…I had done exactly the same thing with every guy they had ever introduced me to. It was what best friends were for.
“Hi,” Marty greeted them as he looked around the house. “Wow, this place is clean.”
We all exchanged startled looks.
“I mean, for a house full of college chicks,” he backtracked quickly, thinking we had taken offense. “Guys are pretty sloppy… I mean.”
Through that secret best-girlfriend language, we decided just to let that hang. I might explain it to him later if it came up.
We sat down, and I settled into my seat like I was ready to watch a movie with a bowl of popcorn and a soda. I didn’t expect that I would get in a word edgewise during this conversation, so I decided I might as well get comfortable.
I was right. Zoe and Abigail didn’t exactly grill Marty, but they did definitely take him through a thorough gauntlet of questions. He didn’t seem to mind any of them and answered each one as it came, not looking uncomfortable in the slightest.
We didn’t stay too long - Abigail needed to get ready for work, and I wanted Marty to myself. “They seem pretty cool,” Marty observed as we headed out to his truck.
“They’re good friends,” I agreed. “They can be a little…intense, though.”
“They’re just looking out for you.” Marty started the truck.
“Yeah,” I agreed, wondering why Marty didn’t pull away from the curb.
“So…”
“Yeah?” I said again, this time making the word a question. I looked sideways at Marty, who stared back at me…waiting for him to say something deep and philosophical about friendship.
“Uh, where are we going?”
Oh. Yeah.Blushing furiously for the second time today, I told him, “I figured we’d go have dinner, then grab a couple drinks at the bar Abigail works at. It’s in the French Quarter, and she plays the piano.”
