“Well, I felt bad that he asked me out and I said no, so I thought I’d make things right by asking him out.”
“God,” Angela sighed. “You are never gonna learn!”
I frowned. “It was just a coffee thing,” I said. “It didn’t even feel like a date. Besides,” I added. “We ran into Hannah – that assistant that Mr. March has.”
“And another thing,” Angela said sternly. “You’ve got to stop calling him Mr. March! He’s going to be your boyfriend soon.”
I blushed hotly. “It just doesn’t feel right,” I said. “He’s so much older than I am.”
Angela groaned. “Girl, you are going to have so much fun with him. Just please, relax and promise that you’ll start calling him Thomas.”
I could feel my blush deepening into a bright crimson. “Okay.”
“And don’t ask out that other guy again, what’s his name?”
“Andy,” I supplied.
“Yeah, Andy. You stay away from him. If he asks you out again, tell him something came up and you’re no longer available.”
“It doesn’t seem right to lie,” I said slowly. My stomach churned just thinking about it. “I’m sure he could tell.”
Angela sighed in exasperation. “Trust me, June, if he calls you on your lie…is that really the kind of guy you want as a boyfriend?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I guess not.”
“Good,” Angela said. “Now come with me.” She stood up and brushed her hands off on her jeans.
“Where are we going?”
“My room,” Angela said triumphantly. “If you’re out with this silver fox, you’d better have something good to wear.”
I bit my lip. “Oh, you’d really do that?”
“Duh,” Angela said. She rolled her eyes for emphasis. “June, you’re going to kill it on this date. Just trust me, girl. If it goes well, he’ll probably ask you for a second date before he even takes you home. He’s older, men that age don’t like
to play games.”
I nodded. “I hope you’re right,” I said softly. “Because I like him so much. I get butterflies in my stomach just listening to his voice.”
Angela pretended to swoon. I threw a couch cushion at her and it bounced off her head. We collapsed in peals of laughter over our sangria – the alcohol was starting to relax me, and take the edge off of some of my nervousness. I didn’t really like being drunk – I’ve only been drunk twice in my life – but a glass of wine (or in this case, sangria) was always nice after a long day.
Angela led me into her room and I flopped on the bed as she opened her closet doors. Immediately, she began grabbing dresses and tossing them towards me. I laughed and dodged the barrage of fabrics as Angela turned around, breathless and excited.
“This one would be perfect,” she said, raising an eyebrow and holding up a tight, black cocktail dress.
“Oh my gosh, no way,” I said, shaking my head. “I couldn’t wear something like that!”
“Why the hell not?” There was a devilish gleam in Angela’s eye. “This would look so great on you, June!”
I blushed. “It’s so tight.” I wrinkled my nose. “Mr. Mar—I mean, Thomas, would think that I was just trying to have sex with him.”
Angela laughed. “Well, you do, right?”
“No!”
“Really?” Angela laughed. “I doubt that, June.”
I colored deeply. “I mean, yeah, I do,” I said softly. “But I want more than that. I want to get to know him.” I swallowed – a lump had been forming in my throat ever since Thomas had first asked me on a date. “I don’t just want him to think that I want him for sex.”