His Best Friend's Sister - Page 7

“Our neon blazing?” I asked, puzzled

“Nineties night,” she said, sounding excited about the prospect.

“Nineties night? Was neon the nineties? I thought that was more the eighties.”

“Then what was the nineties?” she asked.

“I’m thinking more like the crop tops and baby doll tees. I’m not really sure. I wasn’t particularly hip and happening when I was in elementary school.”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s what the internet is for. And there are several thrift shops within a half-hour radius of here that I’m sure would be fertile grounds for finding everything we need to fit right in,” she said.

Melissa sounded right on the brink of exploding with all the excitement. I had a feeling even if I wasn’t up to going out to the bar that night, she would come and drag me out of the house. Fortunately, she wasn’t going to have to go that route. The idea of getting dressed up and going out for the night sounded amazing. Like I told her, it had been a long time since I just went out and had fun.

That was another of the realizations I got from this situation with Steven. Leading up to the wedding, I was so wrapped up in being engaged and getting married, I lost touch with the reality of our relationship. Not that there was anything inherently bad about what we had.

At least, not that I was aware of. Now that I knew he had been carrying on with any number of girls and had actually formed a close enough relationship with one that he was currently living with her, I had a different idea of it. That suggested things were definitely bad, and I just didn’t know.

In my mind, things were just kind of run-of-the-mill. We had gotten into a rhythm, and it’d worked for us in the beginning, and we stuck with it. That meant rarely going out and only seeing other people if they were coming over to his place, or we were going to theirs.

It had probably been more than a year since we’d done anything different or special like going to the theme night at a bar. Just the fact that I was so brimming with excitement only underscored how mundane my life had become.

I couldn’t wait to get out there and just let loose. The last three weeks had been a particular sort of hell, and I wanted to relax and get my mind off all of it.

Melissa was at my parents’ house less than half an hour after we hung up. We sat down in the living room and did an image search, trying to figure out what people wore just a few years after we were born.

“Think we could find any of those metallic miniskirts at the thrift store?” Melissa asked.

“I would only accept wearing them if we could find the matching socks these girls are wearing with their heels,” I said.

We looked at each other and laughed.

The rest of the afternoon played out like a montage from a movie most likely set in the decade we were trying to emulate as we tried on outfits at the thrift store. By the time we got to the bar that night, we were decked out in our very best nineties style.

The bar was completely packed when we got there, a line weaving along the patio and out to the street.

“It’s full,” I said, disappointed. “Look at all these people. We’re not going to get in. And we went to all this trouble.” I let out a sigh. “I’m wearing beige iridescent eye shadow.”

“You insisted on authenticity,” she said.

“Not doing me a whole lot of good right now. It looks like I’m going to be very authentic while waiting outside for the rest of the night.”

“Hold on.” She pulled her phone out of her cleavage, which was the only place she had to stash it considering her choice of metallic minidress she was thrilled to find. She made a call and held the phone to her ear. “I’m outside.” Her eyes slid over to me. “Yes, Becca is here.”

She smiled and hung up, earning a questioning quirk of one eyebrow.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I called Tyler,” she said.

“Tyler?” I asked, feeling a strange sort of jealousy bubble up. “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”

“We’re not,” she said, giving me a look that said I was ruining the vibe she was going for. “I actually just called the bar and he happened to answer.”

I laughed, unexpectedly relieved. “You’re too much.”

The door to the bar opened and Tyler looked out at us. He waved us in, and Melissa and I wove our way through the waiting crowd. There were a few groans and complaints, but we ignored them and happily followed him inside. He led us to the bar where we managed to slide onto stools right as two people left them to go out onto the dance floor.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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