It Started With A Tweet(110)

I put a final coat of lippy on and rush out of the toilets. The only thing worse than having a dressing-down from my mum about my clothes, is her telling me off for being late.

‘Oops, sorry,’ I say as I turn a corner and bash straight into someone.

‘Woah, there,’ says Mike, a colleague who I sit next to. ‘Where’s the fire?’

I’m tempted to stop and talk to him as he’s with the fit guy from the top, better known as the guy that works in the executives’ department at the top our building. He’s all pin-striped suit and perfect hair, and every time I see him he has a strange effect on me.

I’ve never actually been this close to him, and I try to force myself to keep moving before I fall under the spell of his hypnotic eyes.

‘Sorry, Mike. I’m off to dinner at Le Bistro,’ I say, fluttering my eyelids at the fit guy from the top while trying to show him how sophisticated I am – like I’m the type of girl who goes to posh restaurants all the time.

‘Uh, before you go .?.?.’ he calls.

‘Can’t stop, I’m running really late.’

I give Mike a quick wave over my shoulder and hot step it out of the council offices. I feel a bit rude not stopping to hear what he’s got to say, but I’m sure it was just a question about the audit we’re about to have. We’re all desperately trying to get all our ducks in a row before an inspector comes in to see what we do as a department, but it’s already five past six and if I don’t make it to the restaurant soon, not only will my mum tell me off, but she’ll be left unchaperoned with Will. Any time she’s alone with him she brings up the topic of him proposing.

I dump my work clothes in my car as I pass, before doing a quick jog, or rather totter in these heels, to the restaurant, which is just off the main high street.

I spot my family straight away as I walk past the window – it’s hard not to when they’re the only people in the restaurant. Will looks relieved as I race through the door and over to the table.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late. Work is nuts at the moment,’ I say, leaning over to give my dad a quick peck on the cheek and passing him his present. ‘Happy Birthday.’

‘Thanks, Lexi,’ he says, smiling up at me.

I bend down to kiss my mother, too, and as she brushes my cheek with her lips she stops.

‘What on earth do you look like?’

‘It’s a dress,’ I say, standing up straight and brushing it down. ‘I thought you’d be pleased that I made an effort to wear something that shows off my figure.’

‘It might have been nice if perhaps not quite so much of you was on display.’

I’m about to open my mouth to reply that this is the fashion, and lace is in, when Will gets up and stands behind me. Maybe now, after years of nodding along whenever my mother snipes at me, he’s decided to stand up for me and defend my wardrobe choice.

‘Lex, your skirt’s tucked into your tights at the back,’ he whispers.

I close my eyes and wish that I could disappear. When I open them a second later and see my mother still staring at me with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow, I realise that it hasn’t worked, so instead I try as best I can to pull the dress out from my tights as discreetly as possible. God love my boyfriend for trying to protect what little modesty I had left.

Needless to say my dress must have been in my tights since I came out of the cubicle. Thinking about it, I bet that was what Mike was going to tell me. He’s a good egg and I’m sure he wouldn’t have let me walk out like that. And while I’m not too embarrassed that he noticed – I’m guessing he saw worse at last year’s Christmas party when I drunkenly fell over and flashed our entire department – I am mortified that the fit guy from the top saw. Not to mention everyone on the high street as I walked here. I wonder if the finance lady saw my mistake as well and didn’t say anything – that’s almost against the code of sisterhood. She’s off my Christmas card list – well, she would be if I could ever remember her name. Thinking about it, maybe that’s why she doesn’t like me.

I clear my throat and move away from Will to sit down at the table. I place my napkin over my knees and try to act like I’ve got some dignity.

My parents go back to looking at their menus. ‘You look lovely in the dress,’ says Will, using his menu as a shield.

‘Thanks. It’s always a bit awkward doing the quick change in the loo.’

‘Ah, well. At least it was empty in here.’

‘Too bad the high street wasn’t when I was on my way. Do you know, I even had a wolf whistle! I haven’t been whistled at for years – I was well chuffed.’

‘I’d whistle at you,’ he says, winking.

I smile and I’m about to say something cheeky back when my mum coughs. I’d almost forgotten my parents were here.

Will and I lower our menus like naughty schoolchildren that have just been caught passing notes at the back of class.

‘So, I bumped into Vanessa’s mum yesterday in Sainsbury’s. She’s all excited about the big day.’

I feel my muscles starting to tense in preparation. It’s as if I’m putting up a force field around myself.

‘I’m sure she is,’ I say, as if it’s no big deal.

One of my childhood best friends, Vanessa, is getting married a week on Saturday. While I’m very excited that she’s tying the knot, my mother seems to have taken it as a personal insult that she’s dared to get married before me.