Every Girl Does It(27)

I put on the dress and look in the mirror. It’s shocking how much I can resemble Angelina. She’s a lot taller, she also has tattoos, which Preston is convinced he can draw on me with a sharpie, we’ll see about that. But I could easily pass for her shorter twin. Oddly, this is something I’ve never noticed before today.

All in all, I feel like I look all right. I do my makeup as best I can and put on the strappy high heels Preston bought with the dress. As I open my bedroom door, I gasp. I’m face to face with Brad Pitt, and I don’t mean he kind of resembles Brad Pitt. No, he’s full on channeling celebrity right now. He’s done his hair in a sloppy fashion, let his five o clock shadow grow a little on his face, and don’t even get me started on the tan. He’s wearing a khaki suit resembling something I saw on Ocean's Eleven and is now holding his hand out for me.

Why am I shaking? There’s no way I’m going to be able to do this, let alone look at him all evening without letting my jaw drop. He has me do a little twirl before he smiles and kisses me on the cheek. My tongue goes numb, therefore speech isn’t an option right now.

He breaks the silence “You look absolutely stunning.” And I think he means it because there’s no smugness behind his eyes, but there’s something else I can’t identify.

“Stop overanalyzing me and sit down,” Preston says, breaking the moment.

I roll my eyes and sit. “What are you doing?” I ask as he pulls out a sharpie. There's a brief glimmer of hope that perhaps he had forgotten about the tattoos I needed to carry off the disguise.

“She,” he says as the sharpie touches my skin, “only has two visible tattoos when she wears dresses like this.”

I roll my eyes. “How would you know?”

“TMZ,” he answers before finishing off the first tattoo.

“I think I underestimated you.” I shake my head.

“You always have,” he says wistfully before starting on the next tattoo. Although I hate to admit it, this does feel kind of fun. He puts the sharpie down and looks at my slit. He lets out a big sigh before letting his hand run on the inside part of my knee. It makes me want to jump on him, and I don’t know why. Sometimes he has that effect on me; either I want to kill him, or I want to steal his virtue. That can’t be a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” Assuming he must think I look terrible or he wouldn’t have such an upset look on his face.

Preston leaves the room then returns within seconds with my heart.

Kidding, it’s actually a needle and thread, but close enough.

“We can’t have you walking around like that,” he points to the slit and begins sewing the top part of it down to make it less revealing.

“What do you mean?” My words sound a little choppy since his touch makes me so nervous.

“I mean.” His voice is now more intense. “I don’t want other men lusting after you tonight, or undressing you with their eyes, so I’m going to remedy the situation.” He finishes the last stitch and ties a knot.

“Where in the world did you learn to sew?” I ask flabbergasted.

“Prison.” He winks. There’s the guy I’ve grown to love.

Wait a second, did I just say love? Ha! Not a possibility. At least I didn’t say it out loud.

He pulls me to my feet to inspect me. “Perfect,” he says and I feel that way. “Grab your sunglasses, Mrs. Pitt.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Pitt.” I laugh as he leads me out into the night.

****

We walk arm in arm toward the restaurant. Keeping my breathing even, that’s my focus, but I fail. First off, I’m convinced that if we’re caught we’re going straight to prison no passing go no collecting two hundred dollars. Second, I’m walking too close to Brad Pitt’s actual twin. Any girl would feel nervous right now, except for he is kind of cocky and rude sometimes. Remember, I tell myself, it’s still Preston.

People stop eating as we enter the restaurant. I lock eyes with Kristin before looking down. Oh no. I know she notices me, she can tell. My face feels on fire as I look up again. But this time Kristin’s face is hiding excitement and pure celebrity awe. If my best friend can’t tell it's me, we’re safe.

Preston asks the waiter if we can please sit outside. We’re led by a few tables of people who either pull out their camera phones or choke on their food. I hold in a chuckle as we sit at the table outside. The waiter is visibly shaking as he pours us each a glass of the “best red wine in Maui”, as he so humbly put it and hands us our menus.

“This is weird,” I say through my smile to Preston.

“Right?” He replies taking a sip of his wine. “Wow, he wasn’t kidding about this being the best red wine in Maui.”

“We should do this the rest of the week.” His eyes darken. He puts down his wine and the gauntlet, watching me the entire time as I nearly choke with laughter.

“We’ll get caught!” I say.

“You mean to tell me this hasn’t been the most exciting night of your life?”

Rolling my eyes I reply, “Okay, fine it’s been fun, but I’m too small for prison. They’ll eat me alive in there.”

“I would,” Preston answers as he motions for the waiter.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I seethe.