Love, Chloe(25)
“I did kiss one girl before that night. Wanna know why? Because I didn’t want to be clueless as to what the f*ck I was doing when I finally got the courage to kiss you. I never considered it a real kiss. I wanted my first real one to be with you. I wanted everything with you. But I was afraid you were too young, so I was waiting. I didn’t want to rush things and ruin it. But you’re right. A part of me also didn’t have the balls to tell you how I felt.”
“I wish you had. You were being careful, and I was just clueless. Together, we were…careless.”
“Careful plus clueless equals careless? Did you just make that up right now?”
“Yes.”
“That’s pretty f*cking cheesy.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You’d better get ready for your date with Trapper Con M.D.”
I laughed, relieved that he was smiling about things now. “Will you help me?”
“Help you? What the f*ck do you need help with?”
“Help me pick out what to wear. Because I think you’re right. This is a little skimpy.”
“A little skimpy? Hustler would be calling you tomorrow if I sent them a picture.”
“Alright. A lot skimpy.”
“You can’t figure this shit out on your own? It’s pretty simple. You cover your tits and ass. Done.”
“Yeah. But I still want to look good. You know I have a tendency to pick weird stuff. Potato sack couture and all. I feel like I go from one extreme to the other, and I don’t know how to dress in between.”
“Fine.” Justin let out an exhausted breath and followed me to my room.
I started to take dresses out of my closet, throwing them on the bed one by one. “How about this?”
“Slutty.”
“This one?”
“Sluttier.”
“Okay. This?”
“You got Birkenstocks to go with it?”
“Alright…this one?”
“Well, that would be one way to get rid of him.”
I covered my face. “Aargggh! This is so frustrating.”
“I know a solution.”
“What?”
“Don’t go on the date.”
“Because I can’t figure out what to wear?”
“Yeah. I think you should stay home.”
“You just don’t like him.”
“You’re damn right.”
“Again…why?”
“He just wants in your pants, Amelia.”
“Well, he’s not getting in my pants.”
“You sure about that?”
“I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”
He lifted his brow skeptically. “You’ve never slept with a guy on the first date?”
“Well…”
“Exactly.”
“Even if I wanted to sleep with him—which I don’t—it wouldn’t be tonight.”
“Why is that?”
“I stabbed myself again.”
He shook his head and chuckled when he figured out I was referring to my period. “I see.”
“Why do you think that he’s only interested in me for my body anyway?”
“It was his eyes. I don’t trust them. You can tell a lot about someone by the look in their eyes. His gave me a bad vibe.”
“Well, I have more going for me than my tits and ass. So, hopefully you’re wrong.”
“You’re right. You have nice deep-set dimples when you smile, too.”
My body felt flush from the compliment that had come out of the blue. I didn’t know how to respond, so I simply said, “Shut up.”
“Just be careful,” he said seriously, reaching into his back pocket. “Speaking of which…take this with you.” It was his old red Swiss Army knife from when we were younger.
“You still have this?”
“I’ll never stop needing this.”
“You really want me to take this with me?”
“Yes.”
Taking it from him, I said, “Okay.”
“Are we done here?”
“We still haven’t picked out what I’m wearing.”
Justin walked over to my closet and ran his hand slowly along the lineup of outfits, eventually stopping at a simple black sleeveless dress that was far from revealing. It looked more like something you could wear to a funeral. Actually, it was the dress I had bought to wear to Nana’s funeral before I realized she had explicitly written that she didn’t want one. She wanted to just be cremated with her ashes thrown in the ocean without any fanfare.
“This one? Really?”
He held the dress in his hand. “Don’t ask for my help if you’re not gonna listen.”
“Okay. This one it is.” I took it from him and watched as he made his way out the door. My eyes focused on the rectangular tattoo on his back. Even though I always thought it was sexy as hell, I was never able to get a good enough look at it for some reason until now.
“Justin.”
He turned around. “Yeah.”
“What is that tattoo on your back?”
His body stiffened. “It’s a bar code.”