"This was stupid. What was I thinking? I'm not going," I tell Molly over FaceTime.
Initially, I called her because I'm clueless when it comes to what to wear to a house party. I mean, it doesn't help that my closet solely consists of blouses, slacks, and long-sleeve dresses. But this call has turned into me venting about how I'm not cut out for tonight's scene.
"This wasn't stupid. You were thinking clearly. And you are going," Molly counters.
"Show me what you're wearing again," I sigh.
Molly flips the camera around to the couch in her room, where she's splayed out her look for tonight. A sleeveless white romper and 5-inch wedges. Yup, definitely don't have any of that in my closet.
"I have nothing to wear," I whine and Molly must stand up from wherever she's sitting because the angle of the camera changes.
"Why don't I come over? I can bring you something, and we can get ready together."
"Okay," I exhale. "When can you be here?"
"I'll have my mom drop me now. She's downstairs watching Wheel of Fortune, so she'll be ecstatic that she has an errand to run."
Molly keeps to her word and is over in the matter of 10 minutes. We happen to live close to each other, so I wasn't worried that it was going to take her long.
"I'm here and I brought options," Molly announces as she waves two bags in the air that are bursting at the seams.
"Okay, hit me," I tell her and she lays each choice across my bed.
"No. No. And no," I immediately tell her, pointing from left-to-right.
"What? How do you know? You haven't even tried them on yet."
"Because I'm not wearing a bra as a shirt."
"It's not a bra, it's a crop top, silly."
"That thing will hit right below my boob," I tell her of the lingerie-like piece. "What else you got?"
"Uh," she says, looking into the fuller bag. "Oh, yes! I forgot I packed this." She pulls out a sequined halter top that actually looks promising. It's sleeveless and has an open back.
"Okay. This could work."
"I love this top. I wore it to my cousin's birthday party. Do you have a pair of black jean shorts?"
"You mean black jean pants? Yes."
"No, Anastasia. Shorts. It's 80 degrees outside."
I huff, giving in. "Give me a second."
I walk over to my drawer and pull out the only pair that I've got.
"Cuuuute," she exclaims when I hold them up. They're a basic pair, but frayed at the bottom.
"I suppose if I reach for the ballet flats in my closet, I'm never going to hear the end of it from you."
"Correct." She pushes past me to look into my closet and reaches for these open toe black heels.
"Too fancy," I state.
"No, they're perfect." She taps her finger to her chin and then says, "We're still missing something."
"Well, yeah, I haven't done my makeup yet."
"Jewelry!" she exclaims, snapping her fingers together. "Where do you keep it?"
"In the box on top of my drawer," I answer, and she doesn't wait a second to find it.
"Ooooh, these are pretty," she remarks and I make my way over to see which pieces she's referring to.
Of course, I should've known. My diamond earrings. Well, not mine, exactly. They're the prettiest pieces in my box. Not to mention, the only real pieces. My mom left them for me right before she took off. They're the only thing that ties me to her.
"I'm not wearing those," I tell her.
"Why not? They're stunning."
"They're too much. This is a house party."
"Stassie," she bats her eyes, "even with these earrings on, you'll be the most underdressed person at this party."
"Great, then it doesn't really matter if I wear them or not."
***
I'm wearing the diamond earrings.
I wasn't making it past Molly without them in my ears. I also wasn't making it past my dad, who asked 101 questions about this party right before we walked out the door: Whose is it? Why are you going? You have a curfew, remember? Along with 101 orders: No drinking. No smoking. No going home with strangers. He's not wrong at all, but he forgets that I know the rules and never break them.
"Is your dad always that strict?" Molly asks me after we slide into the Uber. It's funny; I never thought that he was. But I guess the word 'strict' holds a different meaning in this town.
"So, wanna tell me what I can expect tonight?"
"No, because where's the fun in that?"
"I hate surprises, Molly."
"You hate surprises because they're unexpected."
"Yup. Pretty sure that's the definition of the word 'surprise'."
"Fine. But only because I want you to have a good time tonight. Rafe's parties are...uh...unconventional."
"This doesn't sound good."
"No. Unconventional in a good way," she clarifies, and I furrow my brows at her. "What you experience tonight is something you probably haven't before and probably won't in the future. Unless, you're ever lucky enough to be invited to one of Jack's parties. Those things are exclusive though; invite only."
Our Uber comes to a stop and I almost wish it didn't because that means it's showtime.
I ended up texting Henry letting him know that I was going. He responded with, "See you there" and a smiley face. When I told Molly he was coming, she pretended to stifle a groan. She makes it seem like she doesn't like the guy, but I know that she does because she teases him in a way that you do when you actually want to get someone's attention.
We exit the Uber, and Molly halts me with her hand before I can walk any further. "Wait, your ribbon's coming undone," she tells me of the clip that's holding my pony together.
"Thanks," I tell her after she tightens it, and then we're off.