mindlessly for the remainder of the afternoon, as the show droned on in the background.
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I finally managed to zone out for a while, and by the time I looked up, it was nearly evening. It startled me, but I was also relieved. Apparently I wasn’t a complete, hopeless mess. Yet.
I went back to the kitchen, and prepared myself a generous salad, with lots of veggies and a simple vinaigrette, then returned to the couch to eat. Once I had finished my meal, I turned off the television. I washed all the dishes that had been used that day, then went to my bedroom to get ready.
I took a quick shower, but once I was out I took my time, making sure my hair was neat, a little front section on each side pulled back and clipped together on the back of my head. I then put on eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, and even a bit of blush. For me, I was heavily made up.
Deciding what to wear was easy enough, at least. It was a bonfire, out on a farm. So, cutoff jeans and one of my favorite baby doll tees. It was just short enough that when I moved right, a little skin would show at my midriff, without looking outright skanky most of the time. Some cute sparkly earrings and a comfy pair of flats, and I was ready.
It occurred to me that it was somewhat odd that I was putting so much time into my appearance when I wasn’t especially interested in attracting guys; still, I enjoyed making myself look nice. I was attractive, and I knew it, and it was fun to show it off, even if it wasn’t for a particular purpose.
I checked the clock on my phone; it was about time to go, it should just be getting fully dark as we arrived. I grabbed a little purse and stuck my essentials in it — wallet, phone, keys, tissues, and a little tin of mints — and headed out to my car.
I had arranged with Angie to give her a ride, so I went first to the campus to pick her up. I pulled up in front of her dorm, and shot her a text. When she came bounding out of the doors, I rolled my eyes, thankfully before she could see it.
She was dressed like a bizarre cross of a hippie, an 80’s hair band girl, and a hooker. Half of her bushy blond hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, the other half loose and fluffy. She had on an oversized midriff tee that hung off one shoulder, exposing the hot pink sports bra she had on underneath. Then came the tight, short denim shirt and oversized glittery belt, and finished off with hot pink high heels. Heels! To go to a farm!
As she opened the car door and flopped into her seat, she gave a little squeal; she looked like she was about to start vibrating from excitement.
She looked me over like I had her, except instead of rolling her eyes, she beamed at me. “You look fabulous , Adalyn! And here I was worrying you’d be a stick in the mud.”
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes yet again. “Who said I won’t be? I’ll just be a very good looking stick in the mud.”
She snorted softly. “Whatever. Come on! Let’s go!” she squeaked, bouncing slightly in her seat. I giggled; I couldn’t help myself. Her enthusiasm was catching.
“Yeah yeah yeah, miss impatient!”
I pulled out, still giggling, and we hit the road, heading out of town. Angie turned on the radio, and cranked it up until I was starting to cringe from the volume. We rocked the whole way, having a wonderful, laughter-filled time.
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I’d timed it beautifully; there was just a soft splash of glowing color on the horizon as I parked my little Prius among the other vehicles — mostly trucks and SUVs, with a couple of motorcycles and cars thrown in for variety. It looked like it was a larger gathering than I’d expected.
We got out of the car, and to my surprise, Angie was actually able to walk on her ridiculous-looking heels. That took some serious talent, not to immediately sink into the ground and get stuck, but somehow she managed it. We made our