Guilty Pleasure

2. High Expectations

            “It’s happening tonight. I can feel it!”

            “Annie, it’s going to happen, it’s ridiculously obvious. Why do you think he wanted you to go tonight? Besides, you two were all over each other yesterday.”

            She scoffed indignantly and slapped my arm lightly. “We were not. We were just talking. He’s actually a really nice guy.”

            “Oh, please. He was practically drooling over you. And you were, too.”

            Her eyes widened marginally. “Oh, God. I wasn’t too obvious, was I?” She groaned, not waiting for me to respond. “Of course I was too obvious. Gosh, he probably thought I was pathetic and clingy and needy.”

            “Annie.” I rolled my eyes. “Enlighten me. When has a guy ever said you were clingy or needy?”

            “Well, they’re obviously not going to say it to my face.”

          “Let me rephrase the question. Think of every guy you’ve ever wanted to hook up with. Has there been one time when it hasn’t happened?”

            “I think if I’d hooked up with Dave Franco, I’d remember,” she grumbled.

            I rolled my eyes at her. “Real guys, Annie. Not celebrities.”

            “Well…” she hesitated. “I’m sure it’s happened some time.”

            “I rest my case.” I grinned triumphantly. “I don’t get why you’re so jittery tonight. Now, are you going to take a shower or what? If you don’t hurry, we’ll never get to the party.”

            Not that I’d mind, but if Annie missed this party, I’d never hear the end of it.

            I was getting ready at Annie’s, but, as usual, she was taking forever. I already had my dress on – a simple blue dress that hugged my body and stopped mid-thigh – while Annie was still in gray sweatpants and a “More Issues Than Vogue” T-shirt. She hurried into the bathroom and I made myself comfortable, knowing it was still going to be a while before we could leave.

          Thankfully, I had brought my computer, and I was on the final pages of “The Rescue,” by Nicholas Sparks. I opened the document excitedly, flipping to the page where I’d left off, and began to read.

           Twenty minutes later, Annie opened the bathroom door to find me curled up on her bed, bawling.

            “Oh, my gosh, Elle, are you okay?” Her eyes widened with worry for a second before she saw me holding my computer closely. She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re crying because of a book.”

            “Annie, it was so beautiful!” I blubbered. “He – he said–”

            I was interrupted by Annie’s laughs. “I can’t believe this,” she guffawed. “This is priceless! Oh, wow, you should just see your face right now, it’s hilarious. Actually, I need to document this.”

            She reached for her phone on her dresser, and I set my laptop down and covered my face with my hands. “Don’t!”

            She was still laughing. “Come on, Elle, look at me. I promise I don’t have my phone anymore.”

            “Yeah right.” I wiped some lingering tears from my cheeks and buried my face in her pillow. “Go get ready instead, you take forever.”