A Life Less Average

twenty-two

poppy

I left work again the next Saturday as the Ben's and Jasmine headed off into town for another evening of mayhem. Tall Ben had slowly become my partner in crime. Jasmine and Small Ben were getting sick of our jokes, even if it had only been two weeks. 

We watched the same TV shows, listened to the same music, and even had the same taste in YouTube videos. Even Faye had never warmed to the YouTubers I watched religiously. She had always said it was a stupid platform for people who couldn't get real jobs. I told her I didn't care, as long as it made me laugh. 

It hadn't taken long for our vocabulary to merge. I found myself using his catch phrases, and he had started using my mannerisms. He was like the brother I never had, only we weren't painstakingly connected by blood. 

Tonight they were heading downtown to a club that Small Ben was obsessed with. They played his favourite music, and the other two only put up with it because of the cheap drinks and the attractive crowd. I had wanted to tag along on the off-chance that Oliver was out tonight, not working. But I had turned the offer down.

Instead, Lewis had planned the evening for the two of us, and I was excited for what he had in mind. Even if it did mean missing out on another chance to get to know the people I was working with. And as I said goodbye to the Ben's and Jasmine, Oliver had sent me a thumbs up. He was out tonight. Damn.

The bus ride home had been torture. We seemed to hit every traffic light, and at some points I felt as though the driver was deliberately driving slower than normal because he somehow knew I was eager to get home, and distract myself.

The minute I stepped through the door, I showered and prepped myself for the night ahead. I shaved my legs, washed and blow-dried my hair, and even moisturised my entire body. I didn't know what he had in mind, but I wanted to be prepared for everything. 

He had given me instructions to wear something nice, which meant we were going to a restaurant. A nice restaurant. 

I flicked through my wardrobe, becoming more and more desperate as I got close to the end of the rail without finding something date-night-appropriate. 

My clothes were all ironic or gothic or casual. Need an oversized t-shirt? I have plenty. Hoodies? Loads. Band t-shirts or shirts with comic book graphics? An abundance. But nice clothes?

I snuck out of my bedroom and across the landing, creeping on my tiptoes to not draw attention to my movement into Rachel's room. 

She had left some of her clothes here. Clothes that she didn't want to take into her adult life, and clothes that Mum hadn't gotten round to donating. There would be something appropriate in her wardrobe, for sure. She had spent her teenage years wearing pastels and pinks, and t-shirts that deliberately had frilly hems. I shuddered at the thought, but I knew that was what Lewis wanted. 

I switched the light on and opened the wardrobe doors. It was as though she still lived here. She had more clothes that I did, and she didn't wear any of this stuff.

I was struck immediately by the array of colours. I might deliberately dye my hair stupid colours, but the thought of wearing them everyday was different. 

Rachel had organised her clothes by item, and then by colour. I flicked through the camisoles, the t-shirts, the blouses, the shirts, the blazers, until I got to the dresses. 

There was short, long, long sleeved, no sleeves. I picked one at random, closing my eyes and reaching out, telling myself whatever I picked, I would wear.