My Mythic Bitch In Red

Chapter Thirty-Five

(y/n)'s POV

I looked at myself in the mirror, picking apart every part of my appearance.

This outfit wasn't good enough either. After 7 different combinations, I was stuck with hardly anything else left to try. I sighed and looked at my last option. If it wasn't good, I may have collapsed and died on the spot.

I stripped off my relatively cute gray tank top and short black skirt with a scalloped hem. Relatively cute wasn't going to cut it until the fourth date or so. I needed to look casually perfect for tonight. The first date I'd go on with Heather Chandler.

I picked up my last option, a long sleeved velvet black dress that hit at my mid-thigh and had a lace up back. I planned to pair it with white fishnet stockings and soft looking fake velvet black flats, with a pale gray hoodie over top. It was supposed to be breath taking, and it normally looked good on me. I'd never worn it out before, but sometimes I tried it on and imagined I was on a date or walking a red carpet somewhere.

I slipped it on, struggling to lace up the back by myself but apparently I was some kind of witch when I needed to get things done, because I even tied it in an elegant bow. I pulled on the fishnets and flats, finally turning to look myself in the mirror.

I looked... good. I actually looked pretty okay. This was the right option, which was lucky because she was picking me up in half an hour and I still hadn't done my makeup and hair. I gave a half smile to myself in the mirror before hurrying into my bathroom to put my hair up in a messy, delicate bun and applying light makeup.

I heard a light knock at the door and nearly stumbled backward in shock. I quickly grabbed a purple purse that had my keys, money, gum, and everything else a girl could need on a date, tugging my zip-up hoodie onto my arms. I grinned as a daintily walked down the stairs, knowing Heather was waiting. I seriously hoped I looked good, even with the hoodie only exposing the front and leaving the back covered.

I heard a gasp as I reached the last step, seeing Heather looking dazed and my mother smirking. Heather looked fantastic, hair less crispy with hairspray than normal, instead down in soft looking waves that I wanted to run my fingers through. She wore a red v-neck crop top that exposed a sliver of pale skin and light wash jeans paired with red converse.

"Wow..." she breathed, making me giggle. I walked over, kissing her on the cheek. We both knew my mom was safe to be open around, so I didn't even feel her stiffen a little bit. She instead grinned.

"You look wonderful too, Heather," I whispered to her, taking her hand. She quickly reciprocated eagerly, as if she wanted to memorize the feeling of my cold skin on hers.

"You two have fun, and have her back by ten." Mom told us, facing Heather. I nodded and she mumbled a "yes ma'am", and we went on our merry way.

"So, have you eaten dinner yet?" She asked as we reached the brisk outdoors and I pulled my jacket closer to my body.

"Yeah, my dad made me. He doesn't know anything about the date, I just told him I was hanging at Ronnie's and she eats stupid-early," I explained. She nodded.

"Good because I have too. What about we get some ice cream, then go have a stroll around the park?" She suggested and my face lit up. An amused smirk spread across her face like melted butter .

"Yeah, that sounds fantastic! But to be fair, anything with you sounds fantastic," I answered boldly. I saw a bit of pink flush her cheeks, and I knew I was successful at my flirting.

"You're too sweet, I swear," she rolled her eyes playfully and I hit her arm.

"You love me just the way I am!"

"Yeah, but still," she conceded. I felt my face heat up and a smile subconsciously pull the corners of my mouth upward at the thought of her loving me.

Heather Chandler loves me is a sentence I definitely repeated far too many times in my head. But, it never got old. It was absolutely amazing, beautiful, heartwarming, fantastic, brilliant. I would have used more words but nothing could really scratch the surface about how good it felt.

"Whatcha thinking about?" The silence was broken and my gaze snapped over to her.

"You," I answered simply, loving how she went red and sputtered at a singular word.

"I uhh- you really? Oh.. umm... all good things... I hope..." she gulped nervously and I reached over, resting a hand on her knee.

"The best, I can assure you. Why would I be here, and be your girlfriend, if they weren't good things?" I responded earnestly.

"Because you felt bad and were just stringing me along the whole time because you like the idea of a popular kid being hopelessly in love with you?" She said rather quickly. I gasped, mock offended.

"You really think that of me, why, butter my biscuits and call me a bucket of kale! I would never do such a thing!"

"Quick question?" Heather spoke after a second, holding back laughter.

"Yes?" I asked sweetly, batting my eyes innocently.

"What the fuck, (y/n)." She said flatly and I burst out into a fit of giggles, clutching my stomach that was quickly getting sore from laughter.

It felt so good just to be next to her, laughing and being an idiot with her. I seriously loved being this girl's girlfriend.

(970 words)