12 Weeks, 12 Dates

Chapter 17: Clubbin' in the Country with Concussions

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Chapter 17: Clubbin' in the Country with Concussions

“You’re what?” I asked.

“Sick. I’m sorry Pipe, but you’re goin’ to have to get someone,” Nay coughed and sounded like she was hacking up a walrus, “to help you with your date tonight. Sorry.”

I shook my head, even though she wouldn’t be able to see. “No, no, it’s fine. Maybe I can go over to Gwen’s. Just focus on getting better okay?”

“I’m already eating my soup,” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Have a fun date. Remember that this guy is bringin’ you somewhere really, super fancy so it’s no-no to wear jeans and a tee. He’ll be picking you up at the park around five thirty. Oh, and Danny will still pick you up afterwards. Just text him where you are and he’ll swing by.”

Even while she was sick, Naomi could still give fashion advice. “Okay I will, thanks. Hope you feel better. Bye,” I said and then hung up the phone.

I sighed and began dialing a new number. After two rings, the other line picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi Gwen, it’s me Piper.”

“Oh hey, Piper! What can I do for you?”

I clicked my fingernails on the kitchen counter. “Sorry if I’m intruding or anything, but I was wondering if you could help me get ready for my date later on today? I know its last minute and everything, so if you can’t that’s fine.”

This is my usual spiel whenever I wanted something. Make the person feel guilty if they wanted to object my politeness. I am oh-so sneaky.

“Sure you can come over! Just as long as you can tolerate Logan, even though that’s basically impossible. If you pretend he’s not there, then it won’t be a problem.” Gwen laughed from the other line. “You know how to get here, right?”

“Yes, I do. Thank you so much Gwen.”

“No problem. See you in a bit!” she said and then hung up.

Ugh, I can’t believe that I was actually planning ahead for my date…

***

“Hi Piper! Come on in,” Gwen stepped aside as she opened the door.

I stepped in and glanced around. “It seems like only yesterday I pelted your dad with oranges because I thought he was a zombie.”

I looked over and saw Mr. Phillips glance up from his TV show. I gave him a sheepish smile in response, “Hello Mr. Phillips.”

“Hi Piper,” he smiled back and went back to his program.

For someone who I had tackled out of thinking they were a part of the zombie invasion that my brain had come up from the overload of sugar, Mr. Phillips was a pretty easy-going guy.

“Let’s go downstairs, I already have some things set up,” Gwen said giddily as she took my elbow.

“You’ve been hanging around Naomi a little bit too much, haven’t you?” I raised an eyebrow.

The silence was enough to answer my question.

“Anyway,” she said as we hopped down the stairs, “where’s your date going to bring you?”