What The End Looks Like | ✓

03: lacey

 The last few days have brought nothing but stress as I tried to figure out what I was going to wear tonight. I've done my best to try and plan, but I don't have too many girlfriends in New York. I don't have any here unless you want to count Quinn. I'm not sure I'd ever ask her for clothing advice since her closet seems to be made up of the color black only.

Anything pant related is out of the question since I'm having a hard time getting anything other than sweatpants over my ankle without jerking it the wrong way.

It's freezing outside too, but I'm assuming that a white turtleneck shirt with a denim skirt would be fine? Dean didn't really say what the proper attire was. Just that it was a small thing. I can dress it up with earrings and a belt or if I decide that's too much, earrings are always removable. I have absolutely no idea what shoes I'm going to wear. I feel like Bambi on my crutches still so I guess it's a good thing I only have them for a few more days.

And my hair? What do I even do with this mess? It's not quite straight, but it's not wavy either. And then underneath the top layers it gets all curly and kinked especially when I sleep on it wet.

Ruth was always the person that helped me get ready for dates. Without her here, I feel lost in more ways than I can count.

I am absolutely hopeless.

I've thought a hundred times about texting him and saying that I couldn't make it. I have reasonable reasons to cancel; I know absolutely nothing about him except that they call him Barbie at work? Probably not a good sign for me.

But realistically, I don't want a relationship because I know how it's going to end. Nothing is guaranteed. So if I look at it that way then there shouldn't be anything holding me back. Tonight isn't even a date and I'm completely overthinking everything. Something I have a terrible habit of doing.

After tugging my skirt up with some difficulty, I limp over to the full length mirror I brought from home. The shirt hides my scar which is a relief and the skirt makes my legs look long since I can't rely on heels for that. I've narrowed it down to two pairs of nice sandals that aren't exactly my first pick to wear in the winter, but all of my booties are out of commission for the time being. I end up going with the less strappy pair because they're the only ones that fit over the wrap my ankle is in.

The outfit looks pretty good if I do say so myself. I'm hoping that Dean will recognize the effort his friend is trying to put in to look decent.

I check the time and decide that I have to move a little bit faster if I want to be ready by the time he gets here. I attempt to straighten my brown mane of hair, but ultimately decide that a loose braid with face framers is the way to go.

My phone starts to ring just as I move to apply mascara. The brush goes straight into my eye causing searing pain to go through, "Shit." I swear, grabbing my phone to see who is calling.

Of course it's Ruth, but I thought she was going out tonight? Regardless of what I thought her plans for the night were, I answer her FaceTime. Her smile pops up on the screen before turning into one of concern, "Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

I know for a fact there are tears running down my face that I have to wipe to sound believable, "Perfectly fine, just suffering from a little eye trauma."

"Wait what?"

I blink a few times trying to regain my sight, "I was about to put mascara on when you called. The brush went straight into my eye."

Her laughter only furthers my belief that I'm hopeless. "Oh Lace. I miss you."

I squint to smile at her, "I miss you too. I thought you were going out tonight?"