The Choice (a Painful Past)

107

She wasn't wrong though. I had been just sitting in this house, every weekend, unless I went to sit at her place. I was honestly sick of doing that, and I wanted to go out, but the thought terrified me.

"Uuggghh." I groaned.

"Okay, FINE. Come help me get ready, because I have no idea what to wear. Also, I hate you a little bit." I sent back.

"Bitch, you love me. I'll be over around 7 because the good music doesn't even start until around 9. That good? Never mind, forget I asked. I'll be there around 7. Love you, bitch! Can't wait!" She texted back.

I went through my normal routine, made sure that Mom and my brother, Jimmy, knew that I was leaving, and that Ben was home. He was old enough to stay by himself for a while, but I still wanted to make sure that someone was there, in case anything happened. I knew that I was being overprotective, but that's just who I was.

As promised, Denise showed up around 7:15 and promptly dragged me to my room with her. She threw my closet door open wide and started pulling out clothes.

"No. No. No." She said, tossing items aside, on my bed. "Don't you have anything that is even the slightest bit sexy? You can't wear joggers and a hoodie to the fucking club." She sighed.

I cracked a grin, unable to help myself. I liked to be comfortable. Sue me.

Besides, I didn't like to draw attention to myself.

I knew that I wasn't all that pretty or sexy, so why try? I would just make a fool out of myself, and I had done that enough for the past however many years that I stayed with Will.

"Your closet is pathetic, Callie. We need to go shopping. Seriously." She said, with her voice muffled, inside the closet.

"Okay, enough dragging my damn clothes." I replied. "If I don't have anything to wear, then I can't go."

She poked her head around the door and glared at me. "Do NOT start that shit. I will find you something to wear, if it kills me. You ARE GOING. Understood?" She said, sternly.

I raised my eyebrows at her and nodded.

"Yes ma'am." I replied.

"Find your best pair of jeans, while I find a top. The dark ones that make your booty pop. You know which ones I'm talking about." She said, then ducked back inside my closet.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, with a smile. She was really getting into this.

I went to my dresser, found the jeans, and lay them on my bed. I didn't usually wear skinny jeans, because they made me insecure, but these actually looked decent on me. I had to wear my boots with them, though.

Otherwise, I felt like my feet looked too big.

"Stop wasting time and get them on!" Denise yelled, with her head still inside my closet.

How the fuck did she know that I wasn't changing?

"Fucking psychic." I murmured, but I started changing.

After I stripped off the jeans that I was wearing, I wiggled the new pair up over my hips and buttoned them, then slid on my mid calf, black buckle boots.

"Damn, look at that ass!" I jerked my head up and saw Denise watching me, with a devilish grin on her face.

"Shut up." I laughed.

"What?" She asked, innocently. "I'm just saying. My bestie got a booty." I rolled my eyes and held out my hand for the shirt that she was holding. "Oh, yeah. This will go great with the jeans and the boots. It's literally the only thing that I could find that isn't baggy as fuck." She said, passing it to me.

I knew which shirt it was. I had only worn it twice in the past 3 years. I had originally bought it to go to a New Year's Eve party, that one of Benjie's friends was having.

We were supposed to dress nice, instead of the usual casual comfort thing that we usually went for.

"Are you sure?" I asked, hesitantly. "It shows way more skin than I usually do."

"Oh, please. It literally shows your shoulders, your back, and a little cleavage. It's not like you'll be going naked." She replied, rolling her eyes at my modesty.

"I feel naked when I wear it." I muttered.

"Just put it on." She instructed.

I sighed and unzipped it, then stripped off the one that I was wearing. I slid my arms into the silky material and zipped it up. Then got Denise to help me secure it behind my neck, where the latch was.

She pulled at the material in a few places, then stepped back to look at me.

"Fucking gorgeous. Look at yourself." She replied, with a smile.

I turned towards the mirror and took in my image. I didn't see what she saw.

The top that was supposed to be so sexy, just made me feel fat and disgusting. I hated it. I wanted my baggy t-shirt back.

It was black, made of a silky, ruched, body hugging material. The strap went over my head, like a halter, and the sleeves were long, but left my shoulders bare. The zipper went up to my cleavage and stopped there, leaving it open for the world to see the top of my boobs.

"Denise, this is too revealing." I whined, pulling the top to try and cover the cleavage that was spilling out.

"No, it's not." She replied, then slapped my hands away from my breasts. "You look amazing. Don't you dare say otherwise. Trust me. I wish you could see what I see, what everyone else sees. You're fucking beautiful. Let me do your makeup and hair, then we'll add some accessories. Okay? You think you can deal with this look for one night? Just for a few hours?"

I chewed my bottom lip, still looking at myself in the mirror. I hated it, but she was right. I didn't want to show up at the club, wearing fucking joggers.

It was my first night out in...well, forever.

I had to make it count, right? It was time for new experiences.

I sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess...but I'm taking my sneakers, cuz I know my feet will be hurting in these damn things." I replied.

Denise laughed and nodded.

"Deal." She replied. "Okay, let's finish up." For the next hour, I sat in front of my mirror and allowed her to do whatever she wanted to do to my face and hair. "Okay, all done." She replied, stepping back to admire her work.

I had to admit that I had never felt more beautiful.