ᴀᴅ ᴍᴇʟɪᴏʀᴀ ~ ᴅᴘꜱ (ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴇᴇᴋꜱ)

13 - joyride

"It looks just as good as it did in the store, Ivy."

I finally yank myself away from my own reflection, plopping down onto my bed to put on my shoes.

"Good isn't enough, Amy. I need to look great."

She groans. "God, I swear- it's the same thing. Good and great mean the same thing. Stop manufacturing things to be upset about."

Amy's also on her bed, except she's laying, leisurely skimming through the catalog we picked up at Woolworth's.

"Manufacturing. That's a big word for you, Amy," I rebut, hopping off my bed and snatching the magazine from her. I roll it up and playfully whack her over the head with it.

She rubs the point of collision on her skull. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Because you have to."

I unroll the magazine and flip through the pages, landing on the middle fold. I pull out the attached advertisement with the perfume sample. There's a woman on the cover wearing a white flowing dress. She's holding an umbrella above her head, despite the lack of rain around her. Her face is upturned towards the sky and her eyes are lit with amazement.

I wonder above could be so magnificent to grab her attention like that.

Regardless, I tear the sample out of the catalog, patting the perfumed side on my wrists and collarbone.

"One of the articles in there said that's where perfume sticks longest," Amy had told me yesterday.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?"

Amy rolls her eyes. This is the fifth time I've asked her within the past hour.

"No, I'm not going, Ivy. I wasn't invited. Plus, why would I willingly put myself that close to Chet Danbury?"

I wince. "Is he really that bad?"

"If you're not his type, then yes. That was before he started dating Christine, though. Maybe he's better now."

She doesn't sound certain.

"Maybe." I don't sound so certain either.

I back up from the mirror, trying to steal another look at my completed outfit when someone knocks on the door. I move to answer it, but Amy leaps off of her bed and cuts me off.

"Shit-" she mutters, "they're not supposed to be here yet..."

I give her a puzzled look, barely registering her movement as she opens the door. The hinges creak as dissonantly as they did my first night, reminding me to bug Duvall about them later. My train of thought is derailed by the identity of our visitor before I can complain, though.

"Hey, are you..."

Steven Meeks stands in the doorway, allowing his sentence to waiver as he sees me. I'm speechless too, but for a different reason, I think.

I gather my thoughts before the boy does. "Get out of the hall! Come in, come in. What were you thinking? God, what if a teacher saw you out there, genius?" I grab his arm and pull the boy into the room, Amy shutting the door behind him.

I wait for his response but it never comes. He continues to stare at me.

"What he's trying to say..." Amy swoops in, "...is that I worked it all out."

"Worked it out?"

"I have my ways. Don't question it." She winks.

I look back and forth between the boy and my roommate. "I thought we were going to meet at the party."