Miriam

  I walk over to Stephanie, searching for some explanation. “Steph, be honest. It’s not my birthday or any holiday, did you know I was having a bad day? Because these shoes are too expensive and,” she interrupts, “Mimi, hun, I didn’t get you a gift? At least not shoes. Say, your birthday is coming up soon, what should I get you?”

  My eyes widened, “If you didn’t get me the gift then who did?” I look down at the fresh, brand new, white shoes as if they were an alien.

  She collapses onto her bed. Her hair fanned out on her sheets and her light blue eyes fluttered close.

  “I don’t know, but hanging out with Artie is a gift itself, right?” She bats her eyelashes, teasing me in a way.

  “Focus, this isn’t about Artie right now. I’m genuinely concerned. Why would somebody get me a gift? Unless…this is Artie's way of making it up to me?”

  “Wait for what?” She blinks her eyes at me. “Artie and I didn’t even hang out. He had plans.” I rub the back of my neck.

  “Well that makes sense. He better get you a gift after making you walk all that way!”

  I then got a text from Artie and my heart almost drops:

  “Hey, M. Finally figured out how to make it up to you. Wear something nice. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

  “Girl, didn’t you two just start talking to each other? And now, you’re going to dinner or something? Actually, he never told you where, you better keep your location on.”

  Yes, he never told me where, but it seems like he booked something specifically for the two of us. I’ve been waiting for this moment since longer than I can remember and he really seems like the family kind of guy, always a gentleman.

  “I’m not assuming he’s a bad guy, I’m just saying be careful because this whole scheme sounds sketchy…” She attempts to reassure me.

  When Stephanie has a hunch, it’s usually I snuggle under my sheets,and I turn the lights off to try and get some rest.

  The next morning, Stephanie and I went to that same coffee shop where I’d see Artie every day. We sat near the big, bright windows at a small table, near plants, with our baked goods and beverages in front of us.

  I hear my name get called, and I walk over to the register. I take my credit card out to pay, but the barista stops me.

  “No need, somebody already paid for your drink.” I stop immediately and I glance over my shoulder to see the person who was behind this gesture. .

  He gives me a smug, knowing grin and steps out of the cafe, the bell ringing behind him. My heart thumps. I thank the barista and rush back to Stephanie with my drink.

  “Hey, what’s up? You look like a ghost. Is your Caramel Brulee Latte not up to your standards?” she teases, but is quick to notice my cheeks, “Oh my god, wait, did something happen…?”

  “Yes.. no? Artie paid for my drink, which is- yknow nice and all but.. Kinda weird I guess? Argh, I don't know!” I say as I sit down, cradling the drink in my hands, and start speaking after I see that Artie is fully out of sight,“ I know I should be grateful but…Something just feels about this.” I finish, and Stephanie grabs my arm.

  “Mimi, are you sure you want to go on that date? He’s… kind of suspicious. I mean, canceling at the last minute? For a ? Usually, there is more notice than that. Now that I'm thinking about it, I could've sworn that I saw him in some photos last night from the party that were on insta. I took some screenshots to show you.” I raise my eyebrows in suspicion,

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Why didn't you tell me earlier? I'm not mad or anything.” She grabs her phone, finding the photos she was talking about,

  “I swear I would've, but I kind of forgot until you mentioned him. I didn't get a good look at what he was doing, but he was definitely there. Keep scrolling to the right for more. Here,” she gives me her phone. In the first photo, I zoom in, looking around before spotting him. With another woman, making out with her. Touching her in interesting places. I keep scrolling, and find one where he's leading the same girl up the stairs in the background. She's blond, probably 5 '0 ft tall, and from other photos, ocean blue eyes. I think her name is Arianna James or something like that. The total opposite of me. What the hell?

  “Gosh, Steph.. He's with another girl! They probably hooked up!” tears well up in frustration, “I-I thought he liked me.” Please don't cry. Not in public, around strangers who couldn't care less. “ and I suppose I'm not his type. At all!” I wail, and become somewhat embarrassed when I notice that other people in the cafe are giving me and Stephanie dirty looks.

  “Let's go home. I'll take out my stash of chocolate,watch some movies, and go do some retail shopping and figure this out. Okay?” I nod, sniffling. She packs up our unfinished muffins and pain au chocolate, and we leave our table. I threw away my coffee, since I was still feeling off about the whole thing and had felt too sick to drink any.

  “Okay. Shall we watch White Chicks or Mean Girls?”

  I convince Stephanie I'm fine, after watching both Mean Girls and white chicks , stuffing our faces with chocolate and a bit of retail therapy. We discussed the events of this morning and what would be the plan for tonight while walking from target, bags in hand.

  “Okay…do you want to confront him? Blow him off? Ignore him? Egg his car?” I think for a moment, and I take a breath.

  “No. I’ll confront him at dinner.” Her eyes speculate, “I feel like there's more to this plan than you’re letting on?” she says, with a somewhat suspicious tone, “I'm not gonna dictate your actions or anything, but is going even a good idea? I have a bad feeling about this, and I know you do too, even if you insist it's not. Remember this morning?”

  I hate how she knows me so well.

  “I’ll let you know if anything happens, ‘kay? I would rather talk to him in person, and not text or on a call, so I can actually gauge his reaction. It's easier that way. Plus, if he apologizes, I'll be able to know if he's actually telling the truth. I really, really like him, Steph. I don't want a little mix-up to ruin a future relationship, if it's all just a misunderstanding,” I say quickly, avoiding her gaze, “if it's not, I'll leave and call an uber or something and return the shoes after. It's no biggie. Could you help me get ready?” I ask, and she's still looking at me suspiciously, but seems to get over it.

  “Of course! You're my best friend, after all, and what do best friends do? Help their amazing and freakishly hot friends get ready to go on a hopefully amazing date. Also- let me know if you need a ride but for now…Let's get to it!”

  I snort.

  Freakishly hot is not how I would describe myself, but I don't fight her on that, especially since she's already dragging me to our dorm.

  After 4 hours of getting ready, I'm finally done. And wow— Stephanie is a real miracle worker, that's for sure. My hair is straightened for once and is slightly curled at the ends, my long slip dress a gorgeous shade of crimson, accompanied with a pair of dark red stilettos and a ruby necklace plus earring combo. I felt so pretty I couldn't help but smile. But fuck, these heels are hurting my feet already and I look like a giant, my already 5’8 self growing practically another 3 inches. At least I look hot.

  “Oh my gosh, Steph. I look amazing. Thank you,” I say earnestly, wrapping my arms around my waist, “you sure this isn't too much? I mean, he said to wear something nice but-” she cuts me off, “you look Mirim, and who cares if you’re dressed up too fancy? Hell, everyone will be dressed down when you show up. Do you want me to wait until you get back? Just to make sure you get home safe?” she said, and I know what she's thinking.

  I know there isn't much to worry about, but if I were her and my friend was getting random gifts and getting asked on a date by a man she barely knew? I'd be having the same concerns, too.

  “You have my location and I have my phone on so if anything goes down I know who to call, mkay?” I attempt to reassure and her face softens.

  “I don’t play when it comes to my bestie.” She envelops me in a tight hug and squeezes to the point where it could replace the electric chair as a torture device, “I promise I’ll be safe, or atleast get out of there alive.” I nudge her playfully and I sling my matching purse over my shoulder and walk out the door.