I’m not talking about my cotton granny panties but tiny pieces of lace, silk, and satin. Bras, garters, tiny nighties, and a pair of the highest heels I’ve ever seen in my life. I pick one up and dangle it in front of their faces.
"Okay, so I get the lingerie but what's with the hooker heels?"
Willow grabs it from me and looks it over, tracing her hand over every intricate detail of the patent leather, and then she smells it.
Yes, she smells it.
"Harlow, my dear, darling friend." She swings her arm around my shoulder. "These are not hooker heels. These are what we call fuck-me pumps and you are going to need them."
I look at her like she's got three heads.
"If you think for one second I’m wearing these," I pick up a pair of the new panties, "or any of these, then you are crazier than I thought you were."
Willow makes silly doe eyes and places her hand over her heart.
"Moi? Crazy? Sister, I just want you to get some and these little items will help with all that."
My eyes widen and yeah, she's crazy. I’ve never worn anything like this is my whole life. I mean I have my share of silky panties with cute little bows on them but some of these items are just damn obscene.
"I have no plans of '
getting some
' and I have no plans of wearing any of these. I have no idea what you are trying to accomplish by buying all these, but I’m not wearing any of it."
Willow's expression becomes angry, like Superman with heat vision, and she throws one of the shoes across the room.
"You know what, fuck this shit!" She grabs her purse and starts for the door. Thea calls out for her to wait. She looks to me and I shrug and start to stuff all the underwear into the bags on the table. Thea grabs my wrist gently.
"Harlow, stop and listen."
So I do, crossing my arms over my chest and letting a rush of air from my lungs.
"Willow is only trying to help. This is what she knows. It's her personality. She has her own way of dealing with things."
I raise my eyebrows at her. "Oh, now I’m a thing?"
Willow stalks back into the kitchen. She never left like I thought she did.
"You are not a thing, Harlow. You are the
best
thing and for so long I watched you be unhappy. I watched you go through so much pain and suffering, and then you were great. When you met Cruz, you were great and I had my best friend back, then I almost lost you." She pulls one of my chairs out from the table and takes a seat. Her hands fondle through the underwear on top the table.
Her eyes stay down as she speaks, quietly, and so unlike Willow.
"Do you have any idea what it was like for me to watch you almost die three times? I watched you almost bleed to death, I watched you almost OD, then I watched as the freaking coast guard pulled your body from the water that day." I hear her sniff and she swipes at her nose.
"You...you were blue. Again, I thought you were dead."
Willow Taylor cries. She knows how to cry.
Now she's done it. She has me where she wants me. Vulnerable and full of guilt. Yep. She's been doing it since 1997.
I roll my eyes and look over to Thea who stays quiet and winks at me ’cause she knows how Willow operates, too. Even though we never lead on that we know she's the world’s best actress.
"Well, I’m not dead so knock it off and...oh, just pick out a pair for me to wear tonight then get the hell out of here so I can get ready for my date."
She pops her head up and I discover her tears are real.
I put my hand on her shoulder and squeeze.
"Wills, seriously, I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere ’cause according to you, and I quote, ‘God doesn't want my ass.’" I smile at her and wink and let her pick out a sexy set of panties and a bra.
"But I’m not wearing the shoes."
***
I check myself in the mirror. I don't look as bad as I thought I was going to. A little bronzer and some heavy-duty eye concealer does baggy under eyes some good. Since the October air has reached us, I decide on a pair of gray leggings, a black spaghetti-strapped tank with an open-sweater overtop. Casual—but stylish—since he told me to dress comfortably. I have no clue what we are doing or where we are going. He text me before I went out last night to tell me to be prepared for a long day of fun.
That piques my curiosity so much it sends me into a frenzy of emotions. A whole day of Daniel and me. God, I can't even imagine what this day is going to turn out to be. I do one last check of my lip gloss, smiling brightly into the bathroom mirror making sure I have no remnants of anything after I brushed my teeth, flossed, and used two lids full of mouthwash. I also packed some mints in my bag.
Just in case.
I left most of my hair down but decided to pull the side up and secure it with a small clip in the center of the back of my head. I usually leave it down because of the hideous scar I have on my hairline from the accident. Today is different though. I feel like it's a fresh start. After the debacle of last night and some pieces of my memories floating back, today I’m going to think about it all tomorrow. Just like Scarlett O'Hara said. Today is all about me—with hot-pink-satin, trimmed-in-black-lace matching panties and bra I’m sporting courtesy of my best friends—and a handsome, British, science teacher. Knowing I’m wearing this stuff underneath makes me blush. Heat creeps up my cheeks and I can feel the blood pumping in my head. Who even knows if he'll see them? I’m doing it for Willow.
That’s what my conscience is telling me.
I hear a knock at the door and at the same time my heart knocks against my chest.
Oh, shit.
I take a few deep breaths and try and slow down the fast-paced beating of my heart.
I go to my door and open it.
Oh, dear Lord in heaven.
Daniel’s standing before me wearing a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses, pink-striped, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up half way, and a delectable pair of well-worn jeans. I may pass out right here right now and then he wouldn’t get to see these panties.
His smile is bright and cheerful, bordering on deadly. Deadly to my hormonal system.
He takes off his sunglasses and looks at me, I mean, really looks at me. Up and down, head to toe and I feel violated like he knows what’s under here. That I know is not true, but just the way his eyes survey my body, well, those chills I get when he's near, they are in full effect.
"You look fantastic, Harlow." He grabs for my hand and kisses the top of it and I know from this point on, I’m a goner.
I smile back at him, my cheeks, still feeling the creeping of heat upon them.
"You don't look so bad yourself."
"Are you ready to go?" I nod and grab my purse. I lock the door behind me and walk out onto the front walkway of my house but something in my driveway stops me in my tracks.
I look back at Daniel who is grinning from ear to ear. I point at the magnificent black, shiny, classic convertible with its whitewall tires and beautifully polished chrome grill on the front. It is simply a work of art.
Words don't come out. Instead, Daniel grabs my hand and leads me to it. He opens the passenger side door and motions for me to climb in. I sink into the plush, red-leather seats and run my hands along the sleek dashboard. Daniel hops in the front and starts the engine.
"Daniel, this is not your car. I know what your car looks like and this is not it."
He sticks his sunglasses back on and adjusts the rearview mirror.
"Nope. It's a loner. You up for a drive and picnic on this beautiful afternoon?"
"Absolutely," I answer him a little bit too enthusiastically.
On the drive to our destination, Daniel tells me the car belongs to a friend of his whom he met when he first moved to the States. It's a 1962 Oldsmobile F85 Cutlass Convertible. His friend buys and restores them and brings them to shows. It's in pristine condition.
With the wind in my hair and not a care in the world, I look out onto the deep blue skies and bright sun feeling so good. The radio playing Queen
sets a great mood.
About a half hour later, Daniel pulls up to a park. There are families everywhere and people throwing Frisbees to their dogs. Plenty of people are sprawled out on blankets soaking up the rays of this beautiful fall day.
Daniel, ever the gentleman, gets out and hurries to my side. He opens the door and lends me a hand to get out.
"Harlow, where is your crutch?"
Damn, I forgot it.
I lie to him even though I feel bad doing it.
"Oh, my physical therapist told me to go ahead this weekend and try not to use it."
He takes off his sunglasses and his eyes tell me he so doesn't believe a word. I smirk and he reaches into the back seat to grab a picnic basket and blanket. He takes my hand and we slowly walk to find the perfect spot to sit.
Under a big maple tree, where its leaves are changing from green to gold, he sprawls out the blanket and we sit. Daniel reaches inside and starts to pull out all sorts of amazing foods. Fruit, cheeses, breads of all sorts, and two Peanut Butter and jelly sandwiches. He hands me one and shrugs. "I don't mess with a good thing."
We eat and talk and laugh. He tells me Ally and Henry called when they arrived at the theme park they are at. He misses Henry. I can tell and I kind of miss seeing the little man, too.
"So, Harlow, tell me how of all the jobs in the world you chose teaching?"
I take a sip of my Root beer, yes, Root beer, (so good by the way) and swallow.
"It's the one thing I always knew I wanted to do. I used to set up my bedroom with my dolls and used old shoe boxes as desks for them. My dad bought a blackboard for my room and hung it on one of my walls for me. I had a year’s supply of chalk and I would just pretend I was teaching them." I feel sort of embarrassed I told him that.
He grins at me and shakes his head.
"What?" I say as I swat at his arm.
"Nothing." He lies on his side and leans his elbow on the ground resting his head in his hand.
"I think that's the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. I can picture it because I have seen you in action, Miss Hannum."
"Very funny. So tell me how you out of all the jobs in the world decided to go into teaching?"
"Emily," he says with little emotion in his voice.
"She taught?" I ask, popping a grape in my mouth.
"That's how we met. I was a Chemistry major, she was an Education major. We met our sophomore year at University. She made education sound fun and exciting, and explained how you got most of the summer holidays off."
I throw a grape at him and he actually catches it in his mouth. I smile and raise my eyebrows in surprise.
"That night at your house, when I saw her picture with Henry, I realized how much he looks like her. So tell me, who is his real father?"
He laughs and rolls onto his back. "He looks more like Emily's dad, Big Henry."
"Big Henry?"
He nods and smiles. "Yup, Big Henry."
Things get quiet.
"So how often does he see Henry?"
He sits up and hugs his knees loosely. "He saw him in the summer before we left. He is going to visit for the Christmas holiday and then we will head over this summer for a few weeks. Skype is a wonderful invention. He gets to see Henry a few days a week."
"That's wonderful. For both of them."
There's a chill in the air and I shiver. Daniel notices and pulls something out of a small bag he has beside the picnic basket. It's a sweatshirt. It's Daniel's.
He hands it to me. "Please put this on so you don't catch a chill." I stick it over my head and it's huge and its delicious smell invades my nostrils. I bring its collar to my nose and inhale without Daniel seeing what I’m up to, but it doesn't work.
With eyebrows raised and he pulls down his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose.
"Did you just smell my pullover?"
Kill me now.
"Um..., Eh...oh, yes. Okay. I did."
I cover my face feeling more than embarrassed by my apparent stammering of words.
He falls onto the blanket on his back and laughs. I mean, he seriously belly laughs.
"What's so funny? It smells nice. I like whatever laundry detergent you use."
He sits up wiping his eyes. He comes closer to me on the blanket and I sit here a stew. His eyes meet mine when he lifts my chin with his finger and scoots even closer. Our noses touch and he rubs the tip of his with mine.
"My detergent? Come on now, Miss Hannum, you have to have a better excuse for smelling my pullover the way you did. Tell me," he whispers. "I will not give you detention."
These poor, poor expensive panties do not stand a chance where Daniel Mathewson and his sexy accent are concerned.
I close my eyes and squirm a little as his soft voice resonates through me and try to speak. No, I know in my mind I’m speaking but I don't hear myself.
"I...um, I really like the way you smell."
With my eyes still closed and his mouth so close to mine that I can feel his breath he hums. "Mmm. I like the way you smell, too. Your classroom smells like you every time I walk into it when I go to fake borrow an eraser or some chalk."
"Fake borrow?" I question breathlessly.
"Fake borrow," he says in the same tone. "I purposely make excuses to come into your classroom to borrow silly things." His finger trails across my lips, to the outline of my chin then back up the other side. My whole body jumps to life with the simplest of touches, the smallest amounts of tactility when skin comes in contact with skin.
"Why, why do you do that?" I sound like a freaking child and when he speaks so softly to me, I have to squeeze those half broken thighs of mine together in order to stop this constant ache between them.
His large hand cups my face.
"I do it because I don't want to go through the day without seeing you or smelling you. Without you even knowing it, you pull me towards you in a way I’ve never been pulled before. I’m a lost cause when it comes to you, Harlow."
My heart rate has to be over two hundred and I know at any second I could go into cardiac arrest, but if he kisses me and I die right here on this picnic blanket, my last words will be “what a way to go.”