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those words.
    Maryanne sprung up
to a sitting position, her eyes widening in surprise. “Lana, that’s awesome!
Who’s the guy? He must be pretty special if you agreed to go out with him. Give
me all the details!”
    I told Maryanne about
Michael, trying my hardest not to gush too much. I knew from firsthand
experience how obnoxious that could be.
    “He sounds so hot!”
she squealed. “And he’s twenty-nine and already a doctor? Not even just a
doctor. An oncologist. That’s seriously sexy! I mean, you’ve really hit the
jackpot.”
    “It’s just a
date,” I reminded her, but I couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off of my face.
Saturday wouldn’t get here soon enough.
    ###
    Maryanne had
advised me to play it cool and not call Dr. Reynolds until Thursday. “I know
you’re excited but you don’t want to look too eager,” she warned.
    “What if he thinks
I’ve lost interest?” I argued.
    MA had rolled her
eyes. “He’s obviously super into you. Even if his ego is wounded, he’ll
rebound. Trust me.”
    I thought I might
see Michael during my shift at the hospital on Wednesday, but I didn’t. I tried
not to feel disappointed. I knew he liked me, and it was unrealistic to expect
him to rearrange his schedule every day I volunteered on the off chance that we
might see each other.
    So, Thursday, in
between Macroeconomics and Statistics, I pulled Michael’s card out of my
wallet, and, with shaking hands, dialed the number. He didn’t answer. What
did you expect? He’s probably with a patient.
    “Hey, Michael,
this is Lana. Just, um, calling so you have my number. See you Saturday.” I
hung up so I didn’t say anything else. I hated leaving voicemails. Too easy to
say something stupid that could be played over and over again. At least if you
fucked up and sounded like an asshole in real life no one could replay the
moment.
    I didn’t hear from
Michael all day, and by the time I got home that afternoon I was convinced that
he’d changed his mind and wanted nothing to do with me.
    “Relax!” Maryanne
tried to console me. “You’re being silly. He’s an oncologist, for fuck’s sake.
He’s probably still at the office. And he knows he’s seeing you tomorrow at the
hospital.”
    “Fine,” I
muttered, feeling aggravated.
    The next morning I
took extra time getting ready for classes and my volunteer job. I tried on
outfit after outfit, unsatisfied with how everything looked. My entire wardrobe
basically consisted of jeans and t-shirts; I’d never had anyone I cared about
impressing before. But now I did, and I wanted to look feminine, sexy.
    “Try this,”
Maryanne said, throwing a sundress at me.
    I pulled it on.
“It’s cute,” I said skeptically, “but I’m not sure it suits me.”
    “It looks great!”
Maryanne was exasperated. “That’s one of my favorite dresses.”
    “I think that’s
the problem,” I replied. “I don’t feel like myself.”
    “Sometimes it’s
good to get out of your comfort zone,” she argued.
    I studied the dress
in the mirror. It was black, had spaghetti straps and tiny blue and purple
flowers. I tugged at the top. “It’s too low cut,” I said. “And you’ve got way
bigger tits than me. I barely fill it out.”
    Maryanne laughed.
“You’re nuts. It looks fantastic on you. Almost as good as it looks on me.” She
stuck out her tongue.
    “Ugh, I’m going to
be late for class,” I muttered. “I guess this will do.” I twisted my long hair
into a loose bun and secured it with bobby pins.
    “Use this,”
Maryanne said, tossing me a tube of mascara. I never wore makeup. My skin was
so pale already; I didn’t see the point of piling on foundation. Although I had worn it in the past, when I wanted to attract men. When I cared .
    “Does it look
alright?” I asked self-consciously after applying the mascara. “Do I need
anything else?”
    “That makes your
eyes pop, but I think you’ll look even more stunning with dark eye shadow.” She
tossed