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people ask how we met, what would I say? ‘Well, uh, I was at lunch with family friends and had my boyfriend on one side and Ian on the other. It was love at first sight.’ Ahhh!” I put my head in my hands. “I would never live that down. Or what about if I did marry Michael and everyone wanted to know about how he proposed? ‘Well, let’s see … he proposed right after I met the man of my dreams.’ There is no tidy outcome to this situation.”
    Tessa’s voice startles me in the middle of my downward spiral. “Oh, since when do you care what anybody thinks?”
    “Since always?”
    She’s crinkling her forehead at me now, looking like I’ve grown a horn in the middle of my nose. “Noooo, you’re nice and respectful, but you’ve still always done your own thing. This might be a little ‘inconvenient’, but everyone who knows you sees that you follow the beat of a different drummer boy. People would be disappointed if you did the expected.”
    Now I’m looking at her like she has a third ear. I’m used to her giving her own twist to expressions, it’s not that. This is news to me: I know that I’m a bit of a weirdo, but I didn’t realize I wasn’t doing a better job of hiding it.
    “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I say. “And it’s beat of a different drummer, no boy…”
    She continues, not fazed in the slightest by my mush and my correction not registering either. “I’m surprised he hasn’t called you anyway. He sounds like he isn’t afraid of being persistent. He could have gotten your number from Jeff.”
    “I think he was going to have a busy week. I wonder if this weekend is still happening … I think I’m supposed to see him day after tomorrow! We’re all supposed to go to Jeff and Laila’s on Saturday.”
    “You didn’t tell me that part! How could you forget to tell me THAT? Here, ask your mom … text her really quick and see,” she excitedly throws my phone.
    Within minutes my mom texts back that the plan is still on for the weekend and Tessa squeals. “Okay, what ELSE did you leave out? Start from the beginning AGAIN.”
     

 
    - 4 -

     
    Being oblivious has its perks. And when it comes to my appearance, that has always been my motto. This time a week ago, when I was getting ready to meet the Roberts, I don’t think I even bothered to shave my legs. Now, it’s like I’m possessed. I have gone through every beauty ritual possible within the confines of my limited budget. I have exfoliated and buffed and polished. My hair follicles are completely hair-free in the places where that is desirous, and the hairs on my head have never looked so good, let me tell you. The curls, they are practically aglow with all the attention they’ve been given. Loose waves fall down my back, with nary a frizz in sight. My mother will be proud.
    Tessa is so sweet … or maybe she just couldn’t bear the thought of me wearing my norm and knew I was too stubborn to break my New York/Clothes mission again, but she showed up this morning with my outfit. The poor girl has been dying to dress me for years and I haven’t let her waste her time—she’s been too busy doing alterations at her job to sew for me. Whatever her motivation, I am so appreciative. The girl is beyond talented. She made a long, plum slip dress that fits to perfection. It’s comfortable and looks effortless, which is really what I want, even though I have contradicted myself with my actions. Sigh.
    It’s not a date, I realize that. Truly, I do. I just can’t seem to stop the primping. This concept is foreign to me and I’m afraid it will lead to a disastrous character downfall if it continues. Besides loathing shallowness, I really don’t want to lose my, shall we say, edge —over a guy . Aloof has been my middle name for years, and after just one lunch with Ian Sterling, that seems severely threatened.
    I’m buckling my sandals when Charlie comes in my room. Her mouth gapes when she