Mess To Be Made

16

"Allie! Will you help with the tablecloths please!"

This was the fifth time she had yelled at me to come help with something. "Yes, Mom, I'll be right down!"

I quickly coated my eyelashes with mascara, knowing I could put a few more coats on later, before examining myself in the mirror.

It was the Annual Carson Neighborhood Holiday Party and our house was completely transformed.

The kitchen was a sea of different catered food dishes—a variety of appetizer, entree, and dessert choices. A bar and hired bartender were set up on our outside patio underneath some heating lamps. The living room had been cleared slightly to make room for some additional tables and chairs. Our Christmas tree was perfectly decorated in the corner. Garland was strewn about on nearly every possible surface and scented candles that somehow smelled like fresh snow were lit in every room.

I was wearing one of my favorite dresses—a forest green color that went to my knees but had a slit up the side to my upper thigh. It was fitted around the torso, but the bottom, while still slim, was loose. So when I walked I felt the fabric brushing against my skin.

I almost always straightened my long blonde hair, but tonight I'd curled it so it hung in waves. My eyeshadow was sparkling gold, my lips tinted slightly red from my lip-gloss.

As I stared at myself in the mirror, I felt pretty.

Actually pretty.

"Allison!"

"I'm coming!" I yelled, though it really sounded like a loud groan, before making my way downstairs to help my mom with the final touches before guests arrived, which wasn't long after.

The families my mom were closest to were the first to arrive—the Henley's down the street, the Dickenson's who lived one street over, and the Lockman's who lived two doors down. These were practically the only guests I knew—or cared to know—and I made small talk with them, just long enough to be polite.

Once I'd finished speaking with those three families, I knew I was in the clear in terms of having to at least pretend like I was put together. I grabbed a cup of apple cider from the bartender outside and added what must've been three shots of bourbon to it from a bottle sitting out in the kitchen.

The combination was actually really, really good. Maybe I'd see if Steven could get me some bourbon and I could recreate this for New Year's Eve.

I stood in the corner of the living room that had a perfect view of the front door. The Hennessy's hadn't arrived yet, and after nearly an hour since the party started, I was starting to lose hope they were going to come. I scrolled through Instagram on my phone in between texting Lindsay and Rachel in our group chat. Still, I waited, sipping my bourbon cider.

7:06. Over an hour now and there was still no sign of the Hennessy's.

I convinced myself to wait until 7:15 before texting Sean to come pick me up.

I went and grabbed another cup of cider before taking a trip to the kitchen to spike it again with bourbon. When I got back to my corner of the living room, I checked my phone.

7:13. My limbs felt heavy as I began to force myself to accept that they weren't coming.

7:14.

The door opened. And so did my jaw.

He looked better than I could've even imagined.

His hair was slightly disheveled, but particularly placed so some of it swiped across his forehead. He was wearing a gray button-down shirt, tucked into a pair of clean-cut, dark jeans.