“I feel a little ridiculous.” I half-frowned at myself. “Are you sure this is ok?”

I stared at my reflection in Des’s full-length mirror. She managed to take some of my clothes, and through some otherworldly hocus-pocus, turn them fashionable. Des took out a dress I didn’t even realize was snuck into my closet—the culprit standing right beside me—and all but forced me to try it on. It was red, sleeveless, and form-fitting. She called it a Lerve Heger look-a-like--whatever that was supposed to mean. By the looks of it though, Des had made it during one of her design classes.

Sneaky this one is.

Then, she took out a pair of my black-heeled lace-up boots and paired it with my black leather half-jacket. Des even went so far as to fix up my hair and do my make-up. By the end of her little makeover, I looked like an entirely different person. And if I didn’t need my glasses to see, no one would ever know it was me.

“Non, non,” she beamed, proud of her accomplishment. “You look fabulous!”

“If you say so…” My mouth twisted in uncertainty.

“Oui. Now I will finish up and we’ll meet up with Jane and everyone else.”

I nodded, staring at myself one last time. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I hardly ever dressed like this. This was Des’s department. I was happy to just be in a witty tee and a pair of skinnies.

Precious few minutes passed before Des announced she was ready. When I looked at her, I whistled teasingly. “Ooh, boys, watch out! Des is serious tonight.”

Des had on a pair of white skinny jeans with red high heels and a black, loose-fitted top. Her hair was a sexy jungle of curls, and she wore that white and silver smoky eye like she was going down a runway.

She laughed lightheartedly. “Merci, ma cherie. Now, off we go!”

*****

“Ok, only one rule before we go in.” I told her right before we reached the entrance. I really hope they let us in… I thought, thinking of the worst-case scenario. Or would that be the best-case scenario?

“And that is?” Des asked chipperly.

“Not all of us can buy drinks. So, don’t leave me alone because you decided to get in a wee bit of a drunken stupor, ok?”

At that, Des seriously choked. “I would never leave you in such a way. You have nothing to fear.”

My partner in crime was twenty-one while I was a year younger. Sometimes she partied a little too much, and I had to go and get her. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was a big pain.

“You promise?”

She nodded. “I promise.” She agreed right before we were let inside Connect. 

*****

“Des!” the group from her design class screamed above the music.

“You look fantastic!” Jane told her, checking out her ensemble.

“And is that… Penn?” one of the guys asked—I think his name was Taylor. I vaguely remember meeting a Taylor.

“The one and only.” I replied.

“Whoa, Benson, you look hot!” Taylor grinned. “Where have you been hiding all that?”

“Apparently my closet.” I blushed. “But it wouldn’t have been possible without the spectacular Des Louvière!”

They applauded her as she took a bow.

“I didn’t do anything that wasn’t already there.” She winked at me.

“Hey, Penn,” Jane called me. “You’d probably look even better without those goggles on. Take them off. Complete the transformation.”

“Yeah!” the others cheered “Do it! Do it! Do it!”

I looked at Des uncomfortably. I was never really one to comply with peer pressure, but that didn't make experiencing it any less awkward. “I don’t know about that. I won’t be able to see…”

“Come on, Penn,” Taylor took a step closer. “Let’s see those pretty eyes of yours.”

"Sorry, but non." Des told him as she grabbed my arm and brought me towards her. "You're going to need to back off. Petite is all mine tonight, Taylor. As her personal fashion consultant, I can not allow anyone else to dictate her look." Des's eyes glowered before a wide grin devoured her face. Both looks were kind of terrifying, but Des wasted no time on turning her back to Taylor. She didn't even give him a second to figure out a comeback. Instead, she wore this gentle smile as she said, "Now, let's dance. That's what we're here for, is it not?"

Des pulled me to the dance floor, saving me from her fashion junky friends.

“Thanks, Des.” I let out a relieved breath.

“No problem. I’m sorry for them. They can sometimes go overboard. I’ll yell at them later for you.”

"You mean, that wasn't a serious enough scolding you just whipped out?" I smirked.

"Non!" Des shook her head, her face dropping any humor. "That was simply a statement of fact."

I stifled a laugh at the very serious expression Des made. "It's fine." I paused before saying, "Thanks again, though."

A song or two passed in Connect, and I found myself stiff as a board! Meanwhile, Des flowed with the rest of the dancers on the floor. She moved with the group while I was just getting moved by the group. I wasn't sure what to move, or how to move it. All I did know how to do was feel embarrassed by my total lack of party feels.

“Like this,” she said, grabbing my forearms and trying to help me dance.

I tried my best to follow her instructions, but I was pretty sure the universe made me like this for a reason. After a few more songs of sorry attempts, I gave up. I realized that my sick dance moves just weren't meant for Connect.

“I’m going to get some water!” I told Des as I moved away to become the wallflower that I naturally was.

This is Des’s scene. I thought, looking at her as she danced with her friends. I don’t belong in a place like Connect. I feel like an alien here. And not even the cool kind.

I tried to get back to the dance floor, but every time I took a step, I lost confidence and leaned back against the wall.

Well, at least Des looks like she’s having a good time. I smiled at that. Des works hard, even if she tries not to show it. Sometimes, when I’m up late studying or writing, I’ll hear Des on her sewing machine, or see her light on long after I’ve gone to bed. She deserves a night out every once in a while.

As I watched her, some guy came up behind her and started dancing with her. He whispered to her closely, and she grinned from ear-to-ear. When I focused a little more on the man, I noticed that it was Jack.

Wait, Jack!? Jack? Jack? Is he hitting on her? I felt totally blindsided—not too unfamiliar to the way Buttercup felt when she found out Westley was not only alive, but part of the conspiracy that was the Dread Pirate Roberts. Are they into each other? Since when? Why? My brain was reeling!

I seriously didn’t understand how they could be flirting with each other. But then, the longer I stared at them, the more I realized how good they looked together. Des was a Cajun beauty that no one could compare too, and Jack… well, Jack didn’t look half bad tonight in a white shirt that showed off a physique I never noticed before...

I swallowed a lump in my throat and looked down, feeling my cheeks heat up. Don’t blush over that thing! I yelled at myself, angry that I even felt a twinge of… I can’t even think it!

When I looked back up, Des was holding Jack’s hand and leading him towards me.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself.

“Petite, look who I found!” she said, presenting Jack as if I didn’t see him earlier today.

“Wow, Penn…” he smiled at me as if he was impressed. “You look…” Jack just kept staring at me from head-to-toe.

“Like a wet ragdoll?” I finished for him, rolling my eyes.

“No, beautiful.” he genuinely smiled at me before looking back at Des. “So, are we going to get those shots?”

Weeelllll that compliment was short-lived. I mean, what did I expect? A speech?

“Of course!” Des gave him a wicked grin.

“You getting one too?” he asked, inviting me.

“Can’t.” I replied.

“Oh, right, straight shooter.” He teased. “Come on, Des.”

“Be right back, Petite.”

I gave them a short wave and leaned back against the wall.

But little did I know that a few minutes would turn into thirty! And as Des and Jack were waiting, drinking, and dancing, I decided that I could no longer stand the spot that was engraved with my backside. All it managed to do was give me a perfect cinematic view of Des and Jack's fun... without me. 

Feeling like the wall could use better company, I headed towards my roommate. Before I could reach her though, I was snatched up by Taylor who thought it would be a great idea to start trying to grab what my mama gave me.

I glared at him, slapping his hand so hard it sounded like one of the beats in the song. “Back off!”

“Come on, Penn." He gave me a onceover that made my skin crawl. "You can’t expect me not to make a move on you looking like that.”

“You’d be surprised how high my expectation is.” My leer could kill an army. “Now, move.”

Creepzilla here must be of the species that doesn't know what 'no' means because instead of backing off, he actually took a step closer to me. 

“What’s going on here?” Jack asked, staring between the two of us.

Des linked her arm through mine and unleashed a deadly pointed glare. "I already told you, Taylor, Penn is mine." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "She is not for someone like you."

“Hey, we were just—” Taylor started, putting his hands in the air when Des's look didn't lower.

“Yeah, we saw what you were just.” Jack spat at him. “Control yourself, man.”

“Come. Let’s go sit for a while.” Des suggested, putting her free hand on Jack’s tense arm. “Come.”

Jack nodded at her but didn’t take his eyes off Taylor until there were more people blocking the path between us.

“Des,” I started. “I think I’m just going to go home. Thanks for inviting me out, but I think I’m at my limit for tonight.”

She nodded understandingly. “Alright, let us go then.”

“No,” I told her. “You can stay. I’ll just—”

“Non, we will go together.” She told me in that motherly tone that had me zipping my trap. “Goodnight, Jack.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“Night, ladies.” He winked at us.

I felt my fury kick up again, but I managed to contain it this time. After all, he wasn't all that annoying tonight.

“Let’s get going then.” I told Des as we pushed past people in Connect.