mtweb

'I do too!' I protested. 'I have a whole list of rules.' I began counting them off. 'Don't date a guy who wears more jewelry than me, don't date a guy who uses party as a verb, don't date a Taurus because they're emotionally unavailable-'

'Didn't you get her instructions?' I asked. 'What instructions?' I pulled a neatly typed 3 x 5 card out of my evening bag. 'Number One: Eat a large salad with no-cal dressing before tha party. Number Two: Drink one 8-ounce glass of mineral water between each alcoholic beverage. Number Three: Limit alcoholic beverages to-'

Fabulous new hairstyle. Check. All new makeup employing all the latest beauty breakthroughs. Check. A vast number of brushes with which to apply makeup. Check. Hair care products, skin care products, nail care products. Check. Slinky little dresses and flirty little skirts. Check. Selection of tops with plunging necklines. Check. Lingerie. Double Check. Shoes and bags. Oh my God, Check.

I winced. I hate to be needy. I don't like being weak and I don't like being dependent. Hell, I don't even like being taken to the airport.

'He took me to the airport this morning.' That stopped her. At least for a few seconds. 'You let him?' 'Not only that,' I told her. 'I liked it.' 'Becks! This is huge!'

I had liked it. And it was huge. I never let people take me to the airport. I hate it. I hate that they're doing me a favor. I hate that I have to make conversation with them all the long way there, and keep telling them what airline I'm on because they always forget and have to circle the departures level forever after they've missed the right turnout. And I have to be cheerful about that, even though it means I won't have time to stop at Starbucks before getting on the plane because this person is taking time out of their life to get me to the damn airport.

I'd much rather just pay an anonymous cabbie who does this for a living, doesn't care if I want to spend the time in the taxi thinking about everything that I have to do once I get wherever I'm going, and who knows when to turn to get me to the right drop-off zone.

But Josh had woken me up early that morining, taken me to my place, and made coffee while I threw things out of last week's suitcase and into this week's. And then we hadn't even discussed it. He'd taken me and it hadn't felt like a gigantic thing, and the conversation hadn't been forced, and he'd known better than me what flight I was on, because he'd printed my itinerary out from my e-mail while I'd been in the shower. It had been...nice.