**HOLLY**
She had just turned nineteen and yet, walking the street, any passer-by would swear she couldn’t be older than sixteen. Sweet sixteen. That was probably why she always got away with so much-her small body and big puppy-dog eyes were hard to say no to. She was liked by everyone who met her and cherished by all those in her life. And yet, Holly had never actually been in love. She swore it was because she looked so young, and that nobody took her seriously.
When she dressed up for a night out on the town, she looked like a young girl that was trying too hard. She was desperate for someone to call her ‘sexy’ rather than always calling her ‘cute.’ She was certainly pretty, though-that much was hard to ignore. Holly was small in stature, with short perky breasts to match her frame, beautiful long brown hair, and big green eyes that seemed too big for her face but made her look like an angel. She was breathtaking, and once you laid eyes on her, she was hard to forget.
What Holly didn’t realize was just how many boys and men found her attractive, and that the only reason nobody ever asked her out was because they found her intimidating. Despite being so small, she somehow managed to leave people speechless, and most felt that they were completely out of her league. This was a pity because she was definitely ready for love. She spent most of her nights reading romance novels or watching romantic movies. Because of this, she had built up this idea in her head that the right man was going to come and sweep her off her feet.
She believed that true love existed and declared that she would never settle for just any man. So instead of going out and looking for a man, like so many of her other friends did, she lay low with the quiet confidence that someday love would find her.
Today was a day just like any other, and she was gearing up for another night in with movies and ice cream. She lived alone in a small apartment with only a little sausage dog to keep her company. She’d named him ‘Sir Lancelot,’ and she’d spend hours reading to him each night while the dog looked up at her as if she were insane. She’d then ruffle his fur and announce, “One day, Sir Lancelot. One day we’ll meet him. He’ll be my perfect husband, and he’ll be your perfect father.”
Which meant, of course, that she had already conjured up an image of this man that she believed she’d one day fall in love with. This man, more than likely created as a combination of various novels and movies, was tall-but not too tall. He had sandy blonde hair that stuck in a sexy mess each morning, and bright blue eyes. He’d be kind and funny and possibly about two or three years older than her. Of course, he’d be doing a job that he loves-perhaps something to do with a charity-and yet he’d be making a suitable amount of money to have a great big house for all their upcoming children.
“Dream big,” she’d tell Sir Lancelot each night, “dream big!”
She settled herself onto the couch, flipping through her movies while trying to decide which one she’d be watching that evening. Most were movies that she’d seen endless times, so it was just a matter of which one she wanted to see again. She finally decided on one when her phone rang, and she jumped in surprise. It wasn’t often that people phoned her at night. They knew what she was like, and most of the time, they respected her privacy. It simply took about a hundred times of her saying ‘no’ for them to finally get the idea. Even poor Sir Lancelot jumped up from her lap.
She ran to answer it, hoping it wasn’t going to be bad news.
“Holly, it’s me, Chantelle.” Although she didn’t have to say her name, not many people phoned Holly, and she knew that voice anywhere. Chantelle’s voice was always happy, as if she’d just swallowed a handful of happy pills. It was hard to be sad around someone like her, and Holly considered her to be a good friend.
“I know you like having your quiet evenings to yourself, but I have decided tonight to go against your beliefs and lure you out for a night with the girls. What do you say? Can I tempt you?”
Chantelle was one of the girls from Holly’s work. They worked together at one of the local restaurants, both waitressing while studying to be something else. Chantelle had her hopes on becoming a hairdresser one day, while Holly wanted to be a writer. Both of them had nobody to help them through college, and they were determined to pay their own way through.
It was this strong-headedness and willpower that set them apart from all the other girls and what first created the friendship bond between them. Chantelle was brilliant at what she did too. She didn’t want to be any run-of-the-mill hairdresser, but had plans to work for the stars. And Holly believed her. She was just the type of person that would get exactly what she wanted in life. The girls at work didn’t ever want her to leave because they all got free haircuts throughout the year. Customers were constantly commenting on how stylish all the workers at the restaurant were.
Holly had been out with Chantelle once, in her first week at the job-possibly just to fit into her new environment-but had never done so again. It wasn’t that it hadn’t been a lot of fun, it was just that Holly had felt like an outcast among the girls. Chantelle had invited her group of friends to join her, and they had all been gorgeous and incredibly self-confident. Not only that, but with their short dresses and their high heels, they looked to be a few years older than they really were.
Not Holly-no matter how much makeup she put on or how scantily she tried to dress-she still looked young. So young, in fact, that when they had first arrived at the club, she had been asked for some sort of identification. She had laughed and made a joke out of it, and all the girls had told her how lucky she was to look so young, but she had been mortified and secretly wished that she wasn’t there.
Boys had come up to them throughout the night, and while a lot of them did come and talk to her, most would walk away with one of the other girls. She was beautiful, and they had been attracted to her, but she had also been aloof and somewhat disinterested, so they had walked away. In the end, she had left the club early, feigning illness, but vowed she would never go again.
“Ah, no, I’m already in my pajamas, Chantelle. I’m settling in for a night on the couch. You guys go without me. You know I’m no good at things like that,” she said, her voice quivering in embarrassment. She knew that she was not like all the other girls who wanted desperately to go out each night and have fun.
“Oh come on, Holly. You know I never ask you to come out with us. I’ve been so good not to make you do anything you don’t want to do. But I’m only asking because it’s my birthday, and I’d really like you to be there. If you just paid a little bit more attention to the boys, they’d be fighting for you, you know! You are wasting your beauty. One day you’ll be old and wrinkled, and you’ll wish that you had gone out more. Just this once, Holly. Pretty please. For me. I won’t ask you again, I promise.”
Holly sighed. Normally, she’d have said no and continued to say no until Chantelle had gotten the picture. But it was Chantelle’s birthday, and the two of them were really good friends. How could she say no? She didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Fine, fine,” she finally said, “but only because it’s your birthday. And I probably won’t stay all night. Okay?”
Chantelle squealed. “You won’t regret it, Holly. Oooh, I’m so excited now. You’ve totally made my day. Okay, I’m getting a cab, so I’ll get him to swing by your place first. We’ll be there at around 9 p. m.”
Holly put down the phone and looked at her watch. 9 p. m.? That was two hours away. **Why do people have to start their evening so late? Why can’t we go to a club that starts at 7 p. m. and be home by 9 p. m.?** she thought to herself, somewhat aware that she was sounding like an old lady.
—