Free Off Limits by Delilah Wilde Page B

didn't live in the city and I didn't have the money to travel home to see her. I didn't exactly have many friends in the city, so I allowed Trisha to organize a birthday dinner for both of us. She had insisted that it would be fun and not at all pathetic. She'd invite everyone she knew and I would have a magical evening.
    Though I wasn't in the mood, I managed to force myself out of bed and into a vaguely presentable dress. I dragged a comb through my hair and put on a wash of that red lipstick, thinking that I might as well get some use out of it.
     
    Trisha picked me up at seven in the evening, dressed in an interesting pink rhinestone number that looked like something a kid would wear in one of those creepy child beauty pageants. She hugged me tight and tossed me a bag full of presents before she began to drive to the restaurant.
     
    "Trisha, you shouldn't have," I said. I unwrapped every package. There was another pink lipstick, a bottle of perfume that smelled like bubblegum, a pair of pink heart earrings, a box of chocolates and even a little feather toy for Lucy.
     
    "Don't worry about it honey. I know you've had a tough year. It's my birthday too, but tonight's your night," she winked and shot me a pearly white smile. She seemed unenthusiastic about my present, a collage of childhood pictures of us and a pink nail polish, but she thanked me all the same. She didn't even make a dig at my financial problems, which I greatly appreciated.
    We pulled up in front of a fancy Chinese restaurant. It was the kind of place that served the exact same food that you'd find in a take-out place only less greasy and four times as expensive. Trisha had chosen well.
    We got out of the car and were greeted by a whole bunch of Trisha's friends, a few who I had met at the wedding. Her husband didn't seem to be anywhere in sight but I bit my tongue and didn't say anything. Maybe he would be coming later.
    We went inside and Trisha asked for the biggest table in the house. It was all very grand inside, with dangling chandeliers and waitresses in red silk dresses. I was about to sit between two of her friends when Trisha stopped me.
     
    "No Ruby!" she scolded, "You need an empty seat beside you! Not everyone is here yet."
     
    A few stragglers arrived within the next ten minutes. They were kind enough to bring me presents and were very over the top in wishing me a happy birthday. I wonder if Trisha had threatened them to act that way. I couldn't say that I minded. Maybe this wouldn't be a bad night after all.
    One of them tried to sit next to me and Trisha yelled at her, insisting that that seat was taken. Strange. Very strange. I couldn't understand why Trisha wasn't allowing her friends to sit beside me. She had said it herself. Tonight was my night.
     
    I soon understood everything. Jeff walked in, dressed as scruffily as he had in college in a too big shirt and shabby looking jeans. He was holding two bunches of gas station flowers in his hands, one of them very pink and the other more red.
    Trisha greeted him as if he was her long lost brother and took her bunch of flowers as if they were hot house lilies.
     
    "How thoughtful!" she exclaimed, "Oh Jeff, you really are the perfect guy!"
     
    I knew what was coming next. He sat next to me and handed me the red bunch of flowers. I thanked him curtly and put them under the table with my other gifts. He looked heartbroken at my coldness but I didn't care.
     
    "Are you ready to order?" asked one of the pretty waitresses. I saw Jeff's eyes wander to her tight silk ensemble for a moment, but he soon thought better of it and his eyes returned to me. I opened my mouth to say yes but Trisha interrupted me.
     
    “Sorry, we're still waiting on one more person. Wait, here he is!” Trisha waved enthusiastically. I looked behind me and my heart immediately sank.
     
    It was Nate.
     
    He looked incredible of course, dressed in his leather jacket and an expensive looking pair of black jeans. His