The takeout food wafts up my nose as I knock on Amelia's door, one minute before 3:00. She immediately opens it a second later.
"That was quick. Were you standing by the door this whole time?"
"Yes, now get in here. We have so much to do."
I originally meant it as a joke, but seeing her frazzled state should have told me what the answer was going to be. She takes the food from me and places it on the counter. Her hair is a mess, strands sticking up in all different directions. She's still wearing her pink plaid pajamas, but the top is buttoned all wrong. Her eyes have a crazy look in them.
"Alright, that's enough. Tell me who this guy is and why you are in constant panic mode."
"Fine, but prepare yourself. This is a cliche, boy-next-door story." Her voice trails off and she mumbles, "too bad it's not in the books.
Starting to fill her plate, I do the same. "It all started when I was going into sixth grade. My old babysitter had moved away and another family had moved in. I didn't really care, you know? I didn't really talk to anyone and there was no way that a family with a child my age was going to move in there. Anyways, my family and I went shopping one morning in August. We came back and this guy was smoking in what we called their 'park.' They had side property that you could walk through and a bench swing near the fireplace set up.
"I automatically commented on the smoking man. I was like 'great, they smoke.' Turns out, he was only the grandfather of the family. He came right up to us and let us know that he did not live there, but his son and family. Now, my memory may be a little warped, but I think the first time I ever saw him, he was getting out of a god-awful minivan. I liked him from that moment, I knew we would be something in the future, felt it in my bones.
"He didn't even know I was there until our first dinner with them. It was nice, awkward, but nice. Our sisters immediately became friends, they are the same age. They were always doing something whether it was putting on shows for us or watching movies. The boy and I, well that's a little more complicated. You see, he was a big gamer and computers were his life. I would watch him play for hours. My feelings were growing and his didn't even seem to be there.
"One day, I went to join the girls. The boy and I never really talked again. For a couple of years, we were strangers. Then, something clicked and he came over and we hit it off. Everything was great, we had our first kiss, he was my first time. But college came. I decided to leave home and come here, and he wanted to study abroad. I don't know why, but he never gave us a chance when he decided to leave America. I guess I understand it. Who wants to be tied down to a girl in America when foreign girls are much hotter with their sexy accents?"
I don't know whether I want to knock some sense into her or tell her to stop underestimating herself at this moment.
"How could you say all of those things about yourself when you are pretty, funny, confident, unapologetic about who you are, and most of all, a great friend who knows just what I or anyone else needs? If this guy doesn't see that or doesn't like you for who you are then honey, he's not worth your time. You deserve someone who will try to defend you even though you don't need it. Someone who will love all of your quirks and wait for you until he can see you again.
"You should not be so concerned about seeing him again. If your relationship was as great as you make it out to be, then you should be more excited about seeing him and less worried about him coming with a new girl who is 'hotter' than you. Girl, you don't need to be hot because you are beautiful, both inside and out."
"You know what?" Amelia asks, pushing back her chair to stand up. "You're right. He was mine before he went away and if he doesn't still feel the same way then I can find another guy too. And, even better, he'll be hot without an accent."
She sits back down then, the excitement of her declaration gone. "We still need to set up though. Other people are going to be here and I don't feel like being around a bunch of hungry and drunk people."
"I agree. What do we have to do?"
Three stops and two and a half hours later, I drop the multiple bags down on the floor in the kitchen. The chip bags crinkle against the hardwood. Amelia comes through the door seconds later, her arms full of bags as well.
"Do you mind setting that up while I go shower? I never did that after our call, I was too stressed out. But, surprisingly, I feel really calm all of a sudden. Thanks for helping out today."
"I can do it. Go take a shower. We can get ready together after that."
"Great, thanks."
She walks down the hall and I sneer at the bags on the floor. I don't mind helping her, but unloading groceries, with the amount we bought, is going to be annoying. It doesn't help that I have no idea where the bowls are for the chips.
Rummaging around in the cabinets, the last one I check has her set of clear, plastic bowls. Finally. Opening the bags, I shake the chips into the bowl and repeat the process until most of the floor is clear and I run out of bowls. Moving on to the dips, I search for smaller bowls, not thinking to take them out when I was looking earlier.
Luckily, they are in the second cabinet I check. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer next to the sink, I had to grab them when we had a movie night with ice cream a couple of weeks ago, I scoop out the dip. After finishing that, I feel accomplished. The floor is finally clear and the snacks are set up.
Popping her head around, I jump as Amelia asks me if I want to go get ready for tonight. Putting on the dress I bought earlier, I can't help thinking about the first disastrous party I went to with the boys. I wonder what Damon is doing right now. Does he miss me? Did he see my text that I wasn't home? Is he going to be here tonight? Amelia said he could. I hope he comes.
Getting ready is quicker than we both originally thought. The pizza will be here around 10 and everyone will be here around 8. The snacks should last for the first two hours since it's typically slow at the beginning.
Flipping through the channels, we settle on "Dirty Dancing" with Patrick Swayze. Amelia won't admit it, but I know she has a huge crush on him. I do, too. Who wouldn't?
We just hit play when the doorbell rings. Amelia's finger freezes centimeters above the button. I groan. We still have a little over an hour and a half, it's just enough time to get through it!
Looking over to Amelia, she seems frozen. Her face is pale, and her hands are shaky. Taking the remote from her, I look at her.
"Amelia, who is it?"
"He said he would be early, but I didn't think he would be this early. I'm not ready. Do I look ready to you?"
At this precise moment, with the crazy look in her eyes, she looks ready for a mental hospital, forget a party.
"Hey, it's going to be fine. Remember what we talked about earlier? If he doesn't like you for you then he is not worth it."
"Right. Right. Me or nothing. I got it."
She stands up on shaky legs. Holding the armrest, she rounds the couch, looking through the peephole. A small squeak passes her lips and she slightly backs away.
The doorbell sounds throughout the house again. Amelia takes another step back as if a monster is on the other side of the door.
"Amelia," I whisper-yell, "answer it!"
"I don't want to. I'm not ready. Open it and tell him I'm not here."
I shrug my shoulders and move towards the door. I move my hand to place it on the knob in slow motion. If she doesn't want me to answer, now is her chance to stop me. I look back at her once, my hand on the doorknob. She waves me on and I turn the knob, opening the door.
The porch light illuminates the tall figure. With his curly blonde hair, muscled body, and baby blue eyes, he is a sight to behold. I prefer guys with black hair, but even I can admit he is very good looking.
His voice brings my wondering eyes back up to his face. "Hi, is Amelia here? I'm Duke, her boyfriend."