All Summer on a Date: Three Romantic Comedy Short Stories by Geralyn Corcillo

All Summer on a Date
     
    “What are you going to wear?”
    “Lily ...” Summer took a deep breath. “I was telling you about The Catch—”
    “Got it,” Lily said, cutting into Summer's story. “Some football thing, then he asked you out. Now, what are you wearing?”
    Summer stretched her neck, easing out the kinks. But at least this time, she had the right answer. “It's so perfect.” She preened, looking at her reflection in the long oval mirror. “Sleek, down to my ankles, with a slit up the side. Not exactly black, but—”
    “Send me a picture.”
    Summer looked at herself, all decked out in the dress. She couldn't send a picture. Not this instant. Not with her hair all twisted up into tiny pigtails so that later she'd have rakishly lilting curls. And her feet! Lily would never let her hear the end of it. True, Summer had no intention of wearing the thigh-high black boot that was snaking up her right leg. Even though it was raining enough to launch the ark. No, tonight she would wear the five inch strappy stiletto that graced her left foot. She'd just tried the boot for fun, to see if it would give her a sexy sorceress look.
    “Summer, if you—”
    “Hang on,” she said, dashing over to her computer. “There. I just emailed you the pic from the website. What do you think?”
    The low whistle echoing through the phone made Summer clench her fist in victory.
    “Nice,” Lily said. “Sexy, but not too slutty. And the color—sophisticated. What size did you have to get?”
    “Eight.”
    Pause. “Eight?”
    “I go running every morning!”
    “What about shoes?”
    Summer quickly ducked her feet under the chair, even though she wasn't video-chatting with Lily. “Killer shoes,” she said quickly. “I'm sending you that pic, too.”
    This time, there was no whistle. “Summer.” Lily sounded as if a missile were headed right for her. “Can you even walk in heels that high?”
    Summer tightened her jaw. “I wear heels almost every day now.”
    “O … kay … ay.” Lily stretched the word out to three syllables, each one lathered with skepticism.
    Summer let it slide, deciding not to mention how much she'd practiced. She could walk in heels now, and that was all that counted. Lily didn't know it, but Summer pulled off looking poised and chic on a daily basis at the magazine. And she did it so flawlessly that no one ever seemed to question how the heck a paint-splattered rabble-rouser like Summer Hodiak had gotten that way. Thank goodness nobody at Consequence knew Lily.
    “And Summer?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Tonight's a big deal, so please, just keep your mouth shut. You finally have a date with a keeper. Don't scare him off.”
    “How can I keep my mouth completely shut?” Summer kicked off the one high heel she'd been wearing and rubbed her foot. “It's our first date. I have to talk a little. That's the point of a first date.”
    “It's New Year's Eve. Just let him do all the talking, and the night will take care of itself. Whenever you open that mouth of yours, men run, career opportunities disappear, and Mom asks me to have another baby.”
    “I just—”
    “I know. You just fight for what's right, change the world with your art, yada, yada, yada. You and Michael Moore would get along like gangbusters if you would just move to Michigan.”
    “I hate being cold.”
    “Focus, Summer! What kind of car does Kyle drive? And what color?”
    Summer dropped her foot. “How would I know?”
    “Because you work with him at the magazine!” Lily huffed out a huge sigh. “Were you raised in a barn?”
    “You're my sister, for Pete's sake! I was raised with you .”
    “Which is why I don't understand how you can be so clueless. Summer, try to match his car. Your dress, your jewels, your handbag. Subtly make it clear that you fit into his life, and you'll be engaged by Easter.”
    “It's our first —”
    “Gotta go. Dean's home with the girls. Just try to be posh, and you'll have the power