Cheyenne's first date with Eric
She decided to go with a strapless black knee-length dress that complimented her hour-glass figure.
She sat down on the edge of her bed to slip on her black velvet pumps, when Fred walked by the open door, Kayla hurrying behind.
"Give it back, Fred!"
Fred held a pad of paper over his head with one hand and the phone at his ear with the other.
Cheyenne tossed her shoes aside, came up behind Fred, and grabbed Kayla's notebook from him. "Quit being a little bitch!"
"Thanks," Kayla said when she took her notebook off Cheyenne's hands.
Fred brought the phone to his lips. "My sisters are picking on me," he said. He waited for a response and nodded. Then, "Tom says you two should leave me alone."
Cheyenne rolled her eyes and snatched the phone out of Fred's hands.
"Tom?" Cheyenne said.
"Did you really say that?"
He laughed. "No."
"I didn't think so." Cheyenne gave the phone back. "Now go away, Fred. I have to get ready."
Kayla came into Cheyenne's room and flopped down on the bed, her Blond hair sliding along her bare shoulders. "Where are you going?"
"None of your business."
Cheyenne sat down next to her friend and slipped on the heels. "I'm going out."
Kayla raised a brow. "With who?"
Cheyenne looked from Kayla to Fred, both of whom were staring at her expectantly.
"With a friend." Cheyenne said, checking her reflection in the mirror of her vanity.
She sighed to herself. This was the reason why getting involved with musicians was a bad idea. Eric and she just weren't a good fit. He probably needed someone who could out drink him and give him a lap dance.
And here she was, little ol' Cheyenne, tattoo artist, shower singer, going out with the blond god of Cinderella.
It was so ridiculous.
But Eric asked her out, after all, and she had promised her friends that she'd give it a try, if only to prove them wrong.
So the plan was, hang out with Eric, get to know him and then move on when Cheyenne had all the reasons they were wrong for each other lined up in a neat row to present to Kayla.
Because they were wrong for each other even if Eric had a face that made girls weep. Cheyenne knew what kind of guy she needed; she needed someone she could get along with and carry on a conversation with.
A hostess met Cheyenne and Eric at the front entrance of Bershetti's when they arrived.
"A table for two?"
The hostess grabbed two menus and led them away from the podium. Cheyenne walked alongside the hostess while Eric brought up the rear.
The hostess leaned over to whisper in Cheyenne's ear as they wound through the restaurant tables. "The guy you're with is really hot."
Cheyenne nodded. "He is, isn't he?"
They both shot a glance over their shoulder at him. Whereas the other night he'd been in his usual stage attire- a slashed red t-shirt that had Sex Machine written on the front with black paint and a pair of leather pants- tonight he was in a pair of black tight-fitting jeans and an almost transparent button-up shirt, all five buttons were undone to reveal his beautifully sculpted chest. Several silver necklaces clicked against each other as he walked. His long, straight, blond hair layed against his chest.
The hostess sat Cheyenne and Eric in a booth in the back of the restaurant. They ordered waters and pasta dishes; Eric ordered the spaghetti, Cheyenne ordered the Italian Chicken Couscous.
Surprisingly, the conversation came easily and soon their meals arrived. The conversation continued over eating and somehow got onto the topic of Eric's love of music and his hobby of writing it himself.
"You have to show me some songs you wrote." Cheyenne said.
Eric blushed and hung his head. "I told you i was a closet writer and for a good reason. and plus, Tom would never agree to play one of my songs."
"Fine," Cheyenne teased. "But maybe someday?"
They finished their meal and Cheyenne excused herself to use the restroom. Finding it empty, she stole a minute to reapply her lipstick.
She flipped her purse open and dug inside for her tube of wine red lipstick.
She heard the sound of crackling paper. That's weird, she thought, she just cleaned out her purse last night, there shouldn't be a receipt in their.
She unfolded the piece of notebook paper. She looked down at the scribbles on the page: Don't tell boy toy that you eat crayons, he might think your weerd.
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. Fred was such an idiot. At the bottom of the page was another note, with almost perfect handwriting compared to the first note, it said: Be yourself and Eric will fall for you. He won't be able to help himself. And if he doesn't see how great you are, Fred and I will beat him up. Just say the words, Red.
Cheyenne smiled as she put the page back into her purse and left the restroom.
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