"Which one?"

"The blue," she mumbles under her lose as she carelessly flips a page of her favourite magazine. Her curly blonde hair shines in the sunlight as she focuses on the article she is busy reading. Somewhere between "top 10 best muffin receipts" and "butt shaping for beginners", she looks up at me. There is a small line appearing between her carefully picked eyebrows, which reminds me of the fact that this is probably the third time we are having this discussion.

Today, of course.

"Not too-"

"No," Riley says with such confidence she almost makes me believe her. I tend to listen to my anxiety ten times easier than anyone else's opinion, which she is well aware of, so she takes a deep breath and without giving me a second to start hesitating, she continues. "You walk on the fine line between cute and nice and a sexy kitten. Perfect."

I take in all the two dresses I am currently holding in my hand and then I land on the blue one. It is barely shorter but still shorter than what fits in my comfort zone. The material is soft and silky, feels nice touching my skin and I do believe coral blue would bring out my eyes and would match perfectly with my natural red hair.

My blonde friend sits up from her laying position and presents me with a cheeky grin. "Relax, Bunny. It's just a date. I know you are nervous a bit, everyone would be, but it's nothing we haven't gone through before."

"Yeah, but I don't know him," I explained in a rushed tone. She is such a daring persona, I know she has had several blind dates, but I hardly ever met anyone I never met before. "And—I don't know—"

She does not let me finish, "There's way too much 'don't know' in that sentence. Haven't you learned before that even if you don't know something, it might turn out good? Look at the bright side, would you? It's just a date, after all."

I nod. I know.

It is indeed just a date with a total stranger, someone I have never met before, so therefore there is nothing I should be stressing about. Still, however, the thought of meeting new people makes me feel anxious.

"Plus, let's not forget, my girlfriend does know him. She says he is fine. You know I would never let you date another asshole, right?" She waits for my motion of agreement and then continues, "Then stop worrying about it. You act like you've never had dates before. I know for sure it is not true."

I am not exactly lacking of experience. I have had a few nice dates every now and then, even I had my fair share of boyfriends, but in twenty-six years I feel like I haven't managed to find what I am truly wishing for.

In my point of view, I would rather be alone than to be with someone I am convinced I cannot be completely committed to. I tried before, to date without actually listening to my instincts, and there has always been a pang in my chest I cannot explain. Call me way too romantic or just simply weird, I want to have the fire of fresh young love and the embrace and support of an old soul. Something in-between.

My mother, with the support of almost the whole family, says that I am too picky and there is no way I am going to find someone without giving them a proper try. No matter how many times I have explained myself, she does not accept my excuses. She indicates that the problem must be with me and that I am busy searching for a treasure only existing in movies and lame chick-flicks.

"I met your father when I was sixteen," she keeps on reminding me, in a voice I cannot tolerate. She is so know-it-all, does not allow anyone to have their own independent opinions when hers is much, much better. "We went to the same school. Boom. Love at first sight. There was nothing to discuss, we were mean to be. What if I said no to him? I wouldn't have your brothers; I wouldn't have you. God knows it had to happen that way and I never wished to interfere with the Lord's plans."

I hope I will live the day when someone explains to her that we no longer live in the early seventies and this time around nobody marries at the age of seventeen without accidental pregnancy involved. Deep down, I am aware of the fact that she means good in her own way. It is just hard to process when she is so pushy.

At the very least my father is much nicer; he is silent and supports most of my decisions as long as it makes me happy. He is good to have around, a strong male figure with a loving, tender heart, even though I only see them on the weekends, given the fact that I work full time and usually there is work yet to be done by the end of the day.

I have to admit, most of the time I do not mind.

When I am busy, I almost never notice how awfully empty the bed is next to me and that my roommate, who is also best friend, is never home. Usually, with the exception of Monday and Thursday, Riley is off doing funny things with her girlfriend, Emily, who is a complete sweetheart. They are perfect together, the Ying and Yang. Riley is usually the voice of the reason, but easy to anger and her sarcastic tendencies makes it hard for her to have more than one friend. While Emily is a true dreamer, never truly on the ground and she always tries to see the good even in the worst type of people and she seems to be generally liked by everyone she gets into a conversation with. I am a hetero, yet I do understand why Riley fell for her and this is the first longer period in ten years that I see her balanced.

Even though I never voiced my point of view out loud, and most likely never will, I am indeed very jealous of their happiness. I envy what they feel, all the butterflies and pink clouded stairway they are riding on. I am no way proud of myself for it, but this is how I feel. I am glad she found her partner, I just wish I had someone next to me as well.

Riley always says that before you find yourself, what are your do's and don'ts, you shouldn't get too deep in. Most likely, you would just hurt the other or reversed. I am convinced she knows what she wants, but I cannot certainly say it about myself. She says I shouldn't get all worked up about something I have no control of, but this is who I am.

The fact that bugs me is that I was in a similar state when I was sixteen and now, ten years later, I don't think it has changed, at all. I am working on not overthinking stuff, but with anxiety bugging me almost all night, it is hard not to.

I am not snapped out of my thoughts until Riley stands up from the bed, moves towards me, on her face an expression I know too damn well. She is about to tell me to grown up and take things as they come.

"Aurora," she breathes dangerously low.

Back when we were teenagers, I made her promise not to call me on my real name. I am no way a Sleeping Beauty and everyone calls me Bunny.

I do not exactly remember who gave me the nickname, but I do remember having weirdly-shaped teeth before my parents got them fixed on the summer before I started high school. It sorts of stuck on me and I gladly accepted as I am in no way fond of Aurora.

That is why I know that when someone does say it, I am about to get a head wash.

To my greatest surprise, she just shrugs and point to the dress.

"I can't understand what you are going through," she says after a couple of pregnant silence. "I do not know anxiety, I never had it and I hope I never will. I have been in a bad place before and you know that, but I got through that and I wish I could drag you with me. Sometimes, you could just-I don't know, take a shot and forget about it. Let yourself live a bit, because these are the years you should cherish later on and I am seriously worried about you."

She knows I cannot just forget about it. It is with me, from the second I open my eyes till the moment my mind drifts away to confusing dreams. Slowly and steadily, I learned to control it, but every now and then it comes back and brings all the fears and questions I do not want to dwell on. I do, every time, with a sour taste in my mouth and thundering of heartbeats.

"It is just a date, after all," she adds kindly. "A date you do not have to go on to, if you really don't want to. If you never test the waters, you will never know, that's true, but in the end the only thing matters is to do whatever is good for you."

Riley touches my shoulder in a light manner and what her eyes say at the moments brings me out of the haze. They are emerald green under long blonde eyelashes and are pleading me to get my shit together.

For a moment, I feel sorry that a person like her, always on her feet and never afraid of anything, has chosen a friend like me. She explained to me that she would not accept anyone else around her but me, but like all the time, I listen to her and then question her words in my head.

She is very good with words; I give her that. No wonders, though, her family is full of highly valued lawyers and she is on the way to become just as good as them. Currently, she is working by Stark Industries, led by Pepper Potts, and she is doing an outstanding job. She knows people from high places. Hell, even Tony Stark wanted to hire her to defend him back then, but due to the fact that even though she graduated four years sooner than she was supposed to, she did not think the Government would give a twenty-four-year-old any credit. I don't think she decided right back then, but now, that insecurities are no longer clouding her judgement, she is willing to go into much wider waters. She is brave and she embraced her confidence like a true professional.

There are times when she even managed to convince me to do something I have never even given a thought about. I am so proud.

Anxious. Full of fears. But proud.

I give her another nod, this time with more confidence. Riley is not as sensitive as I am, she has hard time understanding how someone is capable of struggling and questioning herself all the time she is about to head into different areas.

"Give yourself some credit please," she breathes soothingly as she wraps her arms around me in a warm hug. "You finished university Summa Cum Laude and for the fuck's sake, I am pretty sure you were the hottest in your year. You could've gotten anyone, but of course, you had to choose an asshole of a boyfriend."

I groan and I try to get out of her grasp.

We decided on not to talk about Pete, in any circumstance. Of course, she knows about her mistakes, but still pushes my boundaries. She says and does what she thinks is best, even if I do not agree with her ways of approaching my situations.

"Now, however, you have moved on and I do not think we should be handling the subject of your ex as if he was minimum You-Know-Who."

I understand the reference and even if I am a little bit frustrated now, I still allow a smile on my lips. She pinches my cheeks in return.

I mumble under my nose. "His name is Voldemort."

"And he is completely imaginary," she chuckles as my eyes roll back to my skull. "Get your shit together. This is the real world. You're a grownup woman and you need sex. No, I'm not talking about your vibrator. You need a huge flesh."

Says the lesbian. She has never even seen a flesh before.

I grin at the thought, but I refuse to comment on where our talk is heading to. Somehow, for me, Lord Voldemort and sex can no way fit in the same conversation.

I reply matter-of-factly. "Define real."

A real world where Gods like Thor are walking among us. A world where superheroes do exist, even if witches and wizards are not. It does not seem that bad, though, if we are willing to overlook the danger they are carrying with them.

"Anyway," she grins and considers the conversation finished as she pushes me through the way of our shared bathroom, "you have an hour to get ready and that hair needs to be washed. I will put some makeup on you, but don't expect me to do wonders if you are not completely prepared for it." She surprises me with a big fake groan. "I planned to visit my bestie's room to chill, but I swear I couldn't read a word. Your brain was working so loud. So, in return for my nice behaviour, you might do my laundry tomorrow."

I raise my eyebrow at her, "I always do your laundry."

"I am a busy lawyer and just saying, one or two occasion a month does not count as 'always'." She says the whole sentence without actually taking a breath. She scares me sometimes. "Oh and if after the shower I still here complains, we're going to switch. You do my fucked up lawsuit, I go on a date."

"But you have a girlfriend."

"Yes, I do and she happens to be here by six, so would you please move your sorry ass and take a shower? I plan to get some work done and I also need to get laid. Haven't done either, yet."

I make a gagging noise and an act of trying to show my finger down my throat, but Riley clearly does not care and pushes me for about a meter away from the bathroom door to closes it behind me with a harsh thud. "I expect to hear the water running, dude. No more questions, no more anxiety. I will wait for you with a few shots, specifically just for you."

I silently accept my fate and start to get my clothes off. By the time I get to the shower cabin, I no longer feel like this date is going to be a horror story I will tell my kids about. Maybe Riley is right and I do need this to forget overthinking.

Oh, let's not forget to mention, I am not the only person drinking a shot after I finish. Riley drinks three and I have a feeling the only work she is going to get done only involves her girlfriend. I do not mind, she deserves a break.

Her smug grin just confirms my idea.

I stare at myself in the mirror, lightheaded and giddy by the time the tequila I have been drinking begins to show its effect. I decide on sneakers by the dress, no matter how Riley insists it is supposed to be wore with high heels. This way, I still carry a peace of my comfort zone and it soothes my inner demons. This is Bunny Evans.

There are plenty of men in the word. If he does not like me without heels, he will most likely never see me without clothes on.

I push a strand of auburn hair out of my face and I give a nod to the woman looking back at me.

This is the confidence I am supposed to have when my mind is not controlled by any beverage.

I no longer think of these things as I head out the door and watch Riley waving at me from the balcony.

I grow up in Washington DC.

I rarely took trips outside of the state, but I know every bit of Washington.

I have no doubt on where I am going, so I guess letting out stress by pressing my phone is just as fine as if I was chewing my nails off.

I know people are staring at me as I walk past them, laying their hungry or judging eyes on my skirt that shows way too much of my thighs. Stubborn enough not to ruin my night with worrying about nothing in particular, I try my best not to concentrate on it.

I do not even look up until I reach my destination.

Raven, it is called.

It's a cosy, small bar. Not too fancy for my taste and I have to admit, the warm lights coming out are indeed very inviting.

Everything is elegant, from the wooden seats to a huge marble counter, yet it has the feeling of a bar. I feel less pressured that I had a say in choosing the location. I do not know my partner, but I often come here and that has to be enough to my mind to stop analysing every possible outcome of the night.

If this does not go alright, I could still order a few drinks and have some fun by the billiard.

Not in this skirt, though.

I let out a short chuckle, more or less entertained by my tipsy thoughts. I do have to admit I like myself better when boozed. I tend to be funny, I just wish it could go as smoothly as it is when I am drunk.

I get settled by the counter, greeting the bartender with a wave.

"Hey, Bunny," he greets me happily.

Music surrounds me, I feel the vibration all over my skin.

"Hi, Nicholas."

Thankfully, it is not enough to distract me from the conversation. I can fully participate, hearing his voice just fine.

"The usual?"

"Oh—yeah."

No more questions asked, he starts preparing my favourite drink, but does not forget to keep me entertained. When he is finished, he puts an extra cocktail cherry on my Piña Colada and hands me a small umbrella. He knows I always take them off the cocktail, but I like to keep them. They look happy and I appreciate small things.

"Came alone? Where's Riley?"

I hide my grin in the palm of my hand. I pull my glass closer and I take a long, long sip before I decide to answer.

Nicholas started working here about a year ago. Poor guy has always had a huge crush on my best friend, but he is a straight man and for some reason they tend to ignore the fact that lesbian women do not feel attraction to men.

Riley says it boosts her ego that she is indeed attractive to the other gender, but she has more business in between Emily's thighs than she would in between his.

"Date night with her girlfriend," I reply smoothly. Every bit of me wants this conversation to go on, to keep on distracting me. "You know Riley has a lawsuit to deal with now so they decided to stay by our place tonight. Shit ton of research to do and I think Emily needs to be there to remind her to take breaks."

I do not mention the tequila shots we took before. Riley can handle that lawsuit, but I doubt it would do any good to Nicholas's heart-and well, other parts, to think of hot-lesbian-comfort-sex now.
Jesus, maybe I should stop drinking. Even I do not wish to imagine my best friend in situations like that.

While Nick is busy fulfilling his duty of pouring new drinks to incoming guests, I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eyes at the clock, which clearly states eight fifteen. It means my date is almost fifteen minutes late now.

"Uhm, I am supposed to have a date now," I murmur awkwardly, not even intending to inform him, but I need to keep my mouth going. The alcohol in me does its job as well and I wonder if this is a good idea.

Talk. Talk. Talk.

"Is he late?"

I nod.

"Oh, such a loser," he laughs out loud. I know he is not laughing at me in particular, but I wish he would just stop. "Bunny, why the hell you chose a bar for a date, anyway? A princess like you, I'd take to a restaurant. You have no idea what kind of bar dates I've had the pleasure of seeing."

I feel heat creep up on my face.

I might be attractive, but definitely not a princess. This dress has not been one of my brightest decisions, either.

"It's a cool place," I reply, mentally giving me a high five that my voice is not shaking. "I don't know, I don't actually like fancy restaurant dinners. Not my… type."

Nicholas shrugs. "Okay, whatever."

Thirty more minutes and about two more cocktails pass and the thought of going home is more inviting now.

I start to accept the fact that I have been ditched and I simply cannot wait to change into more comfortable clothes. I try my hardest convincing myself that it is not my fault, not at all, but Nicholas's words come back to me in a rush and now I wonder who is the loser.

My stomach turns and turns at the same time my palms start sweating and suddenly I feel really uncomfortable sitting by the counter. I wonder if I should call a taxi, but I decide on going home walking. Maybe if I take a warm summer night stroll, the alcohol in my bloodstream will magically disappear and I will not feel like throwing up anymore.

All this fuzz over nothing. Spending hours to finally settle on a freaking dress for nothing at all. My eyes burn with tears I do not intend to let out. I am too proud and too stubborn to let anyone else other than Nicholas know that I have been dumped. In that fucking dress.

Nicholas gives me a reassuring glance when I wave my hand bye and I turn around, heading directly to the door. However, as I take the sharp turn, my moves freeze and my stomach flips. I feel the urge to throw up and I decide this has not been a good idea, at all.

As I am about to exit, I do not notice a stranger's intention of coming in and our bodies collide with a thud, making me lose my balance.

He is fast to react, reaches for my body and holds me steady as if I was nothing but a doll. A fancily dressed, rather drunk doll.

I wish I could see his face when he speaks up, but my vision is too blurry and I am dangerously close to get more awkward. "Are you okay?"

I register the question and I press out a low 'no' between my teeth before I set everything in my stomach free and throw up at the sole entrance of Raven, straight on the shoes of my newly found stranger.

A minute passes or so when I am finally able to look up again. Then I glance at his shoes, my clothes and then, at his face.

I can only imagine how white I might be at this second.

I see his face now, very clearly, too clearly.

I know that I am covered in sweat and the leftover of my lunch, but I am more concerned over how I am going to tell Riley that even though my date did not go well, did not go at all, I still managed to throw up all over on that Captain Steve Rogers's freaking shoes.

Oh my God, somebody please kill me now.

I just threw up on Captain America.

A/N:

First of all, thank you all for reaching this far. :)
Please note that I am not a native English speaker, therefore grammar mistakes can and might happen. I am currently looking for a beta, but until then, I will try my best.
Also: I do not plan on Bunny being a damsel in distress, but like every woman, she has to come a long way to get confidence.
Btw, Steve is not the guy she was suppose to meet. It was just a moment of sheer dumb luck. (I wish I had luck like that.)

Xx, Nessa.