Happy Halloween! I hope you all have had a safe and silly time (: I sure have, although I didn't do anything special this year. Just relaxed at home with family. It was very much needed.

Now, let's do this thingy! I can't wait to hear what you guys think of how the continuation is going (:

DISCLAIMER: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta: Fran

2018

I'm having a mini anxiety attack when my phone chirps, notifying me of an incoming text. Scrambling across my bed, I snatch it up quickly in case it's Edward.

He could still cancel.

He could change venues.

He could be flirting.

The possibilities are endless.

I can't help but scowl when I realize the text isn't from Edward, but from Alice. "What do you want?" I murmur grumpily to myself as I unlock my phone. Her text glares back at me, giving me the answer to the rhetorical question I voiced:

What are you wearing?

Chewing my lip, I glance down at myself and type back a very literal response:

Pajamas.

And then, chuckling myself, I add:

Want a picture?

Onscreen, the little dots appear and disappear several times, indicating that she is typing her response, before her reply comes through:

Yes.

Rolling my eyes, I shoot her a gif of Lucy sticking her tongue out before sliding off the bed. Standing alongside it, I peer down at the cause of my mini anxiety attack – the mess. Clothes are strewn about haphazardly in various states of crumpled and inside-out. It's as if my closet projectile vomited all of my clothes onto the bed.

A quick glance back at it confirms this.

Clearly, I have no fucking clue what to wear. I have plenty of shit. One might argue that I have too much shit. But, every time I put something on, I manage to find fault in it.

I think this is the girliest I have ever felt in my entire life.

Clenching my teeth in frustration, I navigate to my phone contacts, tap Angela's name, and breathe deeply as it rings. She's my voice of reason. She'll know what to wear.

"Help." I breathe as soon as she answers. "I have no fucking clue what to wear tonight."

"Jesus, do I need to wipe your ass for you, too?" Angela replies humorlessly. "You're going to a bar. Show some leg. Show some tit. Slap some makeup on and mess up your hair. You could probably wear a paper bag with a V-neck cut into it, and guys would still follow your ass around all night."

"I thought the rule was to cover the legs if you're showing boobs and vice versa?" I reply pathetically.

"Hell no! Are you a prude? Do you want to fuck him or are you having an informal parent-teacher conference at a fucking club? Show both. In fact, don't wear anything! That'll definitely get him going."

"Okay – the T and A must be on display. Anything else?"

"Lipstick. You have a fabulous pout. Show it off, girl! Make him think about those lips wrapped around a certain part of him. Draw his eyes there on purpose. Drink from straws all night!"

"Noted," I laugh, mentally conjuring the image of myself looking sultry as I sip my drink through one of those skinny, red cocktail straws. Definitely irresistible. "I don't know why I never thought of that..." I murmur thoughtfully.

"Because you're a dork with no game," Angela replies matter-of-factly.

I scowl and cross my free arm over my chest. "I'll have you know, I've had plenty of dates."

"Yeah," Angela laughs. "And how many have led to second, third, fourth, and fifth dates?"

"Point made." I pout.

"I'm not trying to hurt you." Angela sighs. "I'm trying to help you. This guy is your ideal ... your holy grail! Fucking this up is not an option."

"It's inevitable, though." I groan, sitting heavily on my clothes-filled bed. "I'm fucking hopeless. I suck at dating. I suck at flirting. And I haven't had sex in, like, five years, so I probably suck at that now, too!"

"Shut up!" Angela snaps. "You don't suck. You're an awesome, amazing person with a refreshingly quirky personality. He's going to think you're a fucking treat. And if he doesn't, fuck him! No – Literally, fuck him. Like, if things start going south while you're trying to make a meaningful, romantic connection, switch to an overtly sexual approach so at least you'll have that to remember."

"You think he'd go for that?" I ask in a small voice. I can't help but feel self-conscious when thinking about my potential Plan B. The possibility of seducing a former pop star is daunting.

"Did he give you his number?" Angela asks exasperatedly.

"Yeah?" I reply, unsure.

"Then he'll definitely go for that. Guys don't go around giving their numbers to girls they don't want to fuck. Unless, like, it's a family member or a coworker. But even then, some guys are into that shit."

"Ew!" I cry, laughing in spite of the disgust her words inspire in me. "I don't want to think about that."

"It's true," she sings playfully.

"Ugh, you're gross." I laugh, lying back on my bed. Breathing deeply, I relax into the mattress. "Thank you," I murmur after a moment. "I was really getting worked up over this."

"You're welcome." Angela chirps cheerily. "Now, I'm going to hang up with you so you can clean that mess off your bed and start getting ready. Remember, how are the T and A?"

"They're on display!" I shout back, picturing teenage versions of us jumping on Angela's bed while chanting that.

"Good." Angela murmurs. "You're going to kill it."

"I am," I reply, spreading my arms out wide and pulling mounds of garments toward my face. I can't help the giddy laugh that escapes my mouth as I bury my face in clothes.

It's happening.

I'm finally going to fulfill my dreams.

I'm finally going to live out that kiss fantasy.

Sitting up sharply, I murmur to myself excitedly, "I know exactly what to wear."

-infatuation-

"Holy shit!" Alice exclaims, dropping her bag to the floor as she catches sight of me. "You look ... incredible, Bella! I don't think I've ever seen you look this hot."

"Why, thank you!" I grin indulgently, dropping into an odd curtsey in response to her compliments.

"And now you've totally ruined it." Alice murmurs, eyes rolling in exasperation at my eccentric behavior. "Please don't do that when we get to the bar, weirdo. You're going to destroy whatever illusions he might have about you."

"Noted." I laugh, straightening and dropping my hands to smooth the skirt of my skimpy dress.

"You know, I've always wondered why you don't have a boyfriend." Alice continues, stepping into my apartment and stooping to pick up her purse.

"And now you know why?" I ask, readying myself for another roast.

"No," She smiles. "Now I'm even more confused. Your dorkiness is adorable. Combined with your good looks, you're a total catch!"

"If only guys actually thought like that." I murmur pathetically, thinking about the number of failed dates I've had over past 5 years. The amount, as unspeakable as it is, sucks all of the confidence out of me.

"Oh no," Alice whispers in alarm. "No, we can't go out like this. Not with you all mopey."

"Why not?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm fine. I'm not mopey, see, look, I'm smiling!" I force a smile, waving my fingers on either side of my face as emphasis.

"No, you're not. But I have just the thing to help you."

Fishing around in her giant bag, Alice grins in delight as she produces a large, clear bottle from inside. The shape and brand are unmistakable.

"Tequila?" I ask uncertainly.

"Tequila" She repeats, smiling wide – menacingly.

Jesus, take the wheel.

Oh boy. I think just about everyone has a nightmare drinking story where Tequila was to blame. Personally, I love drinking Tequila. Especially in Margaritas. So yummy!

How do we think this is going to go? Will it be a thing of nightmares for B? Or will it go off swimmingly?

Thank you so much for reading! I'll be responding to reviews later on this week (:

xo

j