Hey, Paida!" Tariro leaned over the divider separating our desks, a sly grin on her face. "How was Monday? Did you survive delivering that car?"
I slumped into my chair, rolling my eyes. "Barely. But I met Mr. Dibakwane."
Tariro blinked. "Mr…?"
"You know," I said, trying to sound casual. "Late twenties, cute… and then there's his friend. Tall, dark, and handsome. Definitely the type that makes you rethink your life choices."
Tariro laughed, practically spilling her coffee. "Of course. Only you would get interesting clients."
"I swear, it was like stepping into a different world," I added, shaking my head. "Designer baddies everywhere, fancy houses… and the car? Barely survived the traffic, but at least he paid for my ride home."
Tariro smirked. "Sounds like someone's still thinking about it."
I waved her off. "I'm not. Maybe a little… but it's not like it matters."
I raise an eyebrow. "This should be interesting."
"Friday night," she says dramatically. "We're going out."
I blink. "Out where?"
"Party."
I immediately shake my head.
"You know my family would never allow that."
I come from one of those middle-class families where rules are practically a religion. Respect your elders. Come home early. Don't embarrass the family. Don't do anything that would make the neighbors talk.
Parties definitely fall into the neighbors will talk category.
Tariro waves a hand dismissively.
"You're twenty-four, Paida. Not fourteen."
"That doesn't change my parents," I say.
She studies me for a moment before sighing dramatically.
"You know what your real problem is?"
I narrow my eyes. "I'm not sure I like where this is going."
"You're too careful," she says. "You work, you go home, you follow rules… no wonder your love life is a disaster."
"Hey," I protest. "My love life is not a disaster."
Tariro just raises one eyebrow.
I sigh.
"Okay," I admit. "Maybe it's a small disaster."
She smiles like she just won an argument.
"Exactly. Which is why you're coming out with me on Friday."
I hesitate.
"What kind of party are we talking about?" I ask carefully.
Her grin widens.
"The fun kind."
"That tells me absolutely nothing."
"It's a house party somewhere in Borrowdale," she says. "Music. Drinks. People actually enjoying life."
I'm still not convinced.
Then she delivers the final instruction.
"And I want you to wear the sexiest dress you own."
I nearly choke.
"The what?"
"The sexiest one," she repeats, completely serious. "It's time you stopped hiding behind those boring office clothes."
I look down at myself, smoothing the fabric of my pinstriped, chocolate-brown pinafore dress. It was the definition of "respectable" the hemline reached well past my knees, and the high-neck cut was layered over a crisp, button-up white shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled to my elbows.
The silhouette was tailored and elegant, cinched at the waist to hint at a figure I usually kept under wraps, but the lanyard hanging around my neck and the classic black pointed heels screamed "corporate responsibility." It was an outfit designed to blend into an office or a church pew, not to stand out under the neon lights of a dance floor.
I shake my head, laughing despite myself.
"This is a terrible idea."
Tariro points at me.
"But you're thinking about it."
I open my mouth to argue… but no words come out.
And that alone is dangerous.
Because for the first time in a long time…
Friday night actually sounds interesting.