Every young girl has a chip on their shoulder, thinking privacy is a God-given right. Invasion via stepmom is a major violation, anger is self-righteous. How dare you, crystal said to her stepmother when she found her snooping through her bedroom dresser. The one with all of the her things – plastic jewelry, love letters, and for ever – growing collection of bras. The one crystals now deceased mother painted a dusty pale pink color when she was getting the nursery together for crystals arrival-- the same pink of her now retired , stretched out, stained training bras. These bras are never seen by the boys she had slept with, the hooks never loosened by the quick and sweaty hands of immature playboys. Like Dylan who after weeks of being manager at Medusa’s Pizzeria found his way into her white Guess jeans, which she had purchased just for that evening. Before Dylan arrived she helped Evie her roommate get ready for her date , Crystal’s hidden dimples visible die to her inability to hide her shit-eating grin. Teasing emus fair she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror craning her neck for the anticipation of necking with Dylan. Crystal took the wraps Holcomb and rapidly brushed his thin blonde hair into a bouffant, a technique she had practice on a little girl she once babysat. "He's all right?" Asked Evie. Crystal made an enthusiastic “mm-hmm” while shielding Evie’s broad forehand with hand from the clouds of Aquanet she sprayed to hold the hair in place.
After Evie left for her date, the dimples on Crystal space relax as her mouth smoothed into a soft pout. Dylan arrived, he knocked on the door, the sound making her vibrate. The underwire bra she bought this fortnight felt right and tight as if it structured down to the moment, so her heart wouldn't fly out of her chest leaving behind a young beautiful shell. She stood in that small between the front door and the kitchen, that dusty pale pink come over her. She felt soft inside like strawberry frozen yogurt in white paper cup, strawberry flavor spreading over her red wet tongue. Taking a step forward then standing on her tiptoes she looked through the peep hole. She could feel Dylan's cool cerulean blue energy but all she could see was the dark green shrubs surrounding the walkway. He focused squinting her left still nothing. Jolted by the sound of Dylan's pacing steps she looked harder. She could his face, wide and shiny face still handsome and clean looking even with the unflattering widening from the peephole lenses. Before unlocking the door, she could feel something inside of her, something approaching yet ancient , something smooth yet rough, piercing yet welcomed, a tender violation.