Making the Cut by Anne Malcom Page B

on granola, fruit and yoghurt, a bowl for me sat beside her.
    “How was your run?” She asked, between mouthfuls.
    “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I grumbled, plonking myself down beside her.
    She stopped eating, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Spill.”
    And I did just that, yet again replaying the barely believable events of the morning. I finished with the description of Cade on his bike, and Amy stared at me wide eyed.
    “It’s 7 in the morning and that has already happened?” She shook her head. “I’m going to stick to you like white on rice for the rest of the day baby girl, get myself some run ins with sexy males.” She was half serious.
    I laughed, digging into my breakfast. “I don’t even want to think what’s in store for us at this barbeque, I guess it would too much to ask to hope that it is a meeting of kick ass feminists, or wait lesbians?” I asked Amy seriously.
    “Now what would be the fun in that?” Amy replied sagely.
     
    I slid my brownie into the oven, and turned back to see Amy, shamefully licking the bowl.
    “Hey!” I snapped. “Leave some for me!” I advanced on her.
    Amy picked a knife up off the counter and hissed. “You try and eat any of this and I will cut you.”
    I giggled. “You don’t scare me Abrams.”
    Amy pondered for a moment then lowered the knife. “Okay but we have half each.” She decided. I whipped my finger through the remnants of the mixture and brought it to my mouth and groaned. I stepped away.
    “That’s all I need so it’s all yours.” I said while untying my pink polka dotted ruffled apron. “I need to get ready for this barbeque.”
    “Well make sure you dress hot.” Amy commanded to my back as I climbed the stairs. “With your luck the cast of ‘Magic Mike’ will probably be there.”
    I stood in front of my mirror and decided I look pretty good, wearing a white, sleeveless sundress. It clinched in at the waist and flowed down to just above my knee, showing a fair amount of leg. The whole back was sheer down to my waist, forcing me to go braless, not that it mattered with my tiny knockers. My hair was tousled into slight waves tumbling past my shoulders. I decided on light makeup with pale pink lipstick. I finished off my look with a couple of silver bangles and my usual sky high heels, pale pink wedges with crisscross straps snaking up my ankle.
    Amy wolf whistled at me. I smiled at her over my shoulder.
    “Looking good Abrams.”
    Amy looked great, no surprises there. She had on high waisted white short shorts, with a sheer white shirt tucked into them her lace bra is showing in a somewhat tasteful way. A black belt knotted around her waist and she was wearing sky high black heels. Her red hair was up in a messy ponytail and she wore little makeup.
    “I am going to have to fight off the men...and the women.” I decided after looking at her, she laughed rubbing her hands together.
    “Exactly as I planned grasshopper.”
     
    Walking down the driveway towards the back of an old but well restored Victorian, I felt what was akin to butterflies in my stomach. It was an unfamiliar feeling, I usually loved a party of any form, enjoyed meeting new people. But now, anxiety chewed at my gut.
    “Are you sure we shouldn’t knock at the front door?” I asked Amy uncertainly as I shifted my tray full of brownies slightly.
    “No, Rosie said to come straight out back.” She strutted around the corner confidently. I had to jog a little to catch up with her. Rounding the corner, I decided I was definitely nervous. A lot of people were scattered around the vast backyard. Both male and female, mostly around my age but a few older people were mixed in. Amy and I were very overdressed by the looks of it. People were mostly in jean shorts or causal dresses, but not that it mattered I guess, this was me and like Amy said I wasn’t changing for anyone. Most of the looks directed our were curious but friendly, apart from a couple of