You stumble as you hit a crack in the sidewalk and nearly face plant. You luckily catch yourself and look around, feeling your cheeks heat up, stupid heels. You shake your head, before digging your compact out of your purse, checking to make sure you didn’t dislodge any of your carefully placed hair curls. Oh thank God. You sigh in relief as you see you didn’t mess up your hair and replace the compact, would’ve sucked if I did all this just for it to get messed up five minutes before he sees it.
You turn up the driveway and feel a small knot begin to form in your stomach. What if he doesn’t like it? You resist the urge to chew your lip as you climb up the porch steps, don’t think like that. He’s the one who suggested dressing up, remember? You shake your head at yourself as you go to knock, hand pausing in mid-air.
Why are you psyching yourself out? You know you look awesome. Don’t forget what that guy at the bus shelter said. You look smokin’! You swallow down your chuckle at the memory and take a deep breath before knocking.
“I got it!” You hear some rustling and hurried footsteps before the door swings open, revealing the wrong brother.
“Hey, Sam.” You give him a small smile and lean slightly to see around him, “… Is Dean ready?”
Sam gives you a once over, sly smile creeping up his face and he steps aside, “Almost.”
The knot in your stomach grows and you wonder if in your three hour getting ready routine you remembered deodorant. You go to take a step over the lip of the door and nearly face plant again, “Fuck!” You glare at it, “Stupid door.”
Sam catches your hand easily and chuckles, eyes on your shoes, “You sure that was the doors’ fault?”
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