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Seven twenty-two p.m.

“Going late to your first ever date is not the way to do things, Taylor,” I tell myself as pack my hair in a loose ponytail style and apply nude lip gloss on my lips.

I groan in frustration as I look around the bed for the paper Rory had written the direction earlier and I don’t find it. This shouldn’t be happening today, not today. I search around more carefully and went over to the make-up table and find it there.

Sighing in relief, I clutch to the paper and put on my shoes. I glance, which is now seven-thirty, and I give the...