The next day came, a blessed relief from school on my part and work on Jefferson's. We met, as planned, at my house. I was confused as how to go on from the night before. Who knew such a little kiss could throw me so off-balance! It wasn't like it was my first kiss, but it was ours. I wore the jewelry Jefferson had given me, sort of as a subliminal message that I still thought things were okay, even though I totally blew him off on accident the night before.
We went to the fabric store and bought matching fabrics (a Mr. Men print for Jefferson and a Little Miss print for myself). We didn't have a pattern to go by besides a pair of sobai pants he had brought home from his mission to Thailand. We were relying solely on my skills as a seamstress, and so, needless to say, I grossly overestimated the amount of fabric needed and Jefferson was buying. Just another reason to add to my list for mentally kicking myself, along with blowing off his kiss, and spiralling up straight stairs.
We went home and spent most of the rest of that day working together on the pants, me sewing and Jefferson doing anything he could think of to help, including distracting my numberless concourses of siblings and helping my mother haul in groceries. Finally the pants were complete and, surprisingly, almost perfect! Whew! I had been so worried about screwing it up that I hadn't been much of a very social date.
We posed for some pictures and then went to show his family. They weren't home, so Jefferson took me back to my house and dropped me off. Can you say instant replay of the night before? But this time, I was determined for it to end differently. As I stepped up a step as I did before, and turned to face Jefferson, he came in for a hug, not a "I'm-about-to-kiss-you-again" hug, but a "I-guess-from-last-night-we're-just-friends" hug, when I grabbed his coat collar and let him have it: a big fat smooch!
From that point on it was clear: we were "official"
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