Samantha felt someone shaking her. Was it time to get up already? It seemed like she had just gone to bed a few minutes ago, after that awful scene last night with Joseph's dad. Why did Mr. Pryde have to be so mean? She and Joseph hadn't done anything wrong; they only kissed once in the snow and then once at the doorway before they were interrupted by that fat girl. What was her name? It started with a 'P': Paula, Pauline, Patty, Patricia, Polly, Penelope…
"Wake up Sleeping Beauty," Joseph whispered into her ear. "It's time to get up. We have a lot to do today."
Samantha opened her eyes and turned to Joseph. He looked different. His beard had grown bushier and his muscles looked thicker, like a wrestler or boxer. She would love for him to take off his shirt so she could rub down those huge muscles with some baby oil until his whole body shone. "Hi there, handsome," she said. "What time is it?"
"Almost nine o'clock. I thought you'd sleep the day away."
"I had a long night." She sat up in bed and pulled back the covers. Right away she noticed the clothes Joseph had bought her yesterday didn't fit as they had when she went to bed. The shirt had become tight around her breasts while the jeans fit more loosely around her waist. She looked down at her hands; the skin on the back was now a very light tan, as though she'd spent a few hours in the sun.
She jumped off the bed to hurry over to the mirror, sighing with relief when she saw no pimples on her face. She squinted into the mirror to find a faint line of freckles along the bridge of her nose between eyes that had turned from brown to dark blue. A tress of honey-brown hair fell across her face; she pushed it back to find it extended now to her waist. "Do you still think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"How can you even ask that? Of course I do," Joseph said. He stood next to her in the mirror, smiling to reassure her. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world."
"No I'm not. There are lots of pretty girls out there."
"Not to me there aren't." He kissed her on the cheek and then whispered, "Come on, let's get out of here."
"Won't your dad be mad? He said not to take the car."
"Don't worry about him. I've taken care of it."
"Well, in that case let's go," she said. She returned his kiss on the cheek, trying to find a spot not covered in hair. He really should shave that before they went anywhere. It's so scratchy when we kiss, like kissing someone with a sandpaper face, she thought. "While I get ready, you think you could do something with this?" she asked, rubbing his beard.