I send back the smiley face emoji. And now I can spend the next couple hours shopping online for an outfit. Not much I like more in the world than online shopping. But, I can admit that Walker certainly is moving up the list.
When an hour passes and I haven’t found anything to fall in love with at any of my favorite online boutiques, I shut the computer. I could use a day of shopping that isn’t for work clothes. And while I’m not the kind of girl who will use any excuse to hit the mall or the women’s shops downtown, I think a party with a new guy at his sister’s house requires a new outfit, something that will spark confidence.
I have other friends I could call for shopping, but Maisie is my go-to for all things fashion. She has a good eye and a good sense of what looks good. I always tell her that she should be one of those professional stylists, but she says she’s happy just picking out stuff for me and her other friends. If not for her, I wouldn’t have near the assortment of options in my closet.
She picks up after the first ring. “Hey, girl.”
She’s outgoing and funny, never just sayshellowhen I call. “Hey. I have a date for a Fourth of July party, and I need something to wear that is fabulous. Wanna head out to the mall?”
It was dumb to tell her about the date. Now there’s going to be questions. Things I might not want to answer. Feelings things. But the fact is, I need her help and if the price of her help is being forced to tell her about Walker then maybe she can help me sort it all out.
She squeals like I didn’t just have a boyfriend and before Walker I was about to become a crazy cat lady. “Belle, that’s great!” And when I think she’s going to press me for answers, she says, “What’s the dress code? Are we looking for casual or dressy or pool side appropriate?”
I shrug like she can see me then chuckle because she can’t. “I don’t know. He just said barbecue.”
“Mm-hmm.” And her mind is already at work. “Let’s try Diva Diane’s in the mall. And Rouge, and…” She’s snapping her fingers. “What’s that place where we found the dress for Shell Caruthers’s baby shower?”
“Mixon’s.”
“Oh yeah.” And she draws it out. “I’ll meet you there.” ANd she hangs up. It’s part of what I love about Maisie. She’s determined and when she has a project–today I’m her project–she goes in at a hundred percent and amps up to one-ten in no time.
So I’m not surprised when she beats me to the store and has an armful of clothes and a dressing room reserved for me. By the tenth dress that looks better on the hanger, she smiles. “You’ve got long, so sexy legs.” I’d flush, but after all this trying on and not working out, I’m frustrated.
“Your point?”Because I don’t get it.
“My point is, maybe we should go with shorts.” She puts the last dress on the return rack and links her arm with mine.
It’s two stores later that she looks at me because I’ve snapped something about this being useless. I mean the trip and my body style and the fact that shorts these days are all either too dressy or too distressed for a backyard barbecue. At least, I’m assuming backyard and not public park, but again, I should’ve asked.
“Belle, is there something you need to discuss?” She’s holding a ruffled strap tank top in soft blue cotton with tiny red flowers on it. “Because you snap at me one more time, I might have to put you in the corner.”
“Nobody puts baby in the corner.” But I smile. There’s no limit to the number of times we’ve had this conversation in some form or other. Sometimes it’s her threatening me, others it’s me threatening her. But it’s always good-natured enough to snap the other out of her funk.
Plus,she’s right. I do need to tell her, to tell someone, anyway. I blow out a loud breath and look everywhere but at her–ceiling, flor, ceiling again, far wall, at the couple who’ve just passed by the dressing rooms probably looking for a spot to get frisky. “I slept with Walker.”
I speak softly, but her head jerks up like I’ve just shouted the words at a volume guaranteed to turn heads. “Hot bar guy?”
Yeah. And it isn’t that we haven’t talked about him before. It’s that I haven’t expressed this kind of interest in him to her. But I nod and chew the corner of my lower lip.
“You slept with hot bar guy. Huh. I’ll be damned.”She shakes her head and leans in. “Was he… good?”
I might as well tell her all of it or we’ll never get past it. I nod. “So good.”
She nods her smile wide and smug. “I knew he would be.”I take the shirt she thrusts into my hand and she follows me into the dressing room.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve seen your tits before. Just tell me about the night with hot bar guy.” She sits on the bench and takes my t-shirt when I strip it off. “Is he… proportionate?”
No way in hell I’m answering that. “I’m surprised with as drunk as you were that you remember anything at all about that night.” I slip the top over my head and adjust my bra straps so they can’t be seen under the wide ruffled straps. I hate visible bra straps. I do without one if the shirt demands it.
Maisie laughs. “How could I forget a kiss I wasn’t a part of that was so hot it mademypanties wet.” She shakes her head.
“It was a pretty great kiss.” And the sex was evenly matched.
“And you like him?” She cocked a brow at me as she pulled the hem of my shirt down from behind me.
I huff it a long breath. This is a question I’ve thrown around with a bit. Of course I like him. The question is actuallyhow much. “Yeah.” Off nothing else he’s a good distraction from my recent dating misery. And as soon as I finish the thought I regret it. He’s more than a distraction. Much better than that.
