“We’re not talking about Ash anymore, are we,” she interrupts.
I don’t answer, and my face burns with shame as I think how I went full stalker with Drew toward the end. I consider myself a relatively stable person, but I still cringe at how I acted.
It wasn’t even that I wanted to be with him by that time. It just enraged me that he’d make plans with me, then come up with some lie toget out of them. I resented that he thought I’d believe the lies, and I was determined to catch him each time, just to show him I wasn’t stupid.
I could’ve let him go if he’d just letmego.
“Put the other dress back on,” Celena says gently.
I look at the pile of clothes sitting next to the laptop on my bed.
“Which other one?” I ask. “I tried on half my closet.”
“The navy blue one,” she says. “You look amazing in navy.”
I fish in the pile and pull out the navy sheath dress she’s talking about. The dress covers me up to the neck, has long sleeves, and goes just past my knees, so on the surface it seems conservative, but like the dress I wore to the club, it fits me like a second skin and shows off my figure.
My body isn’t perfect. I have a few soft spots, and there are parts that are ‘too this’ or ‘not enough that,’ but overall I have a decent figure. Enough that, even with my confidence issues, I can wear a dress like this.
I slip off the red dress, toss it onto the pile, then shimmy the sheath dress up my body. I hear Celena whistle, and I look at her questioningly as I contort myself to pull up the zipper.
“You move like that for him, and the two of you won’t make it to dessert,” she says.
“You’re not helping,” I say.
“I’m your best friend. It’s not my job to help. It’s my job to talk you into buying fun stuff for yourself, urge you to do slightly crazy but not wholly dangerous things, and to be here to pick you up when the men you date inevitably let you down.”
I give her a frustrated look. “How comforting.”
She shrugs. “I don’t make the rules.”
I spin around in the dress. “Does this work?”
“Perfect!”
“Alright, I have to finish getting ready. I’ll text you when I get home.”
“You’ll text me halfway through dinner from the restroom.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
“Have fun!” she says and hangs up the call.
I close the laptop, then work on finishing my look. I add a gold chain around my neck and slip into a pair of gold heels, then get to work on my hair and makeup. I took too long figuring out what to wear, and Ash will be here in twenty minutes.
I shouldn’t be nervous – this isn’t a real date – but there’s a steady tremor in my chest that borders on giddiness.
Actually, fuck that. I have every right to be nervous. Every shade in my house is drawn right now because reporters have been camped out on my front lawn all day. Thankfully I was able to pull right into the garage and close the door on them when I got home.
I’m just barely done getting ready when my phone pings with a text from Ash telling me he just pulled up and is on his way to the front door.
My stomach drops, and I wonder if I have time for a shot of vodka.
No such luck. The doorbell rings, and I grab my clutch and shove my cell phone inside it before opening the front door.
Cameras flash, backlighting the tall figure filling the doorway and making me blink. When I can see again, I find Ash’s eyes traveling back up my body.
“You look incredible,” he breathes, and he sounds sincere.
