“Reg! That dress is…” Cindy trails off, trying to find her words, but fails. She is in a blue, floor length dress that has a deep v-neck. She looks stunning in it.
I smooth out the dress once again and turn back to my reflection. “Is it that bad? It looks bad, right?” I ask.
“Regan, it’s fucking perfect. If you don’t buy it, I’ll buy it and force you to wear it,” Cindy says.
A click of a lock gets our attention as Leslie walks out of her own dressing room. She stands next to me in a green, sequin dress with a low back and sleeves that sit on the sides of her shoulders.
“Regan, you are getting this dress. Dean is going to lose his mind when he sees you,” Leslie declares.
Serves him right thinking he could just treat me like a good fuck—although the sex was amazing, and I’ve been using it for inspiration for me and my vibrator. But that is neither here nor there. He made me believe one thing while doing another, and I won’t have my emotions played like that.
“You both look amazing, too. Are you and Chase going together?” I ask Leslie. I’m not sure where they stand since the last time I talked to her. We both spilled—me about Dean, and her about Chase. They are still a bit on again and off again. Leslie shifts on her feet, playing with the skirt of her dress.
“We currently aren’t going together,” she says with a bit of sadness in her brown eyes. She twirls in the mirror, watching the sequins shimmer in the overhead light, the green of the dress complementing her skin tone perfectly.
“That dress will have him begging on his knees for sure,” I tell Les. Cindy agrees as she also nods. Leslie straightens up a bit and flicks her brown hair over her shoulder. I’m glad I can put a bit of pep back in her step, even if I’m still lacking my own.
Fake it till you make it, right?
We all purchase our dresses and head out to the sushi restaurant next door for lunch. We have just ordered our entrees when Leslie’s phone goes off with a text, and she’s smiling at her phone.
“Let me guess, Chase?” I bat my eyelashes at her, and she swats at me.
“So what if it is?” she says, typing out a reply.
“When are y’all going to quit this on again, off again shit? Y’all should be able to figure this out,” I say. Both Leslie and Cindy eyeball me. Oh yeah, I’m the pot calling the kettle black over here. Right.
“We should be saying the same thing about you and Dean,” Cindy remarks.
“It’s different, we’re supposed to hate each other. It’s complicated. You and Chase are at least friends. You won’t even tell us why he doesn’t want to go public.”
Leslie shifts in her chair. “It’s complicated,” she parrots. Cindy and I just raise a brow at her. There has to be more than what she’s telling us.
The topic is dropped as soon as our food arrives. We make plans for getting ready for the gala. We are going to have a makeup and hair artist come to my house so we can all get ready together, and rent a limo to take us there and back. Getting all dressed up is usually not my thing, but being able to get ready and go with my best friends—that’s the part that I’m excited about. We don’t need men to have fun at a fancy event.
It’s the night of the gala, and the girls and I just arrived at the venue, The Queen’s Crown Hotel. Walking along the red carpet that is full of photographers and reporters.
“I didn’t know it would be like this,” Cindy says into my ear as we walk closer to the brick building.
“I should’ve warned you. You’ll be fine, just stick close to me.”
We walk along the carpet together, stopping for photos alongthe way, then continue until we reach the doors that will take us into the main lobby. This is one of the finest hotels in uptown Charlotte, and I can see why as all three of us take in the lavish space. The entry has a grand chandelier and a set of stairs that goes up to the next floor where the ballroom is. Our heels clack loudly on the white marble floor, mouths agape, taking it all in.
“This is beautiful,” I say.
“So are you,” says a deep voice to my left. I turn to see Dean standing in a navy tux, and his hair is, for once, under control. Looks like he even got a haircut. He’s never looked better—except for when he’s on top of me.
A flutter goes off in my stomach as flashes from that night come back to me. I quickly shake it off and notice that Leslie and Cindy have conveniently found something else to look at and left me here alone with Dean. Traitors.
Dean scans my body, taking in my red dress. I purposefully take a single step closer to him so he can take note of the high slit, and I swear his eyes bulge out from his head.
This was definitely the correct dress to wear.
THIRTY-TWO
DEAN
She lookslike a fucking bombshell in that red dress. And that slit comes up so high, she may risk flashing someone.
