“I’m sorry, but this is amazing,” my bestie whisper-giggles, wiping tears from her eyes.
I take a deep breath, count to three, and pray that miraculously, I can survive this day without dying of humiliation.
I tiptoe toward the door and take one last deep breath. Turn the knob and peek my nose through the slightest crack.
“Yes?”Um.“Hello, sir. May I help you?”
WHY ARE YOU HERE?
Easton gazes back at me, gawking. “What is going on?” He tries to look over my head and into my bedroom. “Did I interrupt something?”
Yes.
He one thousand percent interrupted my dignity.
Easton continues to squint at me, gaze roaming from my faceto my hoodie to my skirt, bouncing around like a pinball. Homes in on the sparkles of my bottom half.
“Are you wearing a dress?”
Technically I am wearingTHEdress, but he doesn’t have to know that.
“Yes. I was cleaning out my closet.”
“Oh. Well. I came back ’cause I wanted talk to you about before.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall adjacent to my room.
“Before?”Just go away so I can put my clothes back on!
“At the rink.” He looks bashful and self-conscious.
I nod robotically. “ ’Kay. Give me a second. I, uh—have to change.”
“Want me to wait downstairs?”
YES! Obviously!
“Please. Give me, like, five minutes.” Or ten. “Ask my dad how to get into the garage. Be right there.”
If I can get this dress off without tearing it or splitting a seam.
Easton gives me one last assessing glance before ambling back down the hallway from whence he came, eliciting a loud sigh from the place where my phone is propped.
Shit.
Macy is still listening.
“Wow,” she breathes. “You dodged a bullet.”
I sigh, gingerly attempting to pull the sweatshirt back over my head, doing my best not to snag any sequins.
Macy flops onto her bed, crossing her legs, also still in her prom dress. The layers of fabric puff around her as she props her chin in her hand, eyes twinkling with amusement.
“I knew it,”she crows, raising an eyebrow at me. “He’s totallyinto you. Harp, heshowed upat your house. That boy is waving a green flag. It’s so cute that he regrets being a dumbass.”
I’m too nervous to laugh.
With my friend watching, I delicately pull the hoodie off. The dress. Saunter to my closet and pull out a fresh T-shirt—one that fits—and black bike shorts.
“You’re so adorable when you’re flustered,” Macy teases.
