A friend who I felt safe enough to be my true self with.
Not the stuffy twenty-four-year-old with pressed Chanel suits in muted colors, but the girl who goes out in comfy T-shirts, ripped jeans, and her emotional support Converses.
So how the hell did I get it so wrong?
How did I let this farce go on for so long?
I splash water across my face, hoping the cold bite will snap me out of my spiraling thoughts, but it’s no use.
Somehow, the dress keeps getting tighter as the day drags on. It becomes harder to breathe, and I find myself clawing at my back, hoping to find the zipper and finally release myself from the cruel confinement.
Only to remember that my mother-in-law chose a dress that has tiny buttons running down the entire back.
I start to panic.
I need to get this dress off.
Right now.
I’m able to loosen two of the buttons near my upper back, but it takes forever, and the thought of wearing the physical reminder of today for another moment is enough to have me bursting out of the bathroom in search of Luke.
He sets my luggage on the kitchen island, his head snapping up. “Daisy, what happened?”
I dart for him. “I’m—the dress. I need it off. I need your help,” I pant.
Luke’s eyes widen as he looks around the room, as if he can call in an assist at a time like this. If I weren’t in the middle of spiraling out of my mind, I might have found it amusing. “Please,” I croak.
My broken voice seems to be the thing that springs Luke into action. He turns me by my shoulders to face away from him. “Careful, you’ve already scratched yourself here, Daze.” He drags his thumb down an exposed piece of skin beneath my dress, and a shiver runs down my spine.
His fingers still momentarily. “I got you. It’s going to be okay.” And then they start to move, methodically releasing each button as his knuckles run down my back.
The panic starts to subside, but now I’m having trouble breathing for a completely different reason.
This can’t honestly be happening right now.
I know it’s been a long time since I’ve been touched by a man and even longer since I’ve been intimate with one, but this is not the time, and he is not the person I should be fantasizing about.
This is Luke.My Luke. And I can’t risk ruining one of the very few real relationships in my life because my body doesn’t know how to control its biological urges.
If Luke doesn’t get me out of this dress in the next five seconds, I fear he’s going to know why a small gasp escapes my lips every few seconds. Or how my shivers have nothing to do with the coolness in the air.
He’s going to sense the illicit thoughts running through my head as his hands tease down my back like a lover’s whisper.
I feel the warming sensation low in my belly and know it won’t be long until there’s physical evidence of my arousal.
“Luke, please. Just—rip it,” I plead.
He speeds up the process, but he continues to remove each button carefully. “We’re halfway there. I’ll be done in no—”
“I’m sorry I’m acting this way. I know you’re trying to help. But you don’t have to be so gentle with me. I’m not going to break. So please, rip—”
“As you wish, Daisy girl,” he drawls in my ear.
The tear and the scattering of buttons is deafening. The dress falls, and as it pools at my feet, my hands automatically raise to my bare chest. I had forgotten that the bra was built into the dress and not on my body.
This is also the moment I realize I am standing in front of Luke wearing nothing but a lacy white thong.
Maybe if I don’t move, I’ll become invisible. Or he’ll take pity on me and find one of the very few doors in this cabin and lock himself in it until I can get my clothes out of my bag and change.
