“It’s EXACTLY what it says,” Trey insists.
Ava leans in. “Turn around.”
I turn.
All three gasp dramatically.
Ava says, “The back. The BACK. Ruby.”
Sienna looks shocked. “This is the outfit women wear when they accidentally gain a billionaire boyfriend.”
Trey fans himself. “He’s going to combust.”
I throw my arms up. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU?”
“You’re going to dinner,” Ava says.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I AM NOT.”
“You,” Sienna says as she adds mascara to my lashes, “are wearing this dress. You are showing up. And you are going to eat. Food. And probably his mouth after.”
“STOP.”
Ava grabs the lipstick. The same one from the night before. The survivor shade.
She unscrews it with a flourish. “You know what this is?”
I narrow my eyes. “A weapon?”
“A prophecy,” Trey whispers reverently.
I snatch it from her. “I’m putting it on becauseIlike it. Not because I’m going.”
Three simultaneous snorts.
As I apply it, Ava crosses her arms. “Okay, final touches: hair soft, not too curled, not too straight, effortless hottie vibe. Perfume that suggests you shower. Jewelry minimal. Bra optional.”
“No bra,” Sienna says. “The dress doesn’t need it.”
“No bra,” Trey confirms. “The billionaire absolutely doesn’t need it.”
“You three are demons.”
Ava smirks. “Sexy demons.”
I throw the lip gloss into my bag and step back from the mirror.
And… okay. Okay, fine.
I look good.
Really good.
Which is unfair because I am not going.
