I spun away from her, reaching for the final dress option—a spaghetti-strap, satin ball gown that matched my emerald eyes and had a leg slit high enough to raise some eyebrows. Especially amongst the bigwig law firm putting on the shindig and their rich bitch donors.
“Look this way for a second, would you?”
“Hm?”
With the gown still in hand, I turned back around, freezing when I saw the phone pointed at me.Myphone, no less. I should have known my passcode was too easy to crack.
“What are you doing?”
“Girl, trust me.” She pulled the phone away from her face. “Someday when we’re old and wrinkly, you are going to want to look back on how hot you were. Now, strike a pose.”
I rolled my eyes but nonetheless complied with her demands. It wasn’t the first time I had posed for pictures in a state of undress either. One of my book club regulars, a boudoir photographer based out of Portland, had coaxed me into a witchy-themed photo shoot last October. The album wasn’t my only souvenir from the experience; she had also taught me all the best ways to arch my body and emphasize my natural curves.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I told her after a few dozen poses.
I had just barely finished slipping the dress over my hips when a familiar noise sounded from behind me.
I whipped around. “What did you just do?”
“Nothing.”
“Thatbeep boopwas not the sound of nothing.” I held my hand out to her, silently demanding she return my phone. Jeez, I felt like a parent scolding their teenager. “June, who did youbeep boopthat picture to?”
Her shoulders shook. “More likebeep boob.”
“June.”
She smacked the phone into the palm of my hand. I flipped it around and nearly fainted when I saw the recently sent text.
“Oh god.”
The small label indicating the message had beensentswitched toseen.
“Oh myfuckinggod.”
“He saw it, didn’t he?”
She bit down on her bottom lip. It was a little disturbing how much she was enjoying my distress. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“C’mon, Ness.” She dragged me down into the empty spot next to her. “You let him pretend to be your boyfriend. You spent an afternoon in the man’s garden. You rode his monster cock—”
“I never should have told you that.”
She took my hands in hers. Now I felt like a disobedient teenager. “Just admit it. You’re falling for him.”
“Fine,” I said begrudgingly. “I . . . might have . . . feelings for him.”
“There! You did it.” All the air whooshed out of me when she hugged me to her chest. “I’m so proud of you.”
My feigned protest devolved into laughter when she wouldn’t let up, then screams when one of my tits popped out of the corset. We both fell backwards, crashing onto the layer of dresses strewn across my comforter.
When we both caught our breaths, June asked the question every single person over the age of twenty-five dreaded hearing.
“What are you so afraid of, Ness?”
I counted the wooden slats in the ceiling, taking my time to formulate a response. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t?”
