But I did need to talk to him about a few things.
Or at least that was the excuse I told myself.
It wasn’t the fact that I was intrigued at all by his note or what spending time with him would be like.
I was right on the edge, bouncing back and forth between staying and going, when nine o’clock rolled around and Ronen’s anxiety spiked.
That pushed me over.
He had given me a piece of himself, and I could give him my time in return.
My decision resulted in Oliver dragging me into my closet, throwing an outfit at me I thought was too beautiful to wear, then informing me not to worry about our child because he’d look after him.
After some convincing, Oliver got me into the dress.
I even tamed my waves, pinning half back, and put on a little makeup.
Why?
Because despite Ronen’s letter never specifically saying this was a date, Oliver kept insisting it was.
I’d never been on a date before.
Heavenly Shit.
I couldn’t count the number of times I wiped my hands on the textured white cotton or fiddled with the buttons that started at the dip of my cleavage and trailed down to my upper thighs.
It fit me like a glove, accentuating my breasts that had grown afteractually eating regular meals. The bottom hugged my curves, sexy and feminine.
I actually loved the dress on me—as long as I didn’t think about my thigh scars stretching beneath the fabric.
When I did, I tried to remember Ronen’s comforting words about scars, thinking I should be bold and proud of them instead of wondering if I looked like Frankenstein in a dress.
I walked a few steps down our hall, then turned back and tried to squeeze into my room again.
“I look stupid. This is stupid.”
“No, you look like every straight male’s dream. Stop worrying and just enjoy yourself.”
Oliver pushed me out of the doorway, turned me around, and patted my bottom.
“Carry on, hot stuff.”
“Not helping,” I grumbled, cheeks flaming as I continued toward the library.
All the while, I couldn’t stop fiddling with the damned dress.
“I’m confident. I’m beautiful. I can do this,” I whispered as I rounded the last corner.
I stopped the moment I saw him.
Ronen straightened from where he’d been leaning against the library doors, his eyes widening for a split second, shadows flashing through the gold.
He didn’t say a word.
Just stared.
And stared.
