“Have faith, girl. Have faith.”
Sadly, I have very little. I love Bailey, but at times she has questionable taste. Our styles are opposite in every way, not just with how much skin we deem acceptable to expose.
“Yessss…” she squeals, and my stomach drops into my heels. “This will look killer on you.”
She pulls out a scrap of navy fabric and holds it up in front of me with a wide smile on her face.
“B, you won’t catch me dead wearing that.”
“Just try it on. It’s a little big for me.” I don’t see how that’s possible, seeing as it looks like it’s a size zero from this distance, but I keep my mouth shut. “It’ll be perfect. And,” she adds, an idea hitting her, “it might help with that little situation you’re in the middle of.”
“I’m not in the middle of anything,” I say, swiping the hanger from her because I already know that fighting with her on this is pointless. I may as well just try it on, prove it doesn’t fit, and then hope she’ll allow me to revisit my wardrobe for a dress that will cover what God gave me.
“It’s been what? A year since a guy so much as touched you.”
It’s been almost a year and a half since my last failed attempt at a date, but I refrain from correcting her.
I shimmy my jeans down my legs and carefully pull my blouse off before laying them out over Bailey’s bed. “What?” I ask when she shakes her head at me.
“You know it is okay to sometimes leave clothes in a pile on the floor, right?”
“I’m a neat freak. You could have to deal with a hell of a lot worse than me following you around and tidying up after your messy ass.”
She rolls her eyes and hands me the dress once I’m in only my underwear. Deciding that pulling it up might be the easiest option, I step into the fabric and attempt to drag it over my hips. The material has more stretch than I gave it credit for, because it skims happily over my curves. I pull the straps up my arms and put them into place over my shoulders before looking down.
“Okay, you are so wearing that. Have you seen your ass?”
“Weirdly, no,” I sass, looking over my shoulder at the mirror behind me. I nod, because I can’t deny that the fabric hugs it pretty nicely.
“You gotta lose the bra though.”
“Nope. Not happening.”
Bailey’s hip juts out and she rests her hand on it as she stares at me in a ‘go on, try and argue’ stance.
“There’s enough support in the dress.”
“I’m sure it’ll hold them up just fine, I’m more worried about flashing someone.”
“Making your mission a sure success.”
“I’m not on a mission. I’m perfectly happy as—”
“Nope. You need a man-induced orgasm. End of.”
I know I’ve been a little uptight recently, but it’s not my lack of male attention that’s causing it, and I doubt a night with one will solve the issue.
Bailey must see my shoulders drop, because she walks over and takes my hands in hers. “I know you’re worried about her. I am too. But sitting around the house feeling guilty about not being able to do more isn’t going to help in any way. No matter the results, you still have a life. You may as well at least attempt to enjoy yourself.”
“I guess.” I don’t feel all that enthused, but I know she’s right.
“Now, drink this,” she says, handing my glass back to me. “Then let the girls free, and we’re out of here.”
I tip my glass to my lips and swallow what’s left before doing as I’m told. I’m soon following Bailey out of the house toward the awaiting car. Despite my earlier disinterest, tingles of excitement start to ignite in my belly. I can’t deny that the dress looked good once I turned and got a proper look at myself in the mirror. I also can’t deny that I’m currently showing more boob than I have to anyone outside the bedroom in a lot of years.
Shaking thoughts of my past from my head, I climb in the car as Bailey begins flirting with the driver. Just because I’m dressed up and showing a little skin, it doesn’t mean I’m going back to a time in my life I’d rather forget. I’m just going out for a night of drinking and dancing with my best friend. It’s exactly what I should be doing. I’m young with no ties, a Friday night out for a colleague’s birthday should be a normal thing to do.
Pushing aside my worries, I look at Bailey, who flashes me a wide smile, and I try to relax.
“Tonight’s going to be great. Did I tell you that Rylee managed to secure the VIP section for us thanks to her… connections,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. I groan as I think of her boss, Rylee and her famous boyfriend.
My heart starts to race. “A-are they going to be there?” I try to ask as casually as I can.
“Please don’t tell me you’re still scared of being in the same building as him?”
“I’m not scared, B,” I argue, although I’m not entirely sure that’s true. “I just always make myself look like an idiot every time I’m anywhere near him. I turn into a fumbling teenager with one glance in his direction.” My cheeks heat at my admission. I don’t need to tell Bailey this—she’s witnessed my mortifying behavior, time and time again when it comes to him. Colton Donavan. My teenage heartthrob, incredible Indy driver, and all-around nice guy. It should be illegal to be that good looking, kind and generous. I was obsessed with him in my former years, thanks to discovering a trashy magazine on the coffee table after school one day with him on the cover. No matter how many years have passed, it seems the second I’m in his vicinity, I return to that
