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“As if my ass and tits could ever fit into anything in your closet.” I chew on my bottom lip, tasting cherry balm and indecision. The closet beckons, a siren call to the part of me wanting to impress and dazzle. But the other half screams fraud, impostor, playing dress-up for a role I never auditioned for.
“We could find something,” she insists, but she’s wrong. Her tall, thin frame is nothing like my average build. I’m not exactly short at five foot six, but I can’t deny my thicker thighs and wide hips.
“I have something that may work.” The sleek black designer piece I splurged on with last summer’s internship stipend comes to mind. Local thrift store for the win!
“Come on, girl, you’ll knock him dead.” Maddy stands and grins, but there’s an edge of seriousness beneath her teasing tone.
“Maybe,” I concede, the word knotting in my throat. “But what if he hates it?”
“Impossible.” She waves her hand as if shooing away my words. “Blake’s going to fall so hard, he’ll need his hockey pads.”
A laugh escapes me, shaky and uncertain. “Guess I better try it on, then.”
“Damn right.” Maddy’s enthusiasm is like a cheerleader’s chant in my ear.
I rise from the couch and wonder who I’m trying to convince more—Maddy or myself.
A few moments later, the closet door creaks open. Before diving into the sea of cotton and polyester, my hand hovers past the graveyard of well-loved jeans and hoodies and fish out silk and satin instead.
“Wow,” Maddy breathes from her perch on my bed, eyes wide as I haul out the dress. “I can’t believe you own something that isn’t denim.”
That brings out a smile. “Got to have some secrets,” I say, draping it over my arm. Goosebumps erupt from the cool kiss of silk against my skin. “Even from you.”
“Secrets, huh?” Maddy cocks an eyebrow, crossing her legs. “That dress screams scandal.”
“Scandalous” isn’t a word often pinned to me, not like “studious” or “serious” Amanda Hoyt, future Dr. Hoyt. But tomorrow, maybe I’ll be someone else. Someone who doesn’t flinch at shadows of doubt or shrink beneath expectations. I’ll be the girl in the black dress, making Blake Morton’s heart thump wilder than a slapshot hitting the boards.
“Turn around,” I commanded, slipping off my sweatshirt, bare skin prickling in the sudden chill. The dress slinks over my head, a dark cascade, and then it’s there—the gasp that tells me I’ve transformed.
“Jesus, Amanda, you look … hot.” Maddy’s word sizzles and brands itself onto every inch of me, clad in the sinfully soft material.
“Hot enough to burn?” I ask, daring a glance in the mirror. The dress clings like a lover’s grasp, emphasizing curves I usually try to hide. It plunges at the neckline, bold and unapologetic, and the hem teases the tops of my thighs with every breath I take.
“Enough to set the whole damn place on fire,” she shoots back, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Good.” I draw in a deep breath, the fabric stretching over my chest, sensation blooming where it pulls taut. “Because tomorrow, I’m playing with matches.”
“Damn straight.” Maddy nods, approval shining in her gaze. “You’re pure wildfire.”
For a moment, I let myself believe it. Believe that I’m more than just the somber girl with her nose always stuck in a textbook. That I’m the devil in this dress who’ll make Blake Morton’s eyes darken with desire when he sees me.
But then I checked myself. This is nothing real between Blake and me except a proposition. As soon as the evening ends, we’ll return to our lives and speak only in passing. Back to the way I prefer. But as I ponder this, the thought depresses me, and I don’t understand why.
I am not looking for anyone to date, especially a star athlete with family money. I vowed to stay away from those types of men. That type of money comes with power and greed, a combination I’ve fought against my entire life.
My chest tightens as I think about Mom. How differently we would’ve been if power and greed hadn’t tainted our lives.
No! Nothing serious will come of this. After tomorrow, Blake and I will go our separate ways, and everything will return to normal.
I won’t be my mother.
I blink back threatening tears and force a smile. “So, we agree. This dress will work.”
“Blake’s gonna eat his heart out,” Maddy says with a low whistle.
“Hope he chokes on it,” I say, but my hands betray me as they shake.
“Girl, you’ve got this.” Maddy nudges my shoulder. “You’re the fantasy every guy at Cessna U didn’t know they had.”
