“You look pretty when you—” He clears his throat and trails off again, but that doesn’t stop the butterflies from filling my stomach. He must be hallucinating because I have not started getting ready yet and definitely do not look pretty.
“Okay, that’s enough. If we don’t start getting ready for dinner, we’re going to be late. You are getting out of bed now!”
Grabbing a hold of his arm, I try to tug him out of bed.
‘Try’ being the key word here. After he lifted me up so easily, I should have been aware that he is significantly strongerthan me. My grip is so tight on his arm that when he moves to flip over, he pulls me on top of him.
I shriek and try to move until I realize that my robe is dangerously close to falling open. There is only a thin layer of cloth that separates me and Patrick, and I am not about to be the naked one in this situation. I feel him shift under me, and I yell out, “Patrick! Stop moving!”
He instantly stills—his sleepy eyes turn wide—and I take a deep breath before continuing. “I need you to stay completely still, so I can figure out how to get off of you without flashing you and showing you something that you don’t want to see. Because if that happens, I’m going to crawl into a hole and die, and you won't have a fake girlfriend anymore.”
Debating the best way to get out of this, I decide to hold one hand tight to where the robe is threatening to open and wiggle off of him with my dignity still intact.
Once I am back on my feet, I let out a sigh and tug my robe close to me. Even with my body removed from his, my mind is still focused on all the places we made contact. What would’ve happened if I let the robe slip? How would Patrick have reacted?
I snap out of it when he sits up from the bed. “I’m sorry, El. I have always been bad at getting up when I don’t want to—” Mid-sentence, his tone shifts, and a wicked smirk forms on his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were such a weakling. Well, maybe I should have realized—”
I blink at him, surprised at the apology turned insult. Feeling defensive, I hit his arm. “You caught me off guard! A sneak attack is not a fair judgment!”
“Sure, sure. I guess I’m just super strong. Thanks for the ego boost, El.” Patrick stands up and kisses me on the top of the head. Flexing his biceps, he walks into the bathroom.
As the shower turns on, I am left there in silence confused about why he would show affection if there is no one around to see it.
When Patrick comes out of the bathroom only wearing a towel, he quirks an eyebrow at me, but refusing to engage, I grab my makeup and toiletries bag and rush past him without giving him another glance. A flirty Patrick is a dangerous Patrick, and I cannot let him know how attracted to him I am. It’s already embarrassing to have a crush and downright pathetic when that crush is on your fake boyfriend.
It takes me a bit longer than I was planning, but I finally finish up my makeup—a feat in itself. Honestly, I love wearing make-up, but there’s never a good reason to doll myself up like this.
My eyes scan the mirror as I stare at myself. It took me a long time, but I genuinely like how I look. I’ve come to understand that I definitely don’t look like everyone else, but that is okay. There is always going to be someone skinnier or with better skin or less freckles, but when I look at myself in the mirror with no one to compare to, I see someone who is beautiful.
As I start to get dressed, I desperately wish I could be the girl who doesn’t have to wear a bra, but alas, I am not. It hasbeen the downfall of so many cute outfits, but it’s not going to happen today. The same day I bought this dress I also bought a matching lingerie set in the same exact color, so I wouldn’t have to worry about boob tape or a bra that look like a torture device. Slipping off the robe reveals the lacy, emerald lingerie. The bra is unlined and the thong has some stretch, so I don’t feel constricted. And, it's covered in this beautiful, floral pattern with scalloped edges.
Fuck, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this sexy.
An extra air of confidence fills my lungs as I turn in the mirror, checking out my butt. I would wear this every day if it meant that I feel this good, but since I only have one set, I save it for special occasions.
Unzipping the garment bag, I see that the dress is just as beautiful as I remember. The satin is smooth between my fingers. When I slip it over my head, the fabric flows down my body perfectly, hitting just below my knees. It is the ideal midi length to be elegant, but it also has some added flare due to the suspiciously high slit up the side. The fabric cinches in to define my waist, and the cowl neckline is minimally draped, laying flawlessly against my chest. It is held up by thin straps, which blend impeccably into the bra straps.
I clasp my gold pendant necklace and add tiny gold hoops to round out the look.
The last thing I have to worry about is my hair. Do I want to go classic and wear it up or should I keep the look more casual and wear it down? I desperately need a second opinion, so I go out to Patrick.
Seeing him before he notices me, I allow myself a moment to take him in. He looks strikingly handsome. God, no wonder his coworkers are obsessed with him. He’s wearing a classic black suit that looks tailored to his body, and his hair is styled in a way that I haven’t seen before. It is slicked back with a bit of gel to give it shape, but it’s not uptight or stiff.
When his eyes finally catch mine, I inquire about his opinion. “Up or down?”
Chapter 22
Patrick
“Upordown?”
There is no way I can think straight with her looking at me like that—especially when she’s wearingthat.
Ellie’s body is covered with a silky, dark green fabric, causing my brain to severely malfunction. I have no idea how an item of clothing can fit someone so well, but I can’t stop staring. Not leaving much to the imagination, it is molded toallof Ellie’s curves. My eyes land on a long sliver of soft thigh, and I think she might be trying to kill me by showing that much leg. All of my blood is rushing somewhere it should not be, and my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.
“Patrick?”
Oh shit. “W-what?”
