“Who got you this stuff?” Christian still wants to know.
“A nice friend,” I tell him.
“Judy?”
I hold up the dress, and study it. “No.”
“Cassie?”
I laugh. “No.”
“Miriam?”
I run to my bedroom. “No.”
“Colton?” he calls out.
Oh, crap.I can’t tell him it’s from Colton. Oh, I hate lying to Christian, so I choose to ignore his question as I peel off my clothes and slip into the dress, eager to see if it fits.
Someone must be looking out for me up there because it does. It fits almost perfectly, a little snug at the waist but with my slimming Spanx, it should fit nicely.
I turn to see Christian studying me. “Beautiful,” he says. That’s the word of the week.Beautifulthis.Beautifulthat. Everything is beautiful this week. Last week’s word wasUnfortunately.Unfortunately, I can’t eat my broccoli.Unfortunately, I can’t go to bed yet.
I smile down at him, and lean in for a hug. I live for this boy. And for the first time in a long time, I’m living a little for myself too.
* * *
I call Cassie the next day. “Change of plans,” I tell her. “I don’t need to buy a dress after all.”
“Oh really? Why not?” She’s disappointed because she loves shopping, even when it’s for someone else.
This is way too big to get into over the phone. “Why don’t you come over? I’ll stir us up some lemonade, and we’ll chat.”
“Oh… okay,” she says, sounding wary. She knows I’m up to something.
I’ve decided to tell her everything. The white candy room. The movie night. The dress and shoes. It’s bound to come up, and I don’t want any surprises. And what’s more, I don’t want to hold anything back or lie to my best friend. I want to have a good time, not stress about what Colton might or might not say.
Three hours later, she finally arrives at my place. The day is still young, plenty of time to tell her what I need to.
She’s wearing a pretty white dress and matching wedges. She always looks so good in white. Her sun kissed complexion suits it, whereas I get completely washed out in white, my skin too light. “What’s up?” she asks as soon as she’s through the door.
“Sit down,” I urge her and serve her a tall cool glass of lemonade. We engage in the usual chit chat for a bit until she asks me straight out, “What’s up with you? Something’s up with you.”
I nod in acknowledgement. “It’s about Colton Rossi,” I admit.
Her eyes grow wide. “What about him?”
“I haven’t told you everything,” I finally confess. “I don’t know why. It’s stupid.”
She sits up straighter. “Have you been holding out on me, girl?”
I smile. “A little…”
“C’mon… spill. Right now.”
“Well, I didn’t tell you that I was the chosen one at the party,” I start. “It was all—”
“No way,” she practically shrieks, and Christian turns his attention to us. He’s playing with his Hot Wheels on the floor.
