I drag a hand over my face and hear Mom laugh softly from the kitchen. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.”
“I’m just saying, I can totally picture it. Maddy walking down the aisle, you standing there all serious but secretly in love—”
“Okay,” I cut in quickly. “That’s enough.”
Bailey just grins at me, clearly very pleased with herself. I shake my head, walk past her and head upstairs while her giggles follow me.
14
MADDY
They are calledgentleman for a reason
By five-thirty, my room looks like a clothing explosion. Jeans, dresses, cute tops, jackets I haven’t worn in a year all over the floor. I’ve tried on six different outfits. They're all too casual. Too much. Too boring. Too trying.
I flop down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. What do you even wear on a fake date? I don’t even know where we’re going. Is this a jeans situation? A dress situation? Acute but effortlesssituation?
I tried asking for help, but that was a huge mistake.
Dawn said, “Dress. Always a dress.”
Tess said, “Jeans and a nice top. You don’t want to overdo it.”
Daphne said, “Whatever makes you feel like yourself,” which is sweet but also completely unhelpful. So now I’m back where I started, surrounded by fabric.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I turn to see Noah leaning against my doorframe, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“Get out,” I say, flinging a sweater at him.
He catches it. “Is this what a crisis looks like?”
“It’s not! Get out!”
He laughs and walks back into the hallway.
Eventually, I settle on a simple but flattering dress in soft yellow—nothing dramatic, just light and easy. The fabric issoft and flowy, falling just above my knees with thin straps and a loose skirt that sways when I walk. I add a small pair of gold hoop earrings and a delicate necklace, before heading downstairs.
Dad and Noah just left to buy groceries, which means the house is completely empty. Perfect. I grab my phone, scroll for half a second, and hit my nostalgia playlist. Within seconds,You Belong With Meby Taylor Swift is blasting through the kitchen speakers, echoing through the quiet living room.
I brush my hair and leave my natural waves down, swiping on mascara, a little blush, and lip gloss while singing along under my breath, which quickly turns into singing very much not under my breath.
I grab my hairbrush and lift it to my mouth like a microphone, fully committed.
I spin across the living room tiles, dress swishing around my legs, hair moving from side to side, still shouting the music—and nearly jump out of my skin.
“Jesus—!” I choke out, hand flying to my chest.
Ryan is leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with a grin that is far too entertained for my liking. I hurry to yank the volume down. “Oh my God—how are you inside?”
He pushes off the wall slowly, still smiling. “Back door was open.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Right. Yeah.” A small silence settles between us before I add, trying for casual, “How, uh… how long were you standing there?”
Ryan’s grin deepens. “Long enough to know why you’re always late.”
I narrow my eyes at him and then I actually look at him. He’s dressed in dark trousers and a black button-down, the sleeves rolled slightly at his forearms.
