Page 78 of Hot As Ice

She nods, her breath catching in her throat.

“That’s my good girl.”

twenty-four

stevie

I’M AT A DRESS FITTING WITH CELESTE.

I’m standing on this elevated platform in the middle of a very upscale boutique, and a woman is sticking pins in my gown as I keep very still.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Celeste says, sitting on a pristine white couch with a champagne flute in her perfectly manicured hand.

“Thank you.” The truth is I feel very awkward and uncomfortable and I’m trying my best to hide it. To act like I belong here with Celeste’s bougie friends in this extremely bougie place. I’m the youngest of the five women also here for their fittings. And the way they carry themselves with such poise and confidence makes me feel like a little kid.

“You have a great body, Stevie,” Heidi, one of Celeste’s friends, says. But she doesn’t smile when she says it and her eyes are narrowed into slits, like she’s assessing me carefully for any tiny flaw. I feel like a bug under a microscope.

“Thank you.” It’s the phrase I’ve been saying almost nonstop since I got here.

“And gorgeous hair, too,” Heidi adds. “Extensions?”

“No, it’s all my own hair.”

She gives me a tight smile in response, then turns to Celeste. “Please don’t tell me we have to wear our hair up for the party.”

Celeste waves a hand, like Heidi is being ridiculous. “Of course not. I was thinking soft, flowing waves, you know? Elevated boho.”

“Good,” Heidi says, grabbing another glass of champagne. “I don’t want to look 50 years old.”

“As if. You still look 21.”

Heidi flips her hand dismissively. “I’d rather look 18.”

Celeste laughs. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“I’m serious, C. Ever since turning 31, I feel so old. I didn’t feel old last year when I turned 30, but this year…ugh.”

Celeste makes a sympathetic face. “It’s all in your head.”

“And I’m nowhere close to getting married. I feel like an old maid.”

“Oh my god, stop. Please. You’re not an old maid. Not even close.”

Heidi downs her champagne and takes a seat next to Celeste. She had been standing watching my fitting this whole time. I feel very awkward listening to this conversation between them, but Heidi clearly has no qualms about airing her insecurities within earshot.

She’s rather strange to me. She’s beautiful and looks young and trendy, but also has a perpetual scowl. Some might call it a resting bitch face. She doesn’t even try to be polite, which is fascinating to me as a people pleaser who would rather die than be rude to anyone.

The seamstress tells me to turn around, so I turn around.

“I might not be an old maid, but I feel like an old maid,” Heidi says.

“Like I said,” Celeste says, “it’s all in your head.”

“And how do I get it out of my head?”

Celeste chuckles. “Therapy?”

The seamstress tells me to turn back around, so I’m facing Heidi and Celeste again. They make a lovely picture on the couch, Celeste in cream sweats and Heidi in wide leg blue jeans and an ivory knit sweater.