Page 78 of I Choose You

When Todd asked me to arrange dates and project schedules, I wondered if I could manage it. How could a woman be expected to stay sane and in control when facing the man she wasn’t dating but might want to? How could I keep a straight face and listen to the dry, detailed replies he gave me when I so quickly got stuck staring at his mouth and remembering the sweet torture of his tongue and teeth on my nipple?

I was in huge trouble, but it was a mess of my own making.

As I walked home, I decided I’d have to bow out of the fake dating arrangement. It was foolhardy to begin with. Despite what he’d said, I couldn’t escape the feeling I was being paid for sex, and that was an awful thought to consider.

It would be best to keep everything professional only. The lines were getting too blurred. My emotions were skewed. I couldn’t stay afloat in this mind game.

Having sex with him was a mistake. I understood that now even though the admission hurt. It stung because I’d already started to wish it wasn’t a mistake, that it was a good thing.

Well, it was. The sex was phenomenal, perhaps hotter than anything else I’d done because it was in the open, where anyone could have found us. That public setting factor made it seem more exciting than it might have been if we’d fucked on a bed.

But it’s not worth my sanity.

It wasn’t worth it. Navigating the ethical gray area of accepting money from someone I’d had sex with was giving me a headache. And the fake dates? I’d enjoyed the cake tasting despite those awkward moments, but being invited to the wedding-related events meant I’d spend more time in Kody’s presence. He was a jerk, just like Kaden had been in high school. Now that we were near each other as adults, it was triggering me.

I didn’t want to feel that harrowing negativity again. I didn’t want to relapse to the crippling self-consciousness that ruled my life when I was a teen.

After I let myself inside my apartment, I set my phone down on the counter near the door. The lock screen of me and Mom smiling from a selfie on her back patio stared at me.

I planned to use that lump sum on her.

I can’t back out.

It was impossible. She needed that help so much, and it would be a damn shame to toss away the money.

* * *

Twelve years ago…

I grabbed the other Gelly Roll pen and pressed the tip to my chemistry notebook. Solid-to-gas equations were so mind-numbing, my time was better spent doodling. The depiction was nearly complete. I was no artist, though I loved looking at art and considering what painters and sculptors wanted to convey. But I didn’t let a lack of trained skill hold me back from outlining creations that only I would see.

On this page, metallic ink dried in curving lines and corners.

It was a sketch of a dress. My dress.

Prom was quickly approaching. It was all anyone talked about, but I had to agree with my peers. Welcome to the Jungle was this year’s theme for the dance, and it was stupid. We were seniors in high school, not toddlers at a preschool.

The theme didn’t matter, I supposed. This would be our last dance as high school students, and I was excited. Paige and I would be each other’s dates again. That meant that pothead would resume his dumb rumors about us being an actual couple, but I doubted anyone really listened to what he claimed. The teachers were likely counting down the days until they would be free of him for good.

Mom and I had gone thrifting for my dresses to the other dances before this. The homecoming gown I wore was Paige’s cousin’s bridesmaid dress from a few years ago. Mom had taken it in and adjusted it, and it hadn’t looked bad at all. Not new, not good, but it had worked.

This dress that I drew was mine. It was the first thing I’d ever owned that truly made me feel pretty. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it made me feel like a princess. Princesses were overrated. Like a prince would swoop in and save any girl from a lousy existence.

Yeah, right.

I didn’t need a dress to make me feel magical. I was a senior. I stopped believing in fantasies well before my dad had left us.

But this dress made me feel truly happy. And pretty. The best thing about it was that Mom was making it for me. All for me. My very own prom dress I could keep forever. I already knew which sneakers to wear with it. No dress shoes for me. I was flat-footed, and the white sneakers would give it just a little kick of a unique look.

A little kick. Ha ha. I was hilarious.

I wasn’t the only one bored about solid-to-gas conversions. Kody walked up to me at the high-top table, leaning over my shoulder to glance at what I was doodling. He probably wasn’t bored. He most likely didn’t care to understand the lesson.

“What are you drawing?”

I almost did a double-take at him. He never spoke to me, not in a normal tone and one-on-one like this. Teasing me from afar was his style.

“My dress.” I narrowed my eyes at him, making sure it was Kody. Couldn’t they cut their hair differently? Or get a slight scar on their chin? It was tough trying to remember who was who. Kaden had been so aloof lately, though. I recalled his attitude that day we’d done the presentation together. He wasn’t mean, but he’d clearly had an issue with the world that day.