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Her face flushed.

My hand found hers, lingering for a moment instead of immediately pulling away, my thumb grazing lightly over her fingers before I let go. “See you soon.”

Chapter twenty-four

Spill the Beans

DELANE

Thirty minutes into shopping with Chelsea, and I was already mortified.

“You cannot really expect me to wear this,” I shrieked, turning around in the floor-length mirror to examine myself.

Not only had Chelsea dragged me into the most flamboyant mall in the whole town, but she had, only moments ago, picked out the shortest skirt in the entire store for me to try on. The horror only grew the more I stared at myself. The skirt could practically be my underwear. I turned slightly and saw my actual underwear. I squeaked.

“No way. I’m practically naked!” I said as I unzipped it.

“That’s kind of the point, sweetheart,” Chelsea spoke with her usually sarcastic tone. “You’re such a party pooper,” she added as she threw another item of clothing at me. “Try this one on, then.”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, sifting through the garment for the price tag. When I found what I was looking for, I nearly fainted from all the zeros.

“Are you crazy? Not only is this pair of jeans too expensive, but it’s two sizes too small!”

Chelsea scowled. “Well, they’re going to have to be tight.”

“Why?” I was trying to squeeze them over my thighs as I asked, already out of breath from the exertion.

“Don’t you want to get laid tonight?” she huffed, as if I should already know the point behind her torturing me in these outfits.

“Uh,” I could feel my cheeks beginning to heat up. “I wasn’t really planning to have sex tonight.”

Truth was—I wasn’t sure how to tell Chelsea how I’d already had sex with Noah. And how I thought about it all the damn time.

Chelsea snorted. “No one plans for sex, Delane. How boring would that be? Sex should be spontaneous.”

Spontaneous, you say? I considered her statement, my mind bringing forth the visual of me straddling Noah on his mother’s terrace. I could still feel my breasts in his mouth and me riding him in the brisk night air.

All of a sudden my cheeks weren’t the only thing feeling hot.

I tried to divert the conversation, “So… why are you trying to dress me up? If it happens, it happens, right? And besides, I’ve only known Noah for—”

Chelsea interrupted, placing her hand in the air to silence me. “You contradict the whole spur-of-the-moment rule. What I am trying to do is enhance your body—which is your asset—so that you look more desirable. With your personality—which is definitely your downfall—spontaneous sex would be impossible. By making you look sexy, I am helping you reach the spontaneous part. Or pass it. Whatever.”

I blinked. “I think you just insulted me.”

Chelsea scoffed. “Of course I didn’t! I said your body is an asset!”

“But you also said that I am a dull, guarded individual who—if not for a good figure—would have no chance at a love life because I have a terrible personality.”

Chelsea grew quiet, thinking. Then she nodded. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

“You’re such a bitch!” I scowled, throwing all of the clothing into a pile—so much crap that I could never wear.

Chelsea chuckled. “Yes, well. No one can cover that up. I’m a natural bitch. So, what will you wear? Hurry up and pick something so that we can get going.”

I twirled a cheap plastic hanger around my finger, watching Chelsea rifle through rack after rack of barely-there dresses. She’d been at this for twenty minutes—picking out things that would make me look “fuckable,” her word, not mine—while I stood there like her reluctant dress-up doll.

And I finally got tired of it.