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How can I so no to that?
I nod. “I’ll go.”
“Thank you.” He hugs me to him.
Something tells me that me going to this thing is a bigger deal for him than he’s letting on, but I don’t say anything. He wants me there, so I’ll be there.
He releases me. “You’re going to have to get a dress.”
“I’m sure I have something—”
He shakes his head. “Not even the dress you wore to Xander and Thea’s wedding would be fancy enough for this. Trust me.”
My mouth pops open. Maybe agreeing to this wasn’t such a good idea.
“Well,” I say, hoping my apprehension doesn’t show on my face, “I guess I better ask Thea and Rae to go shopping.”
He nods. “Good idea.”
Oh, good Lord—if he’s agreeing I need to go shopping with Thea then this must be a super fancy thing.
“I’ll talk to the girls,” I say.
He kisses me quickly before pulling away. “Thank you. This means more than you know.” He stands and rubs his hands on his jeans. “Now I really need a cigarette.”
I shake my head as he disappears back through the window to smoke.
I text Thea and Rae in a group chat and they both readily agree to go shopping tomorrow.
I hope I can find something because if I have to go shopping again I just may die.
***
“What about this one?” Thea asks, holding up a shimmery pink mermaid gown.
I point a warning finger at her. “If you show me one more pink dress I’m barricading you in a dressing room and leaving you here.”
Thea pouts. “No would’ve sufficed.”
I sigh. “Pink isn’t my thing. If I have to where a stuffy ball gown I need to at least feel like me.”
“And who are you again?” Rae jokes, ruffling my dark brown locks of hair. “I can’t get over the brown. It seems so much weirder than the green or blue.”
“It’s just because you’ve never seen me with normal hair,” I reason, looking through dresses on a rack.
“What kind of event are we dealing with?” Thea asks. “That’ll help me decide what dress style is best.”
I sigh and shrug. “All Jace said was, “It’s fancy. Like really fucking fancy. Think celebrities on the red carpet kind of fancy.’”
“Oh, that helps,” Thea says, rifling through some dresses.
She’s the one that brought us to this boutique on the opposite side of town. It’s two stories in a high-rise building with dresses everywhere. If I can’t find one here, then there’s something wrong with me.
“What kind of color would you like?” Thea asks, her tongue sticking out between her lips as she concentrates on the dresses.
“Preferably black,” I answer. “But I’m open to other options, as long as it’s dark or jewel tone. Do not give me anything pastel or I might strangle you with it,” I warn.
“No pastel. Noted.”
