AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Emily
I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. It’s Josh. I’m going out to dinner with Josh. Why the hell am I so nervous? Argh, I wipe my sweaty palms down the fabric of my dress, then recoil at the thought of possibly marking what has to be the softest freaking fabric I’ve ever worn.
I went in search of Ella’s help as soon as Josh texted and asked me to be ready for dinner. Okay, well, he didn’t ask so much as tell. But, again, it’s Josh. I’m sure if I put my foot down, and really expressed how much I’d rather stay home, he wouldn’t push it. He would let me stay here. Argh, why can’t I just be normal?
Because normal is overrated and average. I hear Josh’s voice repeating those words to me, like he has every day this past week. I just need to calm down. Looking at my reflection in the floor-length mirror, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I don’t know what Ella did, other than wave some bloody magic wand over me, because I don’t look like the plain old Emily right now.
I’m wearing a knee-length black cocktail dress. It has a squared neckline, my breasts popping out the top, with probably way too much cleavage on display. The dress is tight, like painted on my body kind of tight. And there is a slit that runs right up the front of my left leg, stopping about two inches from my hip bone.
My hair is loosely curled, falling down my back. My face though… I don’t know what she’s done, but my eyes look three times bigger than usual, the blue really popping against the gold-toned eyeshadows. And my lips, fire-engine red. This girl looking back at me is not me. She’s beautiful. I almost feel like I’ve got a disguise on. I’m not used to seeing myself look like this. I’m also not used to wearing dresses this nice.
I don’t know how I’m meant to walk around without flashing everyone the black lace panties I have on underneath the dress. That’s if I don’t fall and break an ankle in the black strappy stilettos Ella had me put on. I tried to argue that I wouldn’t be able to walk in them. Her response was: “You’ll have Josh to lean on anyway. You know that boy’s not gonna let you fall flat on your face.”
The shoes do look really good, and I love how my legs look in them. I am, however, self-conscious of how much skin I have showing right now. What is Josh going to say when he sees me? I don’t even know where we are going. What if this dress is too much? I mean, what if he just wanted to take me to McDonald’s?
Shaking my hands out in an attempt to ease my nerves, I eye that bar fridge I’ve not inspected yet. Maybe if I just drink a little something, I can calm down enough to at least pretend to be normal.
I’m bending at the waist to examine the insides of the fridge, because this dress is too tight to bend down any other way. The fridge is filled with tiny bottles, most of which I don’t recognise. The two bottles I do recognise are a sweet white wine or champagne. I opt for the bottle of sweet bubbly white.
“You know, I’m tempted to skip dinner and head straight into dessert, with that ass of yours being the only thing on my menu.”
I jump out of my skin, straightening up and spinning around, only to slam into Josh’s chest. Josh’s very naked chest. Very wet, naked chest. Tiny water droplets drip down his torso. The moan involuntarily slips out of my lips.
“Fuck, Emmy, are you trying to give me a heart attack. Because damn, you look incredible.” Josh takes the bottle from my hands. Stepping back, he twists the top off before holding the bottle back out to me. His eyes rake up and down my body.
“Thank you.” My voice is just as shaky as my hands when I take the drink back and bring the bottle to my mouth. Why the hell am I so twisted about whether or not he likes the dress? I don’t care what he thinks about it. I like it and that’s all that matters. The lie I’m telling myself isn’t working. I do care what he thinks and it’s pissing me off, because I know I shouldn’t.
Josh stares at my shaky hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Emmy, I fucking love you. But you’re a shit-ass liar. Now, what’s wrong?” he says, more persistent.
“I am not a shit-ass liar. When I was fourteen, I had my dad believe I was at a sleepover at my friend Katie’s. When really, I went to...” I snap my mouth shut. That is not a story for Josh’s ears. That’s one of those I’ll take it to my grave stories and never tell a soul.
“When you were really what? Go on, finish the sentence. This, I can’t wait to hear.”
“It doesn’t matter. The moral of the story is: if I could get away with lying to my dad, who was a trained special forces soldier, then I think I’m a pretty good liar.” I shrug.
“Emmy, I’m aware who your father was and what he did. But I’d love to know what it was you were really doing while you were supposed to be at your friend Katie’s? That sounds like a story I should know. Also, we don’t keep secrets from each other. Spill the beans, Em.” He smirks.
Well, let’s see how long he’s wearing that cocky grin when I tell him what I was really doing that night I didn’t stay at Katie’s. “Okay, if you’re so insistent on knowing, I’ll tell you.” I crook my finger at him, ushering him closer so I can whisper. Leaning into his ear, I tell him, “I went to the movies with Carter. He was the captain of our school’s swim team. Real fast, he was. We sat up in the back of the theatre and...”
My sentence is cut off. Sparks explode throughout my body as Josh’s lips smash against mine. His kiss has a way of making me lose all sense of reality. When Josh kisses me, everything in the room fades away, my senses overridden by my body’s reaction to his.
“Mmm, I missed you,” I mumble as I break away from his lips, fisting his shirt in one hand and trying not to drop my tiny wine bottle that’s grasped in my other.
“I missed you more.”
“Not a competition. Want the rest of that story now?” I ask sweetly.
“Nope, I’m going to be with your dad on this one and pretend that you really did stay at Katie’s house all night.”
“Okay.” I step back, sipping on the wine. The sweet, fruity taste lingers on my tongue.
“Now, tell me what’s wrong?” Josh says. Damn it, I thought he’d forgotten about that.
“It’s nothing. Where are we going tonight anyway?”
