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One thing I know for sure is that they may be right when it comes to Carissa. She accepts my gifts, but I know she isn’t friends with me because of them.
There’s more depth to her that I struggle to reach. She seems to know exactly what she wants and stands on it.
I have very rarely encountered women like her, and when I have, I thought they were just boring cock blockers.
While getting to know Carissa, I can admit for the first time that I’ve been wrong.
I close my laptop, ready to win Carissa over, guided not just by online wisdom but by my feelings toward her.
My phone beeps, indicating a message from her reminding me of our dinner at TrayFare.
I quickly open my laptop and scroll through fashion websites, searching for the ideal dress for her. She has to accompany me to the event.
Usually, I leave things like this to my assistant, but what do you do when your assistant is your love interest?
I navigate through a myriad of styles, colors, and designs, each one offering a different promise of beauty.
I need the dress to reflect her personality, or at least the one that I have made up about her in my head–angel by day, seductress by night–and make her stand out tonight.
After what feels like hours of careful consideration, I stumble upon a dress that feels just right. The one.
I can’t wait to see her wear it tonight.
Just watching her dazzle in these outfits that I get for her makes me very happy and ultimately boosts my ego.
In a few hours, Carissa calls back.
“I didn't know I would be attending the event with you,” she says over the phone. I can’t tell if she’s surprised or disappointed.
“Now you know. You’re my plus one and that’s part of your job description,” I respond, trying to maintain my stance.
I hear her tiny giggle that sounds as if she is trying to muffle it with her hands.
“Well, you must let me know beforehand next time. The dress… It’s absolutely beautiful. I wonder who picked it out for you,” she says curiously.
I walk over to the bar and pour myself a drink.
“What if I tell you I picked it myself?”
She hesitates before she responds, “I doubt that. It’s just too incredible a taste of fashion. I doubt that a man would know anything about that.”
Well, you have no idea.
“If you pay me, I’ll be your stylist exclusively forever,” I squeeze in there, hoping she notices that I’m hinting at flirting with her.
“Jokes on you. You’d have to give me a raise then,” she says after a quick laugh. “Seriously, Jayden, thank you so much. I love the dress and the shoes.”
“See you there.”
I feel a mix of disappointment and frustration as I arrive late to the event.
I was hoping to make an entrance with Carissa in my arms, her elegance complimenting my presence.
Unfortunately, I had been held back by a meeting and she had to go alone, ahead of me. It was a situation I didn't expect, and I know she must have been left to handle the situation alone with little communication from me.
I scan the crowd as soon as I walk in the room, searching for her among the guests.
“Jayden.”
