Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s wishful thinking.
I only open my door a crack to get someone’s attention, and the two sales associates abruptly end their conversation, practically jumping back from one another. I know I shouldn’t care, but I find my heart sinking into my stomach once I’m zipped up and exiting the dressing room.
The five minutes I spent in there proved sufficient for the gossip train to run its course, if the whispers and stares in Jase’s direction are any indication. Not that he would notice.
Jase is the only male not using his phone, at least at the moment, because the second he looks up from his screen to see me, it slips right out of his hands and hits the floor.
And I don’t think he notices, either.
It’s honestly the most adorable reaction I’ve ever seen, even if it is coming from him, and I can’t fight back my smile. I turn away in favor of the three-section mirror before he can see me, but again, it’s a mirror. Jase can see my reflection perfectly well, not to mention the blush spreading across my cheeks.
Seriously, stop it, Ali! It looks like you care what he thinks, and youdon’t.
My internal scolding doesn’t do me any good, and I just pray I can blame my reaction tohisreaction on the fact that I’m suddenly getting a lot more attention.
Candice and the woman responsible for doing alterations immediately begin gushing, confirming again that my reflection in the dressing room wasn’t lying. The girls look great, the gown hugs every curve, and I’m not shy to admit that my ass looks fantastic.
“Talk about fitting you like a glove. There’s barely any work that needs to be done,” both women say, pinching the smallest amount of fabric in only a few areas.
The teenager lets out a wolf whistle, immediately receiving a light smack to the chest from his father, and I laugh. That is, until I see Jase finally recover his wits and grab his phone off the ground. I can’t read his expression in the mirror, but the way he picks it up, almost in slow motion, I’m worried that maybe his screen cracked. It sounds stupid, since it was barely a fall, and the cell landed on the plush carpet, but the model is old, and maybe there was already a crack in it I hadn’t seen. Perhaps it made it worse.
But then why is Jase pulling outmyphone? Is it still in vibration mode? Is someone calling or messaging me? His eyes dart back and forth between the two screens, and as far as I can see in the reflection, mine is still black.
“Soooo,” Candice coos, her previous giddiness back in place, “do you know where young Mr. Holbrooke is taking you Friday?”
That definitely brings my attention back in front of me, and I’m not the only one. Jase’s eyes snap up, catching mine in the mirror briefly before I force myself to look at Candice.
“Uh, Colmár.” It comes out more like a question, because I’m not sure if I’m even pronouncing the name correctly. I’ve never heard of the restaurant before, and when I pulled up the information for it on my phone, there wasn’t much on the place.
Candice, Sarah, and the tailor all gawk at me like I just said Wes is taking me to the moon, but I guess it’s not that far off. Apparently, the restaurant opened this past spring, and reservations have to be mademonthsin advance to get through the door…unless your last name is Holbrooke, that is.
“Well, that settles that.” Candice swoops back over to me with a little black dress in her arms. “You’ll definitely be needing this.”
I dare a peek at the price tag and almost choke. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, really—”
Candice waves me off. “Of course it is. This is a Holbrooke we’re talking about. Play your cards right and listen to your Auntie Candice, and you’ll be trying on dresses intherenext summer.” She indicates the large bridal changing room, only making my cheeks burn redder.
No, Candice isn’t actually related to me, and no, I’m not looking to get married anytime in the near future, even if the groom apparently has enough money to buy half of Europe.
As the tailor finishes her work with me, I keep trying to tell Candice the black dress isn’t “exactly” in my budget, but she won’t take no for an answer. She thrusts the garment into my hands and practically shoves me back into my dressing room.
All I can do is pray that the design is unflattering, but God apparently doesn’t feel like listening. Once again, it looks as if it was already tailored for me, though where the bridesmaid dress made me feel sexy, this makes me feel like I’m playing dress up. The skirt comes down just short of my knees, and I spin around in it, hoping to find some blatant flaw so I can change back out of it.
But there’s nothing. Not one thing is inherently wrong with the dress.
It’s very pretty. It just looks like I stole it from Blythe or Vanessa.
Once again, everybody wants a preview, so I’m forced to exit the dressing room to show off the design, hoping someone else will find something wrong that I didn’t catch.
No such luck.
I’m partly relieved to find Jase’s seat empty, but he’s likely the only person in the boutique who would voice his honest opinion if he saw anything he didn’t like. Everybody else raves, insisting that I get it, forcing me to address the same elephant in the room from ten minutes ago.
Pointing out once more that I can’t pay for something this expensive, my jaw is left dangling just above my shoes when Sarah assures me, “It’s already been paid for.”
Huh?
Blythe no doubt has some kind of account here, as she does with many of the boutiques and salons she frequents. But there’s no way in hell the Stepmonster approved this purchase. She’d sooner buy me a garbage bag.
