23. Isla
Chapter 23
Isla
“N o, no, absolutely not.”
Elaine tosses another dress onto the growing pile on my bed. “You are not wearing a cardigan to Couples’ Bingo Night. This is your debut as Frosthaven’s hottest new couple!”
My bedroom looks like a clothing tornado tore through it. Dresses, blouses, and skirts strewed across every surface, helpless casualties of Elaine’s relentless quest for the perfect outfit.
“It’s not a debut,” I protest weakly. “It’s just bingo. With Asher. My friend.”
“Exactly why you need to remind him you’re a woman, not just his friend.” Elaine emerges from my closet with a triumphant “Aha!” and a dress I forgot I owned.
Roxanne takes a bite of the cookie Elaine baked, lounging far too comfortably in my mint sofa chair.
I stare at the cookie in her hand, silently willing her to not leave crumbs on my favorite piece of furniture. That mint sofa chair is practically sacred territory. Asher found it for me at an estate sale last year when I mentioned—once, mind you, in passing—that I was looking for something comfy but not beige. Two days later, he texted me a picture with the caption, “Mint condition. Literally.” I nearly hyperventilated from excitement.
She swallows the rest of the cookies. “I think what Ellie means is that just because this is pretend doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.”
“Exactly!” Elaine spins toward me, eyes gleaming. “When was the last time you actually dressed up for a date?”
“Kyle’s birthday last—”
“Kyle doesn’t count,” they said in unison.
“Okay, but Asher doesn’t count either.” I sigh and flop back onto my bed. “And I made a list of rules.”
Elaine pulls out another dress, barely glancing up. “Of course you did. Let me guess. Rule number one: No falling in love with the ridiculously attractive best friend who’s clearly been in love with you since the dawn of time?”
“Are you guys going to kiss?” Roxanne raises an eyebrow like she’s conducting a very serious investigation.
“I bet they are.” Elaine says.
“Oh my goodness. You guys. I am not going to kiss Asher.”
And I won’t think about it. Definitely not about how close we were to actually kissing. Because that’s the line— the line. Once I cross it, there’s no going back.
Although . . . for purely scientific purposes, it would be nice to know. You know, just for the data. Research is important. Would he be the slow, teasing type? The kind to take his time, dragging it out, savoring every second? Or would he go all in, like a man on a mission, kissing me like I’m the last oxygen source on Earth and he’s been stranded in space for a very long time?
I’ve always thought soft and sweet would be my thing, but . . . a little intensity never hurt anyone, right? A firm hand on the waist? A teasing graze of his fingers? Maybe a little breathless whisper of my name in between—OH MY GOSH, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
And how do I even respond? Stay perfectly still, like I have excellent self-control and am definitely not affected? Or do I kiss him back the way I want to, like I’ve been secretly thinking about for way too long? What if I mess it up? What if I look like a fish gasping for air? What if I—oh no.
What if I suck at kissing?
What if Asher regrets it immediately? What if he pulls away, sighs heavily, pats my head like a disappointed teacher?
Abort. ABORT.
My cheeks are boiling. I probably look like a stop sign. I need to stop. Right now.
Besides, we’d have to look each other in the eye afterward. Acknowledge it happened. And then what? Go back to being just friends? Pretend it was part of our little charade? I might as well set our twenty-year friendship on fire, toast some marshmallows, and call it a night.
“What are you thinking right now, Izzy?” Roxanne leans in and pokes my cheek. “Because you look like a tomato in a crisis.”
“She’s definitely imagining kissing Asher.” Elaine’s grin is way too smug. “Look at her. She’s practically mapping out their entire honeymoon in her head.”
“I am not!” I grab a pillow and hug it to my chest like it’s some kind of shield against my completely traitorous thoughts. “I’m thinking about . . . bingo strategies.”
“Mmhmm,” Roxanne nods. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“You know,” Elaine plops down next to me on the bed, “if you really want, you can just pretend it’s fake. It’s a safe exit.”
“It’s really not ethical.” I clutch my pillow tighter, considering launching it at her head.
What I don’t tell them is . . . that’s exactly what I want to do. Let myself feel what it would be like to be his girlfriend. In a way, it’s like finally living out that childhood dream.
Without the consequences. Without the real breakup.
“Works for people who are too afraid,” she singsongs.
“Excuse me?” I gape at her. “I am not afraid.”
Elaine just gives me a slow blink. Like the time at Roxanne’s birthday party when I spent forty-five minutes in the bathroom after Asher brought a date, insisting I had sudden onset food poisoning despite having eaten nothing but crackers all night.
Roxanne moves to sit beside me on the bed. “So if Asher, let’s say, hypothetically leans in to kiss you, you wouldn’t flinch and panic?”
“I—I wouldn’t panic!”
“Mmm, sure.”
I let out a strangled groan and shove my face into my pillow. “I know. I know.” My voice is muffled. “I am afraid. I am a gigantic, cowardly person. But I can’t help it.”
I pull the pillow tighter around my head and scream into it.
Roxanne shifts closer, resting a hand on my back. “It’s okay, we know. We’re not telling you what to do. We just want you to be happy. We want you to have the kind of love you help other people find.”
Elaine exhales, quieter now. “Maybe sometimes, the pain of missing out on something great forever is worse than the pain of getting hurt by someone who was never meant to stay.”
I turn my head just enough to peek at her. “Have you ever?”
Suspicious.
Her gaze flicks to the side. Mochi jumps up next to her, and she absently runs a hand over his fur. I should interrogate Conner. Did he do something to Elaine? Is there something between them that I’ve completely missed? It might not be Conner at all. But the way she and my brother always seem to spark like a match to gasoline?
Yeah. Very suspicious.
I guess I wouldn’t know, though. I’ve spent so much of my time wrapped up in Asher that I might have missed some things.
“Rationally speaking,” Roxanne says, “not everyone’s the same. And maybe all the failures before were just preparing you to meet the right person.” She gives my arm a little squeeze. “But it’s okay. We just want you to be happy. And no matter what, we’ll always be here.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I pull them both into a hug. “Thank you.”
Elaine pulls back first, flipping her hair dramatically. “But we are still going to make you look so gorgeous that Asher won’t be able to look anywhere else.”
“And,” Roxanne chimes in, “if you happen to kiss him, you have to tell us how it really feels. I love a good friends-to-lovers story.”
I groan and flop onto my back. “Can we please focus on the actual crisis? Like, which dress I’m supposed to wear?”
“Sure, sure,” Elaine says, waving me off as she dives back into the mountain of dresses.
We sift through the mess, picking up dresses tossed across the room and eyeing the ones still hanging in my closet.
“These are very not like you.” Elaine pulls out a few pieces and holds them up with a skeptical look. “I didn’t even realize you owned these kinds of dresses.”
“She did,” Roxanne says, plucking a dress straight from Elaine’s hands. “She wore them around Kyle.”
I blink at Roxanne. Wow. She has such good observation skills.
After months of Kyle’s helpful suggestions about my wardrobe, I don’t even trust my own taste anymore.
That color washes you out. That style is so last season. No one wears that anymore, Isla.
So I tried. I bought the clothes he said looked classier, the ones that fit better, the ones he’d approve of. And yet, I still didn’t get it.
Which is why I always turned to Asher for his help. He had a better grasp of Kyle’s preferred aesthetic than I did. And, somehow, anything Asher picked out for me led to less criticism. I was happy at that time, but now it seems weird why I chose to stay with Kyle.
“How about this one?” Elaine held up a sapphire wrap dress. “It will bring out your eyes.”
“The pink,” Roxanne gestures to another dress on my bed. “It’s sweeter.”
Mochi, sprawled across the pile of discarded dresses like he’s the reigning king of fashion disasters, stretches luxuriously and lets out an unhelpful yawn.
“I don’t know . . .” I twist my hands together. “I should just wear—”
“If you say cardigan one more time,” Elaine threatens with the dress hanger.
“Let’s ask Asher.” I grab my phone and hit speed dial. “He always knows.”
“This is weird,” Elaine said.
“I wouldn’t,” Roxanne shakes her head.
Too late. Asher picks up on the first ring. His low voice coming through the speaker. “Hey, Isla.”
Okay, this does feel a bit weird.
Do people normally ask their best friend, who just so happens to be their fake boyfriend, what to wear for their first fake date?
That feels like a lot. Like, psychological thesis levels of unpacking. Does that mean he’ll know I care a lot about what he thinks? That I’m actively trying to impress my date, who happens to be him?
This isn’t weird at all. Not one bit.
“Um . . .” I hesitate, earning synchronized eye rolls from both of my traitorous friends. “Hypothetically . . . if someone was going to Couples’ Bingo Night, would they wear blue or pink?”
“Hypothetically?” I can hear his grin. “Would this hypothetical person happen to be my girlfriend who’s overthinking her outfit right now?”
Roxanne and Elaine dissolve into giggles.
“Never mind, I—”
“Let me guess. You’ve been trying on clothes for at least an hour.” His warm chuckle fills the room.
“I have not!”
Elaine points to the clock. Two hours have passed.
Betrayal.
Asher chuckles. “Sure. Need me to come over and help you decide?”
“I guess . . . sure.”
“No!” Elaine and Roxanne shriek in perfect unison, so loudly that Mochi jolts awake and tumbles off his dress throne in pure panic.
“You can’t see her until she’s ready,” Elaine calls toward the phone. “It’s like a wedding!”
“This is not a wedding!” I buried my head under my palms.
“I’m here.” Asher’s voice comes through both the phone and my front door as he knocks.
“Just let yourself in,” I tell him, and hang up the phone.
He presses the password and opens my door. He walks into my bedroom wearing snug navy Henley and dark, perfectly fitted jeans that sit just right on his hips.
His lips twitch as he surveys the mountain of discarded dresses like a fashion crime scene. And then his eyes find me.
“Oh good, you haven’t changed yet,” he says, moving toward my closet. Mochi trots after him, tail wagging.
“What are you doing?”
Asher doesn’t answer. He just steps deeper into my closet, reaching for something in the back. His broad shoulders practically fill the doorway. And I get a side view of him, taking in just how solid he is. Not overly bulky, but strong in that effortless, could-probably-carry-me-with-one-arm kind of way.
Which is not something I should be thinking about right now. Or ever.
But every angle of him is just so unfairly perfect. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of watching him.
“Looking for—” his hand stops, “this.”
My breath catches as he pulls out the mint-colored dress I’d hidden away months ago. It’s simple but elegant, with a sweetheart neckline and flowing skirt that always made me feel like dancing.
“This is new,” I whisper, fingers reaching out to touch the soft fabric. “I bought it last year for—” I stop, the memory of Kyle’s dismissive look still stinging.
Mint green is so tacky, Isla. No one wears that color anymore. The dress had stayed in the back of my closet with the tags still on, never worn.
“Spring festival.” His deep voice rumbles through the space between us. The dress drapes over his well-defined arm as he examines the tag. “Still new.”
Elaine and Roxanne exchange a look and start sneaking out of my bedroom like cartoon villains in perfect synchronization. Even Mochi tiptoes after them, his little paws barely making a sound. Elaine blows me a kiss before leaving my bedroom.
I whip around and glare at them, giving them my best warning look. I am so getting new friends.
“You love this color.” His muscles flex as he props one shoulder against my closet door frame.
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
“You said you’d wear it every day when you bought it.”
“Okay, to be fair, I also once said I’d eat nothing but waffles for a year, and that lasted two days.”
A slow smile tugs at his lips. “Turned out you never wore it.”
“You remember?”
“I remember a lot of things.” His voice drops lower. “Including when you stopped choosing for yourself.”
“So do you . . .” I stare at him, then at the dress, then back at him. “Do you like this dress?”
“Do you ?”
“Yes.” I grab my pillow and hide my face behind it.
“So wear it.” He pulls the pillow away and looks at me, really looks at me, like I’m something worth studying. “It makes you happy.”
“But don’t you think—”
“You make anything look beautiful.” His fingers skim lightly along my jaw. “But you are brightest when you’re happy. And that’s my favorite version of you. ”
I slap my hands over my burning face and spin around, unable to look at him. “Oh my goodness, Asher. Are you practicing for tonight already?”
There’s a long pause.
A creak of floorboards behind me. The scent of cedar and something uniquely him fills my senses. Heat radiates on my back, like standing too close to a fireplace in winter.
His warm breath ghosts across my ear, his lips so close I can almost feel them brushing against my skin.
“I’m just getting started.”
My spine snaps straight like I’ve just been zapped by lightning in the shape of a very inconveniently attractive man. A rush of tingles shoots from my spine to my fingertips.
I hold my breath, afraid to even blink. Moving feels like a terrible idea.
Asher laughs, resting both hands on my shoulders and turning me back to face him. “Besides, you could wear a paper bag and still be the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“I might just wear a paper bag, and then you’ll have to reconsider what you just said.” I swat his chest—ouch. Hard.
“And on that note,” Asher says, backing toward the door. “I’ll let you finish getting ready. Hope they haven’t left you alone.”
“Yes, we’re here!” Elaine pops her head in from the hallway, looking entirely not guilty for someone who’s clearly been eavesdropping.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to cool down and hide the fact that my cheeks are on fire.
“Can’t see the finished product until tonight, right?” Asher says, giving my friends a playful wink. “Pretty sure that’s like a wedding rule or something.”
“Yep! Remember the ring and everything,” Elaine winks back at him.
“I’ll try my best,” Asher says, way too amused. “See you at six.”
The door clicks shut behind him, but the warmth of his words lingers. I look at the dress he just picked, remembering how much I loved it before I let someone else’s opinion dim that joy.
“Well,” Elaine says after a moment, “I think we found your dress.”
“And your man,” Roxanne mutters under her breath.
“I will make you pay, Ellie.” I whip my head toward her. “Wait for me.”
“Don’t forget about Roxy.”
“Oh, trust me, I won’t.”
“Okay, time to make you gorgeous.” Roxanne grins before grabbing my arm and yanking me upright.