26. On The Way Down #3
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.
My confusion must be palpable, because Sarah nods towards the front windows, her voice considerably lower. “Mr. Rivers covered the expense.”
Again, huh?
A few minutes later, when I’ve changed back into my own clothes, I exit the boutique with my shopping bag in hand and my mind in a daze—something Jase Rivers is an expert at putting me into today.
I immediately spot him on the sidewalk, two shops down, talking on his phone.
When he sees me, he makes his way back over with a couple of soda bottles in hand.
“Yeah, man. I’ve gotta run, but call me when you have something,” he says, wrapping up the conversation and extending one of the Dr. Peppers to me.
I don’t take it. “What’re you doing?”
He lowers the phone and looks around, confused. “Not sure if you noticed, but traffic’s pretty bad right now. It’s going to be a pain in the ass driving to the gas station, so I figured we could go on foot. And the drink’s to help cool you off.”
In this, he’s not wrong. Traffic along the main drag is bumper to bumper, as it looks like one of the stop lights down the road is out.
“I meant this .” I raise the shopping bag.
“You’re driving around in a car that costs less than my phone, yet you’re buying me a dress that costs more than my entire closet?
” And one I’ll be wearing on a date with someone else…
I don’t add that last part, but I may as well have by the look on his face.
I can’t even begin to contemplate how Jase could possibly afford this.
And after what he said last night, I can only imagine that this is some kind of power play, to force me into thinking about him while I’m on my date with Wes.
He must be psychic, because he holds up his hands, the bottles secured only by his thumbs. “Think of it as my attempt at a peace offering. I was a dick last night, and I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
I notice he’s not apologizing for his actions , but he’s looking at me in earnest, so I take one of the bottles and begin making my way down the street towards the nearest gas station. “Thank you.”
We fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence as we head along the sidewalk, or at least it would be if not for the stares.
After what happened senior year, I’m more than familiar with the looks being thrown our way. That doesn’t make it any easier, how uncomfortable some people look or the way others whisper and snicker to their friends. It’s enough to trigger my PTSD…
Only, those stares aren’t directed at me.
I doubt word spread this quickly from the boutique, since the looks being leveled at Jase aren’t that many.
Not to mention, they’re all from people around our own age.
But word has gotten out no less. It’s only a matter of time before it spreads to the upper echelon of the rumor mill.
Much to Blythe’s impending rage, I have a feeling everyone in town will know who Jase really is long before the wedding.
Although, I doubt that he particularly cares, especially not at the moment. His cell rings, and I catch the name “Natasha” and her accompanying picture on the screen as he answers it.
The girl from Murdock’s.
I know I shouldn’t care, especially when I’m carrying a bag containing a dress for my own date, but hearing him confirm to her that they’re “on for Friday night” feels like a boulder has been dropped into my stomach.