Chapter Five
Bethany
Prince Charming just asked me to the ball. I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.
“What did Chef Nick want to talk to you about?” Mandy asks when we meet in the hallway outside our classroom.
“I’m going to a Food Network thing at the Plaza Hotel with him.” My voice rings with shock and amazement.
“What!?” Mandy squeals. She grabs my hands and squeezes until I lose the feeling in my fingers. “Aren’t you on cloud nine?” she asks, searching my face for any trace of excitement.
The details are still sinking in, my brain slowly processing the fact that I’ve never been to an event like this before. A red-carpet, black-tie event that requires a dress fancier than any I currently own.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I say lamely.
My friend laughs. “We’re gonna go shopping.”
The ride back to my apartment is a blur. Thankfully, Mandy drove because I’m sure I would have ended up in New Jersey.
“Get some sleep and we’ll plan our shopping trip tomorrow!” Mandy exclaims when she drops me off outside my condo.
I give her a jolly wave, although I’m feeling anything but jolly. A nervous energy makes me feel jittery, like I drank twenty cups of coffee. My mind spins as I roll all the facts around in my brain.
He’s a celebrity. . . He’s overly attractive. . . He’s way out of my league. . .
A kindergarten teacher dating a star chef? Sounds like one of those made-for-TV romantic comedies, not my life. The girl with a last name that renders visions of breakfast meat is going to attend a fancy gala with the best-looking man she’s ever met? My hands sweat and my heart pounds at the mere thought.
Red carpet? I’ve never walked any carpet before other than the dull ugly tan one gracing my floors. On the other hand, this is an opportunity of a lifetime, and I need to prepare myself for it. A rush of adrenaline flows through my body. Rummaging through my closet, I find my sexiest high heels and start practice walking down the carpeted hallway. Cinderella is going to be ready for the ball.
***
My excitement wanes as I try on dress after dress at this high-end department store. I’ve got two more days to find something suitable and I wouldn’t be caught dead in some of these styles.
“Here! Try this one,” Mandy says in a breathless voice as she thrusts a hanger over the three-quarters door. She’s my runner between the racks of dresses and the dressing room.
“Maybe dress number twelve will be the lucky one,” I say in a sarcastic tone, holding out very little hope that this one will fit any better than the others. Between plunging necklines, short-short hemlines, and bodices or skirts that fit far too tight, I’ve discarded all but one dress so far. Glancing at the silver creation hanging on what Mandy dubbed as the “winner” hook, I cringe. If I wear that thing, I’ll look like a walking disco ball.
“You look fantastic in red,” Mandy comments as I pull the dress over my head. My brunette hair goes well with red; it’s one of my favorite colors.
I wiggle into the tight-fitting dress, and it eventually slides over my hips. Once I have it tugged into position, I look in the mirror and gasp.
“This dress looks good on me!” I squeak.
Mandy laughs. “It looks great on you.”
We both stare in the mirror and I take in every detail. The sweetheart neckline shows a hint of cleavage and exposes my shoulders, but most people would consider it modest and not too revealing. The hem hits me right above my knees, showing off my legs, and I won’t feel self-conscious when I sit down. The silky fabric hugs my curves and surprisingly I can move around in the dress and not feel like I’m going to rip a seam.
“Oh, my goodness! I think we have a winner.” I blink back tears of relief. At least I won’t look like a disco ball on the red carpet.
“Nick is going to love you in that ,” Mandy enthuses.
Part of me can’t wait for his reaction. The other part of me still wonders if I’m just masquerading as Cinderella and I don’t belong on the celebrity’s arm at a fancy gala.