50. Aspen
Chapter 50
Aspen
“ F irst impression—he’s good for you, Aspen. I can tell just by the way you guys interact with each other that you’re super comfortable together. And the chemistry is so hot I almost got burned,” Willow tells me privately after Grey and Maple leave for the dance floor.
I make a face at Willow.
“I’m serious!” she insists. “God, the way he looks at you? It’s clear that you mean the world to him. He adores you.”
“Riley looks at you the same.”
She smiles. “That’s how I know. And Grey is definitely very mellow and has a sense of humor about everything. That’s what you need, you know? Someone who can balance you out.”
I pretend to be saddened. “Damn.”
“That’s not what I meant, Aspy,” Willow says, eyes going wide. “You don’t need anyone and you certainly aren’t too uptight or high-strung or anything. And you definitely have a great sense of humor, it’s just that Grey has a sense of humor about life, not about certain things. And it’s just that, sometimes you can sometimes worry yourself into a panic and?—”
“Keep digging,” I tease. “Although, I can’t tell if it's my grave or yours.”
Willow groans. “None of this is coming out right. What I meant was?—”
I hold up a hand to silence her. “I know what you meant, Will, I’m just messing with you. I know better than anyone how stressed and in-my-head I can be.”
“Oh, thank God. I was worried you thought I was insulting you. That’s the opposite of what I meant to do.”
“I know. But I agree, he is good for me. He forces me out of my comfort zone while somehow also being my comfort zone. He has this ability to make everything seem okay, even if it’s like the middle of the apocalypse.”
“I can tell. He’s funny and seems very even-tempered.”
“It’s a good thing, for sure, but it can be aggravating.” I smile. “He’s so annoyingly smug and confident all the time. He’s permanently without a care in the world.”
“You carry enough cares for the both of you, I’m sure,” Willow responds.
“True. I guess I balance him out as much as he balances me out. I mean, seriously, what kind of moron breaks into a gated community in broad daylight?”
“Hey, it worked on you, didn’t it?”
“Does that say more about me than it does about him?” I muse.
Willow smiles. “Probably.”
“You look amazing, by the way,” I say after a beat of comfortable silence. “I’ve been meaning to tell you; I can’t take my eyes off that dress. Where did you get it? It’s like heaven-spun or something.”
The mini-dress Willow’s sporting tonight is simple, yet luxurious. The cut is a plain and straight-cut, but the fabric is what makes the dress—it’s opalescent and creamy, like a wearable pearl. In fact, the fabric is so radiant that any elaborate cut would be distracting rather than enhancing.
Her hair is up in a loose chignon and the only accessory she has is a golden chain, so thin it's hardly there, around her neck and a matching bracelet around her wrist.
She laughs. “I actually found this fabric somewhere during fashion week and brought it home with me. I was planning on having it embroidered in some way, but Heena insisted I leave it plain. She took it upon herself to design this dress pattern and sewed it herself. It was an early birthday gift.”
“Holy shit, no way,” I praise, admiring the dress in a whole new light now. “I really thought it was designer.”
“The one and only piece by Heena-designs,” she adds, all in one breath, “Plus, I thought tonight would be the best occasion to wear it because it's not revealing or over-the-top so it doesn’t risk stealing your spotlight—in terms of most talked-about dress, since I know you usually dress more conservatively—but also, it's stunning enough to meet the occasion.”
“It was the perfect choice. You look straight out of a magazine.”
“And you look straight out of a movie,” she jokes, poking fun at our model and actress jobs.
“What are you girls doing here hiding away like wallflowers?” Mom asks, walking up to us on Dad’s arm. “Come join the party.”
“Mom, we’re at the party.”
Dad looks from me to Willow. “Doesn’t look like much of a party.”
“What would you rather us do?” I ask.
“Dance, drink, hell, even doing a line of coke would be more fitting for the occasion than just gossiping with your sister, whom you see regularly,” Mom answers.
Willow and I gasp in unison. “Mom!”
“I’m kidding. Mostly. But seriously, it’s the wrap party for your first movie. Act alive!”
Speaking of acting alive, Grey, Maple, and two people I recognize from photos as Grey’s brother, Piers, and his sister-in-law, Julie, walk up. They’re all talking animatedly and holding champagne flutes.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Mom says. “But not for you,” she adds, snatching Maple’s glass for herself.
Maple whines in protest.
Piers and Julie look from me to Willow, clearly trying to figure out which one is me.
“Hi,” I say, helping them out. “I’m Aspen.”
“I’m Julie, and this is my husband, Piers. We’ve heard so much about you, it’s great to finally meet you in person,” Julie says, pulling me into a loose hug.
“You must be a saint if you can put up with Grey,” Piers jokes, hugging me as well.
My dad laughs. “He’s equally a saint if he can put up with our Aspen.”
“Dad,” I groan.
“You’re just high maintenance, honey. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
Grey chuckles also, wrapping an arm around my waist. “She is. You should’ve seen how much money I spent on alpaca yarn for her the other day.”
“Hey, that was luxury, homespun yarn from a small business owner. And how much are you making from this movie?” I tease.
“Wait, they’re paying you?” Grey jokes back.
“Paying me to date you, sure,” I reply with a wink.
Everyone laughs, including my parents, even though they’re the only two here who don’t understand the truth behind the joke.