Chapter 5
Biannca
Why are all fancy gowns sleeveless? Or the ones that have sleeves make me look like I belong in the Victorian era?
Someone as clumsy as me is littered with random bruises. But how does one explain that to a stranger that you’re potentially trying to impress? Or at the very least, not seem utterly ridiculous in front of.
With a heavy sigh, I pull off yet another dress that simply won’t work. “Lo, are you sure I have to go this fancy?”
I can practically hear her eye roll through the changing room door. “The gala is black tie, is it not?”
“It is.” Why do I sound like a kid who got caught feeding the dog from the dinner table?
“Then yes, you have to go this fancy. Here—” she shoves the door open and holds a long sparkly black dress through the opening. “Try this one.”
Hanging my head, I take yet another dress. There’s barely even room on the hooks for everything I’ve tried on. Logan is happy to pass the dresses my way but she won’t take the nos out until I either find “the one” or she gets to see me and agree with my rejection. Which she hasn’t yet.
“What am I supposed to do about the bruises? I look like a walking accident.” Though, honestly, that’s really what I am.
“That’s what makeup is for, babe.”
“You want me to wear makeup on my arms? Won’t that rub off on his jacket or something?” I lift the straps to my shoulders and turn each way, taking myself in. This dress definitely isn’t bad. In fact, it might actually be good. Though, the back dips a bit lower than I’d normally wear.
“No, I want you to be less of a clumsy mess but it’s a little late for that at this point.”
Logan has been my best friend for over twenty years. She’s the sister I never had. Or wanted. Though, maybe I never wanted one because she was filling that space in her own way.
Squaring my shoulders, I open the door to the dressing room for the first time since I walked in here almost two hours ago.
Instead of the bright eyes and happiness I was hoping to see, a scrutinizing gaze is set on me while she inspects the garment.
“I’m worried the back is a little too low. Too…revealing for a work function.”
“It’s a designer gown. Meant to be worn to events like this one. Plus, wear your hair down and it will mostly cover it.” She keeps walking around me, inspecting things, putting her hands on my hips and touching the straps.
“Okay, but what about my date? Will he think it’s too skimpy? An invitation I’m not really sure I’m giving just yet?” We’ve been messaging daily for over two weeks now, and E.J. seems cool. Genuine. But I still don’t know him from Adam.
“I still don’t know why you didn’t just ask Ethan.” When I told her I’d not only signed up for an app that helps you find a date for a holiday event, but also had found said date, many emotions filtered through her rant. Namely confusion.
“Really? You don’t?”
“Obviously I’ve heard your tales of woe and that you don’t want to shit where you eat and yada yada. But sometimes that works out for you.” The overly thorough inspection of the dress continues. I’m not sure what she’s looking for nor if she’s found it.
“Yeah, for you.” Logan has a true romance story for her life.
Ten years ago, fresh out of college, she started working for a local company.
Pretty early on she caught the attention of the CEO, but not in a good way.
She had run her mouth, as she’s always been inclined to do, and ended up in a meeting with him and HR.
She was sure she was going to get fired. But when she talked with Jason, he apparently was completely captivated by her and the lack of filter she has. The impulsivity and the way she stood up for herself. Most importantly, the fact that she had the gusto to talk back to him.
Five years ago she married said CEO, Jason, in a giant extravagant wedding that cost more than I’ll ever see in my lifetime.
A ping from my phone has me leaping toward the chairs before Logan can get a word in. I chew my cuticle with a smile on my face as I read the message from E.J.
E.J.: Tell my why I let you talk me into reading this series when IT’S NOT FINISHED YET.
Several angry face emojis follow the text and I can’t quite stifle the laugh from bubbling out of me.
“You guys talk about books?”
I jump, a hand flying to my chest as I peer over my shoulder at Logan, who snuck up to stand no less than a hair’s width behind me.
“For fuck’s sake, announce yourself when you get this close, would you?”
“What fun would that be?”
Though I try to fight the eyeroll, I fail miserably. “Yes, we talk about books. Some of us actually enjoy reading.”
She pats my head in the patronizing manner that only Logan gets away with. “Yes, my little bibliophile. I’m aware. And I have been known to enjoy a book from time to time. What I mean is, how are you getting to know each other if you’re just talking books?”
“We’re not just talking books. But you’d be surprised what you can learn about someone based off what they read.” My voice comes out a little hesitant. It’s not that I’m unsure, it’s more that I don’t know why I feel like I need to defend myself.
“And what have you learned?” The softness to her tone makes the tension seep from my shoulders, the defensiveness leaving me on a breath.
“Facts about him? Not terribly many. But I’ve learned that he’s well read, he’s kind and genuine in our interactions.
He has a sense of humor that I appreciate.
And there’s an underlying sweetness and sensitivity to him.
” One shoulder lifts with as much nonchalance as I can muster, even though everything inside me is fluttering wildly.
It should be strange, off, feel wrong. But part of me is comfortable with this…stranger. There’s a bond, a connection that I haven’t felt before and we only know each other through bits and pieces of messaged conversation.
The intrigue I initially felt has exploded and taken over. It goes far beyond that now. Beyond even mere interest. There’s a deep…need it feels like. To know E.J. and more than through just messaging.
There were times in the passed two weeks where I wish I had made a different choice, had opted to meet him in person. But the gala is only a few days away now. And our face-to-face looms ever closer.
“Well, at the very least, we found you a dress.”
My brows stitch together and then my chin drops to trail my gaze down my body. “This one?”
“Mhm. It’s the first—nay only—dress you’ve shown me in—” she flicks her wrist so her watch lights up “—three hours.”
Shit, time flies when you’re trying on dress after dress after hopeless dress.
“You don’t think it’s too—” Lo’s hand held up has me pulling me teeth between my lips.
“We already went over the dip in the back. It’s not so low that it’s inappropriate for a work function. And it hugs your curves beautifully. You’ll make this E.J. drool in seconds. At least, if he has half a brain.”
“I was going to say, too sparkly.”
Her eye roll is so heavy and dramatic I feel ready to hand her this years Oscar for best actress. “Is there such a thing as too much when it comes to glitz?”
“Over the age of seven?” I glance down at the dress again. It’s not that it’s a lot of glitz. It’s a stunning dress. But is it right for me?
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Logan drops her head and mumbles something under her breath in the Yiddish her grandmother used to be speak around her house growing up.
Then she calmly presses her palms together.
“Biannca, my love, it’s a fashion statement.
Evening gowns are meant to be. The idea is to stand out.
I know that might make you uncomfortable, but you won’t be the only one in a gown such as this.
Please, just trust me. Have I ever lead you wrong? ”
She has point there. In all the years we’ve been friends, Logan has been my strongest defender, my best friend, my sister, and a million other things. But never once has she lead me astray, in fashion, relationships, or just general life advice.
And knowing me as well as she does, she sees the moment I accept that this is the dress, planting her hands on my shoulders and spinning me back toward the dressing room. “Lovely, now go change. I’m starving.” A firm pat on my butt is my parting gift as I cross to the fitting room.
Once out of the room, back in my jeans and t-shirt, Logan takes the dress from arms and marches toward the front to check out.
We had a heated argument on our way here and throughout the first hour about her paying.
But since she practically kidnapped me to bring to this specific dress store that’s leagues out of my budget, I gave in to her demands.
I also learned a long time ago it was easier that way.
And who am I to say no to a gorgeous evening gown that I don’t have to pay a penny for.
I pull my phone from my purse and gnaw on my lower lip. E.J’s message is waiting for an answer.
Biannca: Sorry. Is that a bad thing? I take it that means you’ve enjoyed it so far.
E.J.: We are no longer on speaking terms. You betrayed my trust as a reader. Everyone knows it’s a cruel joke to get someone invested in an unfinished series.
Dread pools in my stomach and the blood slowly drains from my face. Is he calling this off? Maybe I can stop Logan from finalizing the purchase and just…not go. Feign illness.
E.J.: I will of course still escort you to your event. And even make pleasantries with you. But know, deep below it all, I’m holding a grudge.
My lips pull up in smile and everything in my chest flutters. Whatever this is, I want more of it.