5. Meghan
FIVE
Meghan
TWO HOURS EARLIER
A lex and I stand in my living room, surveying the items she’s brought with her. My hair is in the rollers she insisted I put in, and I’m dressed in my usual house clothes of sleep shorts and a strappy top. Alex is dressed like she’s headed to the gym in a matching burgundy sports bra and leggings.
The dress is laid over the back of my second-hand jade green couch, making it look cheaper than it already does, and the dress bag is discarded on the floor by Alex’s sneaker-clad feet.
She unveiled it in a flourish, like a proud mother hen and her smile didn’t fade, even as my eyes widened and my mouth hung open in shock. I’ve not been able to utter a single word to her. I’m grateful that she’s been content to let me process the scrap of material she’s expecting me to wear.
My gaze darts between the dress, the death trap heels, and the matching clutch bag. This must have cost her a small fortune. I’m not wearing it. It’s all going to go to waste unless Alex wears it, which isn’t likely seeing as we haven’t been the same size since high school.
The thought of stepping outside wearing it is giving me palpitations and I press my hand to my chest in an effort to ease my racing heart.
When I was nineteen, and working in a diner not far from my childhood home, we had a uniform of tight white tank tops and denim shorts.
After dropping out of college, I took the first job that was paying a decent enough wage to allow me to move out of my parents’ house and gain some form of independence, like I’d had in college.
I only worked at the diner for four months before I couldn’t take any more. Men old enough to be my dad were trying to grope me, and even on occasion waiting for me after my shift.
The thought of being the center of attention causes a physical reaction in me. I know that I need to stop allowing my past to dictate my future, because I’m older and wiser now. I’m just not sure I’m ready for tonight to be the night that I do.
Turning to face Alex, I resolve to try one final time to get out of wearing the outfit she’s brought.
“Alex, please. I can’t wear this dress. Everyone will stare at me, and you know I can’t handle that.
I’ll do anything you want, just don’t make me wear it…
please.” I give her my best puppy dog eyes.
I’m about five seconds aw ay from getting on my knees and begging her at this point.
She folds her arms across her chest as if to make sure I can’t penetrate her hard exterior with my pleas. “You promised me. You said I could pick your outfit and that you would wear it. No arguments.”
“I know, but this is so far from what I’d normally wear, it’s not fair!”
She beams at me as she wiggles on the spot in triumph. Oh God, she’s going to pull out her ace card. “Do you remember that time I got you out of having to talk to that creepy guy, Dustin, from The Dive? Well, I’m also calling in the favor you promised me then.”
Urgh.
I know she has a point and I remember telling her that if I say no, she should stick to her guns.
And I guess I owe her for the Dustin situation, but…
that’s not the point. I don’t want to stick out, not tonight.
Not when everyone we work with is going to be there.
I’d feel much safer wearing this to a New Year’s Eve party or something.
Why can’t she just agree with me and let me off the hook for the promise?
“I know, but I thought you would pick something more... me.” I let out an exasperated breath. I’m panicking now. With one hand on my forehead and one on my waist, I pace up and down my small apartment lounge, careful not to bang my shin on the low oak coffee table.
I can’t wear this dress .
It’s too... sexy.
Too risky.
Too flashy.
Too… everything .
I’m close to hyperventilating when a shot of tequila is thrust under my nose. Grabbing it, I toss it back, so distracted with my panic that I don’t register the burn.
Alex refills the glass and I throw the second shot back before I start to feel the buzz from the alcohol. Holding my glass out for another, I try to burn a hole in the dress with my gaze.
I know I’m going to end up wearing it tonight.
Ultimately, I do know I need to step out of my comfort zone and stop allowing my past to have such a strong hold over me. I want to be bold and brave enough to wear clothes that make me feel desirable.
“Just try it on and then we can see if you still feel the same way,” Alex suggests as she fills my glass up again. Placing the bottle on the side table next to the couch, she rests her hands on my shoulders as I throw back the clear liquid.
I really should’ve eaten something.
Maybe I can have a snack before we leave.
“Meghan.” I lift my gaze to Alex as she calls my name.
“You need to realize that you are a beautiful woman who needs to stop hiding her beauty under frumpy, oversized clothes that do nothing for her figure. You have a figure that most women would kill for. I mean, come on, you look like a young Pamela Anderson.” Alex pushes the dress and shoes into my hand and turns me toward my bathroom.
I swipe the tequila bottle off of the side table as Alex pushes me toward the bathroom with a friendly shove to my back. Letting out a heavy sigh, I take a generous swig directly from the bottle before placing it on the counter along with my no longer needed shot glass.
“That’s my girl.” I hear Alex chuckle through the closed door as I turn on the shower and, even though she can’t see me, I roll my eyes at her smugness.
She hasn’t won yet.
Placing the dress on the back of the door, I sit on the toilet seat lid and stare at it before picking up the tequila bottle and taking several deep swigs.
Can I do this?
I stand on slightly unstable legs and nod firmly. Yes, I can.
Yes, I can , I chant to myself as I shower.
Scrubbed clean and smelling of strawberries, I step out of the shower and dry myself with one of the few luxuries I afford myself, a large fluffy white towel.
Even rubbing the soft material over my body doesn’t distract me from the dress that’s taunting me on the back of the door. My gaze keeps drifting to it until I turn my back to finish drying myself.
Swiping the bottle from the counter, I take one final swig, because if I drink much more we won’t be going anywhere. Blindly, I put the bottle back before I grab the dress off of the hanger and step into it.
The silky fabric rubs over my sensitive skin as I pull the dress up my body before slipping my arms into the straps. Finding the zipper under my arm, I zip myself into the almost skintight dress.
My suspicions are confirmed as I look at my reflection. It’s going to be too tight for a bra and will most likely show any visible panty line. With reluctance, I will have to forgo underwear and allow the material to caress my skin.
It’s a beautiful dusty pink mini dress with spaghetti straps, and a deep scoop neckline that shows far too much cleavage, if you ask me.
It hugs every curve on my body and cups my chest to the point I’m sure I could jump around and my breasts wouldn’t escape. It comes to around mid-thigh and shows far more skin than I’ve shown in a very long time.
Admiring my reflection in the mirror, I rub my hands over my body, before turning around to view the practically non-existent back.
There’s no denying that the dress hugs the curve of my ass, making it look perky and full. I quickly realize I was right about this dress; it’s everything I thought it was.
Too sexy, too risky, too flashy, too everything .
Slowly opening the bathroom door, I’m greeted by what can only describe as a squeal from Alex. I’ve certainly never heard her make a noise like that before and for a moment, I forget my anxiousness and chuckle at her silliness .
“Oh my God, Meghan, it fits you better than I could’ve imagined.” She twirls her finger in the air and I turn on the spot as directed. She lets out a whistle and I blush. “Come, let’s do your hair and make-up.”
“I’m still not one hundred percent sold on this outfit. It just feels a bit too much for a work party.”
Alex stops in her tracks and turns to face me.
“You look hot. You’re wearing the dress.
Don’t forget we’ll be clubbing afterward, plus I have a plan to get you laid.
You can’t keep pining over a man that barely acknowledges you, Meghan.
You could meet a guy tonight and hook up with him, then who knows what might come of it. ”
Damn . It was worth one last shot.
After tonight I’m not drinking with Alex ever again, because apparently I agree to do stupid things when I do.
An hour later, my waist-length hair is curled and combed out, with half of it up in a ponytail and some wavy strands of hair hanging around my face.
My eye make-up is smoky and my lips are coated in a generous layer of lip gloss—Alex said something about guys liking girls with wet-looking lips when she was applying it and who am I to argue?
She’s worked some magic to make my cheekbones stand out and finished my face with a light dusting of blush across my cheeks. I hardly recognize myself, but I also feel beautiful and… sexy.
If I’m being honest with myself, I feel like a damn goddess.
I admire Alex’s work while trying to keep my face neutral and not give away how confident and sexy I feel.
I know Alex well enough to know that she’ll have me with a whole new wardrobe come Monday otherwise…
maybe that isn’t such a bad idea. I could switch up my wardrobe, get some much needed confidence and put myself back out there into the dating world.
Imagine wearing a dress like this to work…
Okay, that isn’t happening. In fact, it’s laughable. It’s one thing to go on a night out dressed like this, but it’s another thing entirely to wear it in the office.
“Now, you just need to put your contacts in, some perfume on and we’re good to go,” Alex instructs, her focus on clearing away her things.