Chapter Two #3
them out in a pinch even now that you’re starting to make a living from the
roles you’re getting, you shouldn’t have to work when you’re not even on the
schedule.”
“I know. But everyone was busy helping other people, and it
just felt wrong to leave that guy standing there.”
She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, while you were gone, the girls
and I were talking about dresses, and we all know about your whole
eye-contact-with-Christian story and figured you were nervous, that’s all.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t have many friends when I was growing up, so this
whole dynamic is new to me. I’m still learning about healthy friendships.
Does Christian have a group of friends that he’s talking
to about me and our maybe-date?
“So? Are you ready to admit it?”
“Admit what?”
“That you’re nervous about Christian calling?” she asks, but
then stops and gasps, her eyes going wide. “Or maybe you’re nervous that he won’t
call.” Another gasp. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re worried that his publicist is
going to put this idea to him, and he won’t be interested.”
“Um…”
“Oh. My. Gosh!”
Jen sounds way more concerned about this than I think she
should, but she could be right. Is that what my deal is? Am I secretly afraid
that he won’t call me?
I slowly sink down onto my bed—on top of a bunch of the
stuff Jen put on it—and let this new information sink in.
Meanwhile, Jen flits around my room, offering words of
encouragement, but it’s all white noise to me. I mean…is a dress really leading
to all this self-discovery?
Obviously, I’ve dated guys before. And while that was more
of an adult-Ella thing than a teenage one, I’ve still gone out with men. I’ve
never had issues like this, where I’m obsessing over things.
And I’ve never had butterflies in my stomach when
thinking about it as I do now.
So…am I? Obsessing? Sure, I’m overthinking it a little, but
that’s only because I want to look nice. That’s not a crime, right? Even if I
knew that the person I was going out with wasn’t the one, I would
still want to look my best while we were out.
“You’ve never been this picky before,” Jen’s saying, but
she’s also smiling—and still enjoying this way more than I think is necessary.
“But why? Why this guy? What’s so different about him?”
I wish I knew…
“Any other day,” she continues, “I could have pulled out a
dress or two, and we would have had you accessorized and ready to go. Or we
would have been at the thrift shop already.”
“We can still get to the thrift shop if we stop discussing
it,” I say calmly. And that’s when I decide that I’m done thinking about this.
Which is what I tell Jen.
“No more psychoanalyzing,” I say, forcing myself to smile.
“Call Penny and tell her we’re going to shop a bit and to hold off on bringing
things over. Say she can come over later, and we’ll order pizza or something,
okay? I’ll try on her stuff then if I need to.”
Luckily, Jen agrees, and I help her gather up all the
clothes that are scattered around my room.
“Let me go put all this stuff back, and then I’ll text Penny
while I touch up my makeup,” she tells me.
I don’t even question her multitasking skills because I know
she can basically do it all.
But while she’s doing that, I decide that maybe I should
freshen up a bit, too. Not that I’ve been doing anything that requires it, but
it seems like the thing to do while I’m waiting.
So, I apply some lip gloss and fluff my hair. I consider
putting it up in a ponytail but decide against it.
Then, I look at what I’m wearing—jeans and a sweatshirt—and
think about whether or not I should change. If I’m going to be trying on
dresses, is this the best choice? Does it even matter?
Does Christian like a jeans-and-sweatshirt kinda girl?
“I really hope we leave soon because I’m starting to annoy
myself,” I mumble before grabbing my purse and phone and walking out of the
bedroom.
There’s no sign of Jen yet, so I grab a bottle of water and
sit down on the couch.
“You almost ready?” I call out.
“Two minutes! I decided to get changed. The thought of peeling
myself out of these jeans more than once was enough to do it for me.” She
laughs. “You know, just in case we end up at more than one shop.”
Dang it. Now I’m second-guessing things for like the
hundredth time today.
Sipping the water, I tell myself I don’t have to change, but
now I feel like I really want to. I stand up just as Jen comes out of her room,
looking adorable in a pair of comfy yoga pants and a cute top.
“Sorry about that,” she says. “Oh, good call on the water.”
She grabs a bottle for herself before heading out of the kitchen. “Let’s do
this.”
I guess I’m not changing.
I’m halfway to the door when my phone rings. We both pause.
When I look at the screen, I don’t recognize the number.
“Who is it?”
I shrug. “No idea.” I look at her. “Should I answer it?”
She waves it off. “Just let it go to voicemail. Penny’s
going to meet us at the thrift shop over on Westwood.”
I go to put my phone into my purse, but my curiosity gets
the best of me. “Just give me a sec,” I tell her before tapping the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m looking for Ella Holt,” a deep, masculine—and
completely unfamiliar—voice says.
“That’s me. Who’s this?”
He clears his throat. “Um, hey, Ella. This is Christian
Lucas. Your publicist gave me your number. Is this a good time to talk?”