The Trouble With Quarterbacks - R.S. Grey Page 0,55
back to speak of.
“Oh my god. I cannot wear this,” I say after Kat and Yasmine have tied me into it so it’s hugging my figure tightly.
It’s divine, truly, something I’d never allow myself to wear in normal life. At The Day School, it’s all day dresses and trainers. At District, I’ve got that black uniform and my work apron. This little number is for some confident model traipsing around St. Barts while every hunk in a ten-meter radius salivates over her.
“You’ll have to go braless,” Kat says with a shrug. “Your breasts are perky though, so it’s no big deal.”
“Oh great, thanks. Maybe speak up—I’m not sure the people one block over have heard you talking about my breasts.”
“And your knickers will have to be tiny,” Yasmine adds. “No pulling out the huge cotton ones like you normally wear—the same ones my gran uses. Not with that slit up the thigh.”
I look at my reflection and instantly redden. It’s a lot of dress. Or rather…not a lot of dress. It’s obscene, right? I couldn’t be caught dead in this in public! Mum would have a heart attack!
“It’s great, Yaz. You did a good job, but we’ll have to keep looking. I can’t wear this to the gala. I’m not nearly chic enough to pull it off.”
“Bollocks! You’re making it out to be racier than it is. I bet every female there will be dressed sexy. This dress is fancy and tasteful and, more importantly, within our budget.”
Kat chimes in now. “Besides, it’s not as if we’ve got the time to keep looking. We have to get back to the flat if you want us to help with your hair and makeup. Didn’t Logan’s assistant say you had to get there by 7:00 PM?”
Oh jeez. My pulse is pounding. I hate this. I was hoping to find some simple gown that fit well enough to let me blend in with the crowd tonight, something black and sensible. This dress, however, ensures I won’t be blending in at all. My stomach twists into a knot, but it doesn’t even matter because my mates are already collecting our things and helping me get out of the dress so we can take it to the counter and buy it.
I haven’t even fully agreed to wear it, but the wheels are already in motion. We head back so I can shower and take my time lathering on lotion everywhere so my skin glows. Then I slip into a robe and sit down in the living room so Kat and Yasmine can work their magic on me.
Kat does my hair while Yasmine applies my makeup. Yasmine is bloody brilliant with a makeup brush, way better than I could ever hope to be. She says she used to spend hours applying shadows to her eyes back in school instead of doing any proper studying, and it’s paid off.
“I think because your dress has got a sort of vintage vibe, I’m going to straighten your hair so it’s sleek and shiny and then leave it down. Then we can pin it behind your ear so it’s not in your face the whole night.”
Thank god it’ll be down; maybe it’ll help conceal how racy the back of the dress is.
I’m too nervous to bother checking my mobile while they get me ready. I know Logan texted me earlier, reminding me that I’ll have to get there before him. I hate the idea of being there when he’s not. Who am I going to talk to? Where will I stand? Off in the corner? With the bartenders? Argh. It sends my heart racing all over again just to think about it. I wish we could just go together, but I guess I understand. Don’t want the press going crazy, I suppose. It’s fine, I assure myself all over again.
I have to hand it to Yasmine and Kat. By the time they’re finished with me, I blink at my reflection in disbelief. I look like a proper Bond girl what with my shimmery dress and my heels and my fancy makeup. More importantly, I feel like a Bond girl. I turn in a circle to inspect and admire the way the straps crisscross over my back. I like the dress now more than I did in the shop. I think with my hair and makeup done, it seems more realistic that I could pull it off.
After I grab my clutch and load it full of the essentials (snacks mainly), they