“I stopped being able to borrow your clothes in junior high, LB.”
“This one might work. It never hung right on me. I think it’ll be a mini on you, but try it. See how it looks.”
It was a white, diaphanous wisp of a dress, all chiffon and flutters, not the sort of thing I’d usually wear, but it was enough of a nod at flapper-style that I was willing to try. Shrugging out of my clothes, I pulled it over my head. Lauren had more chest and butt, less leg, so it was slightly loose, and it hit three inches above my knees.
“How is it?”
“It looks really cute. You’ll need a jacket, though.”
“The red one?” I tried it on.
“I think you look fantastic.” She swung the closet door closed, so I could look in the full-length mirror on the back of it. “Shoes?”
Since I wore a ten, and she wore a seven and a half, she couldn’t help me there. I settled on a pair of silver wedge sandals. Lauren agreed they looked fine, even if they wouldn’t be her first choice, but my other options were boots, more boots and Converse.
“Okay, I’ll finish your hair and makeup.” She draped a towel around my shoulders to keep the dress clean, then she went to work.
When she finished, I was honestly stunned. Part of me had been a bit afraid it would come out beauty-pageant overdone, and that Ty would think I was trying too hard, but she’d gone for sun-kissed subtle with slightly heavier hits on lips and eyes; mine had never looked so blue. I had rarely looked so striking, and my hair was fantastic. She’d loosened the curls and tamed them, so they cascaded down my back instead of sticking out every which way.
“You’re hired.”
“Glad you like it. If 1B can resist you tonight, then I’m afraid you’re destined for his friend-zone forever.”
When I walked into the living room, Max dropped the remote. “I don’t think I can let you go out looking like that.”
I grinned. “Your compliment is noted.”
“Look at those legs,” Angus said. “If you had more of a boy bum, I could be persuaded to get drunk and do bad things with you.”
Obviously, he was joking, though our freshman year before he came out, Angus had a girlfriend, and nobody knew how far that had gone. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could ask politely. From what I recalled, she had been thin to the point of boyishness. He didn’t talk about Chelsea, and after their breakup, she didn’t stay in our friend circle. The grapevine suggested she was pretty wrecked, though, and she had all kinds of self-doubt, like she should’ve noticed before he surprised her with the confession.
“You can’t make Josh jealous with me,” I pointed out.
He acknowledged that with a sigh. “Turn, show me the rest.”
I pivoted, showing off the arch of my calves. Hmm. How tall is Ty? The sandals put me over six feet, and some guys got testy if you loomed; I’d dated a depressing number of them. In fact, my high school boyfriend’s height had more to do with the duration of our relationship than chemistry or personality. Then I reminded myself that it didn’t matter how tall Ty was.
This isn’t a date.
“Fabulous. Should I be hurt that you two managed without me?”
That was a joke since Angus had never frolicked into our closets to do spontaneous consultations. Sometimes he told me my shoes were terrible, but that was the limit of our personal fashion bonding. Since I loved my Chucks, I didn’t usually care what he thought of them. But it was a good sign that he felt well enough to tease me.
“Definitely not. Lauren would’ve been sad if you had stolen her glory.”
“Maybe I should become a celebrity stylist if I drop PoliSci,” she said, thoughtful.
That started a whole different conversation, one that lasted fifteen minutes. I sat down to watch TV while Max tried to get inside Lauren’s head. Like everyone else, she rebuffed him with witty banter. I’d never seen her connect with a guy, though she used to spy on my brother with hardcore dedication. That was years ago, though. Most of us had an embarrassing crush we’d rather not discuss—for me, it was Matt Pomerico, the dude I stalked through junior high.
“What time is your chariot leaving?” Max glanced over at me, raising a dark brow.
“Seven.”
Angus observed, “You’re half an hour early. That says you’re anxious.”
“Thanks for that,” I mumbled. “What happened to shopping?”
“We’re waiting for you to leave,” Lauren informed me. “How else can I judge his reaction to my kick-ass cosmetology?”
I sighed, tempted to make a break for it, but in these shoes, they’d catch me. There was no help for it but to endure. At ten to seven, I stood up, brushed my teeth and came back to the living room with my purse. All three of them were waiting by the door.
“Please tell me you’re not walking me to his apartment.”
Max laughed. “She’s screwing with you. We’re going to dinner.”
“Thank God.”
Though we all left together, they went straight out the front while I continued to Ty’s apartment. Maybe some of Lauren’s teasing had taken root, though, because I fantasized about him taking one look at me then shoving me against the wall. I needed that kiss, to dig my fingers into his shoulders and wrap my legs around his hips. The reasonable me would never press him, never ask for more than he was willing to give, but I wanted him so bad it hurt. His words. My pulse thundered in my ears.
At my knock, Ty threw the door open and literally froze. His eyes locked on mine, then they swept lower, skimming my br**sts, the flare of my hips, and the line of my legs. Usually, I hated when guys did that instead of maintaining eye contact, but with him, I craved it. His gaze lingered on my thighs, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. A shuddering breath escaped him, a more visceral response than I’d dared expect.
“Wow.” He sighed, shaking his head. “From this I can only extrapolate that you hate and want to kill me.”
Not exactly the reaction I was expecting. “Excuse me?”
“I told you how I feel about your legs. Now you’re showing them off, fully aware I’ll be thinking about them all night.”
Put that way, it did sound diabolical. I struggled not to reveal how much he turned me on, just with words. The fact that he was so honest about what he wanted and why he couldn’t have it—Ty was perfect. How good would it be if we ever touched, if he ever lost control? Heat worked through me as I considered it even as I battled my longing, because if we f**ked and he regretted it—not worth considering. In that scenario, our friendship went down in flames and didn’t rise from the ashes like a phoenix. Afterward, there would be only awkward silence and endless remorse.