Page 22 of Not That Into You

“I’m not your bimbo.”

He snorts. “We’re in full agreement there.”

“So why am I here? Why am I buying new clothes?”

“You’re not. I’m buying you new clothes.”

“So you can dress me up like a Park Avenue princess?” I shake my head. “This isn’t going to work, Cameron. I don’t wear fancy clothing.”

“Darling, I’m well aware you don’t wear fancy clothing.” He eyes my jeans and T-shirt. “Trust me.”

My nostrils flare. Is he trying to shame me for not having loads of money to waste on overpriced clothes? Screw him. “This was a mistake.”

I turn around, but before I can take a step, he grabs my arm.

“Wait. Look...” He sighs. “I’m not trying to dress you up like a Park Avenue princess or change who you are. But you’ll need a dress for Saturday night, and then people will have certain expectations about what you wear throughout the weekend. Yes, it’s superficial, but your usual outfit of skinny jeans and a T-shirt won’t cut it.”

“Sounds like you are trying to change who I am.”

“I’m not, Monica. But...” He runs a hand through his hair. “Shit. I’m not sure how to say this without pissing you off.”

“Then maybe don’t say it. Maybe trust I know how to dress myself.”

“I know you do, but people in the Hamptons—people who will be at my parents’ house—tend to be image-conscious. They care about designer labels. They have rules for which outfits are appropriate to wear and when.”

“And you don’t think any of my clothes will work?”

“From what I’ve seen...” He shrugs. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve already talked to Eliza about what you’ll need this weekend. I’ll buy your Hamptons wardrobe. You won’t have to worry about what to wear, and then you can keep the clothes and do what you like with them. Wear them, sell them, burn them, whatever.”

“You want me to fit in.”

“I want you to blend. We’re going to garner enough attention as it is without having to worry about...” He waves his hand around. “Wardrobe malfunctions.”

I rear back. “You think I’m going to have a nip slip?”

“Jesus. No, that’s not what I meant. I meant wardrobe fails.”

I shake my head. “Wow.”

“That didn’t come out right either.”

“No, I get it. My normal clothes will be an embarrassment.”

“Your normal clothes won’t be Tory Burch.”

“Who’s that?”

“Exactly.” He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the changing rooms. “Let me worry about the clothes.” He all but shoves me into the dressing room that Eliza indicates. “I’m trying to make this as easy as possible.”

I snort.

“You could at least do your part.”

With a scowl, I fold my arms across my chest. “I am doing my part. I’m pretending to be your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“Not very convincingly.”

Taking a deep breath, he steps into the dressing room, so we’re almost toe-to-toe. I refuse to take a step back, even though his proximity is making my stomach do cartwheels.

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