Page 44 of Trust Me

“My family is important to me. I can’t let them down,” I explain, knowing she’s right, but so am I.

“Why is it okay to let yourself down, Minnie? If you really think he’s not worth it, then fine, don’t risk it. But from what you’ve told me about your chemistry, all the things you have in common, and the gestures he’s made for you, I think it would be insanely stupid not to give it a try.”

I nod in agreement, knowing every word she’s said is true, ones I’ve already thought about. My voice squeaks with my next words, voicing my biggest fear. “I don’t even know what to do. I have zero experience with guys. What if he doesn’t want me, Ro?”

Aurora gives me an understanding look. “That must be scary, I will admit. But I will also ask you this. What do you want to remember at the end of your life? That you played it safe, or that you took chances and told fear to fuck off?”

I groan, flopping back on the couch. “I want to tell fear to fuck off.”

“Damn right, you do,” she agrees. “Elio is one hundred percent into you. I think he was from the day he invited you to live with him. He seems like a really private guy, so him letting you in his space is huge. Not to mention him being such a sweetheart when you were sick.”

“He was being a nice human, that’s all,” I deflect, trying not to get wrapped up in the fantasy she’s painting so well.

“Remember when I had those really bad cramps and Cam came to take care of me? I wondered the same thing, but it’s different. Not just anyone will do what they did for us.”

A knock comes at the door. Thank God. “I think Camille’s here to bring me up to her place to get ready. I’ll text you later. Love you, bye.”

She tells me she loves me and to have fun, but be safe. Minutes later, I’m pulling open the door, and Camille bursts with joy as she squeals my name. “Jasmine! Let’s go, time to get you ready.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me tell the girls bye and make sure their bowls are filled.”

“Girls?” Camille questions, an eyebrow perched.

Oh God, I called them what Elio does. “It’s what Elio calls them. It rubbed off on me, okay?”

“I’m sure they will miss their mom very much, but we have preparing to do.”

I ignore her comment about calling me their mom because part of me likes it. They’ve grown on me. I don’t even want to think about how much I’ll miss them once I eventually move out. I might even miss their dad too.

Back up in Camille’s apartment, there are outfits strung across the couch, makeup set up on the coffee table, and a mirror that was put in the living room for the occasion.

“What is all of this?” I ask, running my hand over a tulle pink dress.

“These are our outfit choices for tonight. I know you like to get dressed up, so that’s why my wardrobe is all over my couch.”

We blast old pop music, with a wine glass in our hands, while we get ready for the night. This is honestly the best part of going out, getting ready with your bestie.

I settle on dark skinny jeans, paired with a black corset-style bodysuit and black heels. I feel really good in them. From the way the jeans hug me perfectly, to the way the corset accentuates my cleavage, and the heels give me an extra boost of confidence.

I leave my face bare of makeup, minus some nude lipstick. My curls are loose and free, trailing above my breasts.

Camille has smokey eyes with a pink lip and her hair pin-straight. She’s wearing a lilac cropped blazer, with a cropped white tube top underneath, paired with a matching lilac

miniskirt that molds her body and white boots that hit her knees.

She looks classy, a bit Parisian.

“Every guy in the club tonight is going to be looking at you,” Camille purrs, dabbing some lip gloss on her lips.

“Next to you? Not a chance.” I shake my head while she waves me off. “How about you? Are you going to dance with anyone?”

Camille pauses, looking at her fingernails, then back at me. “No. I want to dance and have fun. I sometimes freak out if a guy comes up behind me without telling me first.”

The reminder of what happened to her makes my blood boil. I wish I could give those assholes a slap across the face or a knee to the balls for ever daring to hurt my friend.

“I’ll be on the lookout too. Are you sure you want to go?” I ask, not wanting this night to go poorly for her.

“I need this outlet, and I can’t let those men take away my present and future. Yes, I get shaken up easily, but I need to live. I can’t hide from it,” she explains, her voice sturdy and strong.

---