Page 23 of The Fake Date Deal

“It would take forever to get in and out of.”

“And the one before that?”

“Too goth, with the lace.”

“And the pink one? The green one?”

“Too cutesy. Too… green.”

She pointed at the dressing room. “Okay, get in there. I’m going to bring you some dresses, and you’re going to pick one.”

I rolled my eyes, but I did as she said. Soon, she handed in a midnight-blue gown. I slipped it on and checked it out in the mirror, tight-bodiced, full-skirted, with a high waist. The skirts were silk and tulle scattered with rhinestones, which winked in and out as the layers shifted. Like the night sky, with moon-colored buttons. It put me in mind of my last date with Marco, our starlit picnic. His grandparents’ farm. Would he see me of this and think fondly of home?

“Next one,” called Gabriella, and flung it over the door. I slipped out of the starlight dress and called it a maybe. The next one was brighter, low-cut, eye-catching. A subtle flower print, off-white on white. Its skirts hung full and heavy in deep silken folds. I ran my hands over the fabric and felt its rich texture. Marco would like that. He loved to touch.

“Okay, here’s a good one. Goes with your hair.” Gabriella passed over a white and gold dress, simple and classic, with a wrap to go with it. The fabric felt stiff at first, when I pulled it on, then hung in long, graceful lines as I shook it out. It did match my hair, as Gabriella had said, and in the bright lights, I almost glowed. I pictured myself back in our suite, walking out of the bedroom and spinning for Marco. Turning, my loose wrap swirling around me, showing off my new look from every angle. He’d love it. I knew it.

“This is the one.”

“Really?” Gabriella came crashing in. “Praise the gods, finally. You got shoes to match that?”

I picked up the trailing end of my wrap. “Maybe. I don’t know. Eavesdropping much?”

“I was sitting outside. Resting my legs.” She plopped down on the changing bench. “I think we walked a half marathon. I really do. How far is a marathon?”

“I don’t know. Far.” I craned over my shoulder to check the fall of my skirts. I loved how the slim waist brought out my hips, lending me curves I could only dream of possessing. Something to grab onto. Marco would?—

Fuck.

Gabriella’s brows drew together. “Oh, no. What now?”

“Nothing,” I said, and shook out my wrap. But it wasn’t nothing. It was something. Maybe. All day, we’d been shopping, and every store, every dress, every stitch I’d slipped on, I’d thought of Marco. I’d thought of what he’d think, and not Rafael. Not even my followers, my online Greek chorus.

“You like him,” said Gabriella, her expression turning smug.

I made a huffy sound. “Of course I like him. He’s fun. We have a good time. But I don’t like him, like him.”

“I think you do.”

“I need shoes,” I said, changing the subject. “And a purse. A cute one.”

Gabriella ducked out, then back in. She made a kissy face. I gave her the finger and she ducked back out, laughing. My reflection scowled at me from the full-length door mirror. Of course I wanted Marco to like my dress. He was in this with me. It was his revenge too. When I thought about it, the thrill came from that — that deep-down tingling I got from his touch. It was the same charge he got on the track. A frisson of danger. Exhilaration. Once our mission was over, that would go too, and we would go our separate ways.

I unzipped my gown and stepped out of its folds. Gooseflesh rose on my arms from the AC. I wanted Marco to hold me and rub it away. Like on that hillside, when the evening got cold, and he pulled me close to him at my first shiver. Did he feel something? Could it be… Did I?

I brushed the thought off as silly and wriggled into my jeans. I had my perfect dress now, and soon I’d have shoes. Soon I’d be photographed out on the town, glittering, golden, having a blast. I was winning, was all. This was what winning felt like.

“What are you doing?” Gabriella shouldered back in. She thrust a purse at me. “They don’t have shoes, but I have some you can borrow.”

I took the purse, checked it out, slung it over my shoulder. Held it up to my dress to make sure it matched. It did, and I smiled. “Thanks. This is great. And I need sparkly earrings.”

“I saw some by the register. Come on. Let’s go.”

We swept out of the store laden with bags, my dress, my new earrings, a necklace to match. The blue dress as well, because I couldn’t resist. Gabriella had bought herself a long, floaty caftan, saying she needed a day at the beach. We kissed goodbye outside my hotel, and she wished me good luck with Marco. I opened my mouth to protest it wasn’t like that. I didn’t need luck, because I had all I needed. But she was already gliding off down the street.

When I got back upstairs, Marco was waiting, just in his briefs, his suit hung on the sofa.

“There you are,” he said, and came up to kiss me. “I thought you got lost out there. What’s in the bags?”

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