“Health. Wellness. Good habits.”
“A dude?”
He snorted. “Oh, Olivia.”
“That’s not my name, jackass.” She looked at the dress from every angle, turning in front of her full-length bedroom mirror and frowning. “Are you sure this dress is—”
“Good god, Olive. If you make me answer that question one more time I’m taking the dress back and you can go to the banquet in your pajamas. Is the dress on? Get your ass out here.”
Her phone buzzed.
STELLA
be at your door in 5
OLIVE
I can come out. you don’t have to park.
STELLA
already parked.
OLIVE
okay.
Olive’s heart fluttered. When was the last time she felt this way? Picked up at the door by a gorgeous date? It did feel like some cheesy, waltzing romance song should be playing in the background. Goddamn it, Derek was right. Butterflies had taken up permanent residence in her abdomen since Stella asked her to be fake girlfriends. They acted like they were in some kind of butterfly mosh pit every time Stella’s name appeared on her phone.
“Come out. Come out,” Derek chanted from the other room. “Or I’m leaving. Don’t you want me to do a final check?”
“Yes, fuck. Okay.”
She slipped on her low heels and walked through the door to her tiny living room. “Well?”
Derek beamed at her, grabbing her hand and twirling her once. “You look fantastic. The dress is great. All of it.”
“Thank you again for doing my hair.”
“You’re right. We have our deal. And you’re watching that new Netflix rom-com with me next week. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
A knock came from the door.
Derek grinned and began swiping on his phone.
“If you play the song, I swear to god I’ll kill you.”
“You’re no fun, Olive Murphy.” He pulled Olive into a hug. “You look hot. She’s gonna be all sexy in uniform. But be careful. Okay?”
“I know what this is.”
“You say that, but—”
Another knock.
Olive grinned. Derek shook his head, resigned.