Page 22 of Breathless With Her

I rubbed and tried to work out the worry, the brewing headache. Only I was a very good worrier and, sometimes, there was no working it out.

I was losing my mind, and all because I had said yes to amaybedate. And because Devin had given me no time to formulate a good excuse for why I might be busy. Because, you know, I might actually have a life.

I couldn’t back out.

Why did I feel like I was doing everything wrong?

I sighed and then went to pull on some white jeans, forgetting at the last moment that I wanted to change my underwear, too. Not for Devin. This wasnotfor Devin. No, it was because I was wearing white jeans and I wasn’t about to wear my work panties, the nice, wide ones that were not for public consumption but totally covered everything as I moved around my kitchen.

Plus, I had been wearing black that day. So that really wouldn’t work.

I quickly switched to a white, lacy thong, and not because Devin would see. No, this was because of the jeans. And I liked these jeans.

I was probably going to stay in these jeans all night and stain them because that’s what I did. I was bound to do something that ruined them, but that was fine.

Everything was fine.

I slid on the pants, put on a black bandeau, and then pulled on my shirt. It was an off-the-shoulder black top that had bell sleeves and billowed out just enough after it tapered in to the waist. That way, it covered what I needed it to cover, and I still felt pretty.

I put on black sandals with a wedge, the silver adornments on the top the perfect complement to the jewelry I planned on wearing.

I didn’t really know what kind of dress code the party had for the night, but considering the cake I had made, and Devin telling me to wear anything I wanted, I figured it wasn’t formal. So, I wasn’t willing to wear a dress. After all, this wasn’t a real date. And even if the night went poorly, it wouldn’t matter. Because it wasn’t like this would become anything serious.

I already had serious. I’d had years of serious.

This could just be a fling.

Yes, I told myself. A fling. But I wasn’t even going to have sex with Devin. He was just going to be my friend.

But if it turned into a fling, that was fine. Though I was never going down the road of a relationship again. Been there, got the T-shirt. And then saw the T-shirt stripped off the damn cheerleader as my husband fucked her and did drugs off her chest.

I growled and slid on my hoop earrings, trying to slow down my breathing.

I didn’t know if Nicholas was still doing coke or if that had just been a one-time thing.

I hadn’t asked. Didn’t want anything to do with it.

I got my half of our old life and walked away.

It hurt to think that he might be hurting himself, but there was nothing I could do about it. He had walked away first.

And I didn’t want to fight it anymore.

No, I was not going to think about that. I couldn’t. Tonight was all about the date. The not-date. The I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-doing date.

See? Everything was fine. I didn’t have to think about what was going to happen tonight.

I just had to be. Something I was getting better at. After all, I’d had six months to figure out who I was. Tonight was just the next step in that.

My phone buzzed on my dresser, and I looked down at it, my heart in my throat.

Was it Devin wanting to cancel? I wouldn’t be surprised. After all, this had been short notice. Maybe he had decided that taking me to his friend’s birthday party was too much. After all, wasn’t it a statement?

My hands shook, and I cursed at myself, annoyed that I was always nervous when it came to Devin—or anyone at this point.

But then I relaxed, seeing my sister’s name on the screen.

I picked up the cell, still staring at myself in the mirror like a weirdo. “Hey, Jenn, what’s up?” I asked, smiling.

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