Page 94 of Hold On Me

I let my gaze scan over my body, and while the dress is beautiful, it does nothing for me. The poofy skirt hides my figure and the corset top just highlights my lack of cleavage. “I agree. Um, have you got something that’s a little bit?—”

“Sexier?” Her interruption makes me laugh, and she breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry. I have a bad habit of interrupting, but I think you need sexy. Should we ask your friend?”

I nod through my laughter as we head out into the wide ‘viewing’ room. Angie comes out simultaneously, dressed in a midnight blue dress that looks like it's been sculpted to her body. My jaw drops.

“I know. This is the one.” She lets her eyes trail over me and her lips turn down in disgust. “That is not. Next!” she bellows loudly, and the assistant with her—a middle aged woman with asour expression on her face—turns her nose up haughtily. Angie ignores her, of course, keeping her eyes on me.

My assistant bounces on her toes “I think I have the perfect dress for you. Can I go and grab it?”

I sigh loudly. “I have another four dresses in the changing room.”

Angie’s hand is on her hip when she hits me with a challenging look. “Yeah, but if that monstrosity is anything to go by, you’ve picked out some awful ones.”

Okay, so I may have stuck with dresses that cover a lot more flesh, and ones I thought would come with a less expensive price tag, but…

“Fine. Go get the damn dress.”

Angie squeals in excitement, and my assistant hurries out of the viewing room as Angie heads back into her room to change. I do the same, standing awkwardly in the mirrored room in just my underwear.

A small cluster of fingertip shaped bruises on my hip catch my attention and my thoughts fly to Ben. I haven’t really spoken to him since our blow out. He’s back to emailing me in the morning about work and has sent a few texts, but nothing about that night. It’s like it didn’t happen. But I know it did.

I’m the kind of person who looks after the people I love. It’s who I am.

The words float through my memory and goosebumps flow over my body.The people he loves.I’m one of those people. And he wants to look after me. Wants me to trust him enough to let him. And I want to. My heart’s begging me to let him, but my head won’t switch off.

That little voice in the back of my mind keeps butting in, telling me I need to be cautious. That eventually all of this will come to an end. I need to protect myself. He spent years ignoringme, keeping me at a distance, and now he’s all in. And I’m terrified.

Neither of us have had good role models to base our relationships on. His mom was a golddigger and mine a drunken lush. I don’t want to end up like either of them, and I certainly don’t want to deal with the fallout when everyone finds out we’re dating, and then when we’re not.

But I do love him. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. He makes me feel safe, protected and cherished, and I think the real reason I don’t want to go into this fully is because I’ll like it all too much.

I’ve been reliant on myself for as long as I can remember. My dad did a great job in raising me, but he was absent for a lot of the time, working to provide for the both of us. What if I get so swept away in feeling safe, that when it’s taken away from me, I won’t remember how to look after myself anymore?

“Knock knock.” The attendant is back, and I force a smile on my face as she enters the room carrying two dresses. A golden gown is draped over her arm and her other hand holds a fire engine red number. Instinctively, my eyes land on the red, and her smile lets me know this was the dress she wanted me to see.

“Now I know this one is beautiful,”—she holds up the gold one and hangs it on the dress rack—“but the red is…” She holds her fingers to her lips and mimics a chef's kiss.

“Fine, I'll try that one.” I hold my hands out for it but she shakes her head.

“Um, you’ll need to take your bra off. This baby is backless.”

Mumbling, “Of course it is,” under my breath, I quickly swipe my bra off and grab the garment from her hands. Her eyes are squeezed shut, making me chuckle. As the silk glides over my body, I already know this is my dress. It feels like a whisper over my skin. A hug from an old friend.

A gasp from behind me turns my attention away from the way it feels to the attendant. “What do you think?” I ask her. “Sexy enough?”

“Oh fo’ sure.” She clamps her hand over her mouth as laughter fills the room. “Sorry, I let my inner Snoop out. But this dress was made for you. Please tell me you’re buying it.”

I let my gaze swoop to the mirrors and take in my reflection. The breath hitches in my throat. The gown hugs my body, the front held up by two thin straps, covering but accentuating my breasts. As I turn to the side, a glimpse of my back comes into view, and I gasp as the dress dances over my lower back, low enough to show the whole curve of my spine, but not low enough to show any of my ass. The silk glides over the curve of my behind and falls to the floor. Stepping to the side, another gasp falls from my lips as my leg comes into view via the thigh high split. This dress is sexy as sin, elegant as fuck, and so coming home with me.

“This is the one,” I whisper as I nod to my reflection.

A loud bang on the doors lets me know Angie’s done waiting, and I laugh as I open it. Stepping outside, I slowly turn in a full circle for her to get the full effect.

With a nodding head, she beams at me. “That’s it. That’s the one. We’re going to be the best dressed chicks there.”

Keeping my tone casual, I clear my throat and ask, “How much is this?”

Before anyone can reply, Angie is shaking her head and stating, “No,” rather firmly. “Nope. You do not need to know. We’re representing the Spartans, so we need to look amazing. And if you know the price, you won’t buy it.”

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