Page 73 of It's a Date (Again)

“It’s settled,” Robbie says, reentering the living room with a big grin plastered across his face.

“What’s settled?”

“You and I are going dress shopping.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“Not anymore. I called in.”

“Robbie, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to, and I told you I’d help you find a dress if you needed one.” He folds his arms across his chest.

“I’m sure I can find something in my closet to wear,” I say.

“Nope, I already texted Maya, and she said you need a new dress.” Robbie raises his chin. He’s clearly pleased with himself and all the angles he’s covered. “You’re not getting out of this, Peyton.”

I can’t help it when the corners of my lips slowly curve up, crinkling my eyes. “Fine,” I say.

Standing in front of a dressing room mirror, I turn side to side, examining myself. A red dress with thin straps hugs my body tightly (too tightly), stopping right at my knees. It has a sweetheart neckline and a high split, accentuating my bust and legs. I toss my long hair back so I can see the full picture. Debbie would approve, but I don’t feel comfortable showing off a body I’m not all that familiar with. When I look at myself, it’s like I’m looking at an old friend I’ve lost touch with.

“I’m not coming out,” I announce.

“You have to,” Robbie shouts from the other side of the dressing room door. Well, it’s not a door. They’re floor-to-ceiling gold-velvet drapes dividing the dressing room from the sitting area. Maya recommended this boutique and told Robbie that I’d for sure find somethinghere to wear for my date. Two more dresses are hung on a hook ready for me to try on, but I think they’re all a bit too flashy for me.

“It’s too much,” I yell.

“Like cost-wise?” he asks.

“No, looks-wise.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Come on out,” he says in a singsong voice.

I let out a sigh and pull open the drapes. The large metal rings clink together as they slide across the curtain rod. Robbie is seated on an oversized armchair with a high back. His face lights up, and he stands as soon as he sees me. I don’t know how, but his eyes are even bluer. It’s like they change shades of blue based on his mood. Navy blue when he’s grumpy or feeling down, and sapphire when he’s happy.

“Wow,” he says. His mouth parts, and his gaze moves over me from my head to my toes. “You look amazing.”

My cheeks warm at the compliment, and I get the feeling that I’m not good at accepting praise. Glancing at the floor, I tug at the sides of the dress, pulling it down for length and up at the neckline.

“It’s not me,” I say.

“It should be.” Robbie clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck.

I walk to the trifold mirror and stand to the right of him for a better view. Robbie takes a couple of steps forward, so he’s a just few feet behind me. His eyes never leave my reflection. I turn side to side but I just don’t like it. It’s obvious I don’t see myself like he sees me.

The tall, wispy shop owner rushes into the room with a pile of dresses draped over her arm. Her dark hair is pulled back in a sleek bun. She wears a black jumpsuit and a customer-service smile.

“That looks amazing on you, Peyton,” she says.

“Thanks.”

“But in case that doesn’t work, I have all of these.” The woman gestures to the clothing she carried in. “I’ll just hang them up in your dressing room.”

The deep smile lines around her mouth are evidence of her upbeat and positive personality. We’re the only ones in the store, and it’s clear she’s eager to make a sale. She hangs them up and then tells us she’ll keep looking as she disappears through the door toward the front of the store.

“We’re gonna be here for a while,” Robbie teases.

I turn away from the mirror and stare back at him. “I’ll pick something quick, just not this,” I say, glancing down at the dress.

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