Page 61 of Calling the Shots

“Yes! I’d love to go to the dance with you.” She doesn’t hesitate at all, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me square on the lips right in front of everyone. Sloane, Cam, Carter—hell, the entire fucking bar. “This is going to be so amazing,” she murmurs and I panic for a second, hoping I’m not about to let her down big time.

“Just to set your expectations low—I’m not a good dancer. Don’t remember the last time I set foot on a dance floor, in fact.”

“That’s fine. I’ll lead.”

Despite my nerves, I can’t help but chuckle.

“Good luck with that.” Carter gazes at the two of us in amusement. “For an athlete, this guy’s got two left feet. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m sure she’s danced with worse,” Sloane says and Gracelyn nods, agreeing.

“For real. This is going to be so fun!” Gracelyn bounces in the tiny booth and I hope her expectations don’t far exceed the reality of going to a high school dance with me.

CHAPTER20

GRACELYN

Ican’t believe I’m going to the Hoco dance with Mack tonight. I haven’t been to a dance since college, and I’ve never had a date like Mack—big and strong enough to carry me, a real man. Someone I can lean on, count on. Bonus points for smelling like freshly sawed plywood and pine, a strangely intoxicating combination.

Last night after Mustang’s, Sloane and I spent an hour combing through my closet for something to wear while the guys talked football. We debated back and forth between a few options, but the long black satin V-neck ultimately won. Sloane swears it shows off my curves and is the perfect dress for the occasion. Due to both time and budget constraints, I’m choosing to believe her.

Now I have to get through one last updo of the day before I race home to shower and style my own hair.

“What do you think?” I spin Avery, a junior at Thunder Creek, around and hand her the mirror. She tips her head side to side, taking in every angle.

“I like it. The butterflies are finally in the right spot.”

We’ve been fighting about where to place the sparkly hairpins for the last thirty minutes. Thank goodness I finally nailed it because it’s getting late.

“Fab! Have your mom close out the bill up front, okay?”

“Okay, Ms. Gracelyn! Thanks so much!” Avery pops out of the chair and I clean up my area, officially off-duty for the rest of the weekend.

My feet hurt and my arms ache from using the blow dryer all day, but it’s nothing a hot shower won’t fix.

“Bye, Mom!” I shout, dashing down the hall. “See you later!”

I only have an hour to get ready before Mack picks me up. Racing home, I hop into the shower, turning the temp all the way up to scalding. The pulsing water does the trick, easing the knots in my neck and shoulders, and I’m finally relaxed.

Much as I’d love to stay in longer, I hop out and dry off, apply lotion. Wrapping my hair in a towel, I pad to my room to get dressed. I fish through my drawer for the matching black V-string and lacy bra set and shimmy my way into the lingerie. Then I slip into the sleek satin dress, zipping it up.

Sloane’s right. This dress looks good on me. The main focus is my cleavage, drawing attention away from my squishy midsection. I fasten a diamond drop necklace, along with matching earrings. Two spritzes of perfume, one on each wrist, and I’m ready for hair and makeup.

I flip the blow dryer on, turning the diffuser on my curls. After an eternity, my hair’s dry and I spin the top section into a chic half-up chignon. Clipping it with a long silver hairpin, I move to makeup. I go shimmery on my eyes and add three coats of mascara for a dramatic evening look. Blush, contour, highlighter, and a swipe of nude lipstick complete the look.

Slipping on black strappy heels, I’m ready, with five minutes to spare. I snap a selfie and send it to Sloane, then pour a glass of wine while I wait.

Bestie: OMG, you look HOT!

I text her back a smiley face emoji and grin at my cell, warmth spreading through my chest.

Bestie: Have the BEST time

Gracelyn: Will do

Bestie: Keep an eye on my dad

I laugh.Oh, how the tables have turned.Used to be our parents worrying about us—now it’s the reverse.

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