Page 90 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“And,” Roxanne chimes in, “if you happen to kiss him, you have to tell us how it really feels. I love a good friends-to-lovers story.”

I groan and flop onto my back. “Can we please focus on the actual crisis? Like, which dress I’m supposed to wear?”

“Sure, sure,” Elaine says, waving me off as she dives back into the mountain of dresses.

We sift through the mess, picking up dresses tossed across the room and eyeing the ones still hanging in my closet.

“These areverynot like you.” Elaine pulls out a few pieces and holds them up with a skeptical look. “I didn’t even realize you owned these kinds of dresses.”

“She did,” Roxanne says, plucking a dress straight from Elaine’s hands. “She wore them around Kyle.”

I blink at Roxanne. Wow. She has such good observation skills.

After months of Kyle’s helpful suggestions about my wardrobe, I don’t even trust my own taste anymore.

That color washes you out. That style is so last season. No one wears that anymore, Isla.

So I tried. I bought the clothes he said looked classier, the ones that fit better, the ones he’d approve of. And yet, I still didn’t get it.

Which is why I always turned to Asher for his help. He had a better grasp of Kyle’s preferred aesthetic than I did. And, somehow, anything Asher picked out for me led to less criticism. I was happy at that time, but now it seems weird why I chose to stay with Kyle.

“How about this one?” Elaine held up a sapphire wrap dress. “It will bring out your eyes.”

“The pink,” Roxanne gestures to another dress on my bed. “It’s sweeter.”

Mochi, sprawled across the pile of discarded dresses like he’s the reigning king of fashion disasters, stretches luxuriously and lets out an unhelpful yawn.

“I don’t know . . .” I twist my hands together. “I should just wear—”

“If you say cardigan one more time,” Elaine threatens with the dress hanger.

“Let’s ask Asher.” I grab my phone and hit speed dial. “He always knows.”

“This is weird,” Elaine said.

“I wouldn’t,” Roxanne shakes her head.

Too late. Asher picks up on the first ring. His low voice coming through the speaker. “Hey, Isla.”

Okay, this does feel a bit weird.

Do people normally ask their best friend, who just so happens to be their fake boyfriend, what to wear for their first fake date?

That feels like a lot. Like, psychological thesis levels of unpacking. Does that mean he’ll know I care a lot about what he thinks? That I’m actively trying to impress my date, who happens to be him?

This isn’t weird at all. Not one bit.

“Um . . .” I hesitate, earning synchronized eye rolls from both of my traitorous friends. “Hypothetically . . . if someone was going to Couples’ Bingo Night, would they wear blue or pink?”

“Hypothetically?” I can hear his grin. “Would this hypothetical person happen to be mygirlfriendwho’s overthinking her outfit right now?”

Roxanne and Elaine dissolve into giggles.

“Never mind, I—”

“Let me guess. You’ve been trying on clothes for at least an hour.” His warm chuckle fills the room.

“I have not!”

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