Page 55 of Duke's Daring Bookworm
“Hell yeah you did.” She raised her hand for a high five while chugging down an energy drink. I gave her one, but eyed the little yellow can she took greedy gulps from.
“You shouldn’t live on those, you know. People care about you and don’t want your heart to explode.” She waved away my concerns and tossed the now empty can into the nearby trash. It was a long-standing battle between us, and I wasn’t ready to give up on it yet.
“So, he’s taking me to some gala this weekend for his company.” She cringed at that. I didn’t want to bring her into this—she hated that world—but I knew I would need her help. Again. “Me, not you. Calm down.”
“Right, sorry. My face doesn’t always know how to shut up.” We were in her car on our way home by the time I’d mustered up the courage to talk to her about this. I knew she would hate to be reminded that she’s not just an archeologist.
“I don’t know the first thing about” —I waved my hand vaguely— “any of this, and I hoped you could walk me through it. You know how nervous I get, and information always helps.” I couldn’t move much in the limited space of the car, so my leg took up the bounce it preferred when I was overwhelmed.
She sighed, looked at me for a terrifyingly long moment, seeing as she was driving, and then nodded her head.
“I’ll do it on one condition,” she held up her finger like I didn’t know what one meant. “I get to pick your dress. I assume someone will come by with a selection.”
My shoulders relaxed, though my leg had a mind of its own and kept bouncing.
“Yeah, Duke set it up with someone named Clara. I think she’s supposed to contact me about it. Thank you, Frankie. I know you hate all this and I’m hopeless with fashion. I’d probably pick something terrible, and everyone would laugh at me and Duke would be embarrassed to be—” She held up her hand to stopmy rambling.
“I have one more condition. If you get the chance, give my parents the finger.”
Laughter burst out of me.
“I can’t do that!”
“Alright, fine, just the dress, hair and make-up. I’ve been in these circles enough to know what passes and what doesn’t, and no roommate of mine is going to go in there blind. They’re wolves and you need defenses.” She turned into the driveway of our house and parked.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“It’s that bad.” With that ominous warning, she left the car and left me wondering what exactly I had agreed to.
Clara, the personal shopper and stylist Duke arranged, showed up the next day in a whirlwind of silk, lace, and tulle. Colors ranging a whole rainbow, all in shades that Frankie said would complement my skin tone perfectly, except the orange, she immediately threw that one out, filled our small living room, and discussions began about current styles, cuts, color, hairstyle, makeup choices, and shoes.
Frankie was right to insist on being here. I would have pointed to the first dress on the rack and not considered any others, simply out of a desire to be done with the whole affair. That would have been the orange one—which they told me was a travesty. When I pointed out that the word they wanted was tragedy, I was met with a blank stare from Clara, and Frankie simply waved her hand like it wasn’t important.
The evening passed in a blur of scratchy fabric and shoes that pinched. By the end, I regretted ever agreeing to thisgala in the first place and almost messaged Duke to call off our date. Except he sent me a picture of him in the suit he planned to wear, just in case he needed to change it to match my dress, and my mouth went dry at the sight.
God, he was beautiful. No man had a right to be that gorgeous in a suit. I had to go with him. If I didn’t, I would spend the entire night wondering if another woman had gotten her claws into him.
The jealous tone of my thoughts worried me. It wasn’t the first time I’d thought of Duke as mine, more than just my friend, and I worried that when this was all done, I wouldn’t be able to go back to how we were.
By the end of the night, my joints ached, my scalp itched, and I never wanted to see another dress again in my life.
“I don’t think I can try another one on. How did you even get all these here?” I slumped onto the couch. We hadn’t yet found a dress that was Frankie approved and didn’t give me hives.
“There’s just one more,” Clara said as she pulled out yet another overstuffed black bag. I shuddered to think about how much fabric was in there to cause it to bulge like that.
“Unless you can get me into it without moving me from this spot, I don’t think it’s going to happen.” I lifted my limp hand and let it drop to the couch beside me so they could see just how exhausted I was.
“Just look at it first, and if you hate it on sight, we’ll put it away and I’ll bring back more tomorrow.” At the threat of more of this tomorrow, I sat up, energy surging through me. I could not go through all this again.
“Alright, show me already.” Frankie stood at the back of the room laughing, and I realized she probably told Clara exactly what to say to motivate me.
Clara hung the bag and slowly unzipped it, revealing adeep yet vivid purple tulle piled high enough to obscure the bodice.
“Wait,” I leaned toward the dress. “That’s—that color!”
“Mr. Pennington did say purple was your favorite when he asked me to pick some out.” Clara explained.
“You should have trusted him and shown me this one first.” I stood and walked to the dress in question as Clara finished pulling it out of the garment bag.
