Page 8 of Tan Lines & Trouble
“Ugh.” I tug on the ends of my too-long hair. “Fine.”
Turns out, it only takes ten minutes to catch them up—plus five after they finish ribbing on me. It also turns out I’m a dumbass and should definitely text her.
Me
I was an ass today Dots.
Her reply is instantaneous.
Dots
Yeah, you were.
Dane
Let me take you out to make up for it.
Dots
Like on a date?
Shit. Is it a date? I think…I think I want it to be.
Me
Yeah. A date.
Dots
Tell me when and where.
Dane
Nah. I’ll pick you up. Tomorrow night at 7. Say yes.
Dots
Yes.
SIX
Thea
“You’re going on a date with Dane!” Blue squeals for the fiftieth time as she rifles through my closet for an outfit. It seems I’m not capable of dressing myself for such a momentous occasion.
“Yup, I am,” I reply coolly, even though on the inside I’m every bit the bouncing excited mess Blue thinks I should be.
She scoffs but continues flipping through my hangers. “Oh, wait! I think this is it!”
She emerges victorious with a black wrap-style maxi skirt that has a thigh-high slit and a black lace bralette. It’s one of those impulse-buy outfits you fall in love with but never wear because it’s so not you.
Which is exactly what I tell her. “Blue, I’ll look like a clown in this.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “If by clown you mean crazy hot, then yes. Quit your bitching and get dressed.”
Stripping down to my panties, I roll my eyes at my insufferable best friend. I step into the skirt and shimmy the soft fabric up my legs before tugging my underwear down—nobodylikes panty lines—and slipping the lacy bra over my head. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right…I look hot.
Blue quirks her brow in a way that says told you so.
