Page 64 of How to Kiss a Movie Star
At first, I try to minimize how much we’re spending, but Olivia waves off my concerns, Flint’s credit card clutched in her hand with obvious glee.
Three hours later, my feet are sore, I’m completely exhausted, and there are more bags between the five of us than we can easily carry.
Olivia just purchasedtennew pairs of shoes for me, which feels utterly ridiculous and indulgent, but I’ve given up trying to argue with her. And let’s be honest. The Frye ankle boots that I tried on last are possibly the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever put on my feet.ANDthey look amazing. Turns out, shoes that are both fashionable and comfortablearepossible.
You just have to be willing to pay for them.
Olivia is currently negotiating with the store clerk about how to get all the shoes and the rest of the two dozen bags we’ve been hauling around delivered to the airport. I didn’t even realize that was a thing we could ask for, but a no-limit AMEX card apparently goes a long way in this city.
“Perfect. Thank you so much,” Olivia finally says before spinning around to face the rest of us. “Load him up, girls,” she says, pointing back at the store clerk, a waifish man named Eduardo with bushy eyebrows and what looks to be a permanent frown. He opens a door behind the counter and holds it open with his foot while we hand him bag after bag. It seems awfully trusting, honestly. Olivia has been stingy with the receipts, not wanting me to see the total from each store, but I’ve been adding in my head as quickly as I can, and the number is…well, let’s just say it’s not an amount I’d feel comfortable losing to Eduardo.
“He won’t just steal them, right?” I whisper to Tatum.
“Absolutely not. This kind of thing happens all the time,” she assures me. We spent a little time on the plane talking about her childhood growing up as the daughter of a very famous celebrity chef, so I know I have every reason to believe her. But all this still feels so foreign to me.
“Okay,” Olivia says, rubbing her hands together once we’ve given Eduardo everything we’ve purchased so far. “It’s time for the best part.”
Kate lets out a little gasp. “Evening wear?”
Olivia nods, her grin wide. “Oscar de la Renta, here we come.”
“Oscar de la who?” I say as they usher me out the door.
“Oscar de la dream come true,” Lila says. She loops her arm through mine. “Do you have any thoughts on color?”
“Is it awful if I tell you I literally have zero thoughts about evening wear?” We turn left and follow Olivia down Madison Avenue.
“Not even about style? Sleeveless? Sequins? Ruffles of any kind?” Lila asks, her tone teasing.
“No ruffles and no sequins,” Olivia says, tossing a look over her shoulder. “Audrey needs something classy. Something sophisticated.”
“Audrey needs something comfortable and easy to walk in,” I say. “Anything to help combat the odds of me falling on my face.”
“You’ll have Flint to hold you up,” Kate says. “He won’t let you fall.”
A wave of trepidation washes over me. Hewillbe there to hold me up. Probably with an arm around me, or a hand pressed to the small of my back. It scares me to realize how excited I am about that.
Maybe it’s just the exhilaration of the day. Or the acceptance and camaraderie I’ve felt from his sisters. Or it could be that Flint’s fingerprints are all over everything we’ve done—he’s done so much to make me feel special. But for the first time, the trepidation I’ve grown so used to feeling every time I think about what’s coming shifts into something a little less frightening. It’s more like anticipation—the good kind of anticipation. The kind that makes my stomach flutter and my heart pound out of my chest.
“Okay,” Olivia says, pausing outside the door of Oscar de la Renta’s New York store. “A woman named Remy is waiting for us, and she’s handpicked several gowns for you to try that will compliment Flint’s red-carpet look.”
“Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!” Lila says from just behind me. “Have you ever worn a designer gown, Tatum? Is it as amazing as I think it would be?”
“It’s pretty magical,” Tatum says, and I frown. I don’t even know what it means to wear a designer gown.
Tatum reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It just means you’re wearing a one-of-a-kind dress instead of something off the rack.”
“So, there’s only one? What if it doesn’t fit me?”
“They’ll make it fit,” Lila says. “Make whatever adjustments you need. Isn’t that part of the magic?” She looks at Tatum, who has become our source for all things even tangentially related to celebrity life.
“Don’t worry about the fit,” Tatum confirms.
“Okay! Let’s do it,” Olivia says.
I fall in love with the first gown I put on.
It’s ice blue—not far from the shade of my eyes—with a fitted bodice and a gentle flare that starts midthigh. A sheer sort of lacy mesh overlay with tiny flowers stitched on top (clearly, I have no idea how to talk about dresses) covers the entire dress, then extends over the chest and shoulders, making it look like the flowers are growing up and over my skin.
