Page 55 of Attached At Heart
Not that I minded.
In fact, I was starting to wonder if I actually kind of liked it.
This dress was nothing like the other ones I’d tried on.
The first two pieces in this fashion show had been floral and flowy, the next had been solid and basic, and the one before what I was wearing now had been a linen shirtdress with buttons up the front and a tie around the waist. So far, Blake had surprised me with honest feedback about which dresses seemed to suit me better. I’d packed three of them and set one of them aside.
And now there was one more to try on.
This one.
I stared at myself in the corner floor-length mirror, which I was honestly shocked Blake owned but appreciated at the moment. I smoothed my hands down my sides, running my fingers over the fabric clinging to my skin. It was tight. It was red. It had a corseted bodice with ties in the back, giving me the illusion of having more curves than I did.
I’d bought this dress for Ophelia’s bachelorette party, which had been a ritzy affair in the Hamptons, and even though my residency schedule ultimately intercepted my ability to make it that weekend, I’d held on to this dress. It was a nice dress. Maybe too nice? Maybe too…salacious. Like a piece someone who was actually going on their honeymoon would wear, and I wasn’t really going on my honeymoon, was I?
“I think I’m done!” I called, loud enough for Blake to hear me over the boxing podcast he turned on every time I disappeared back into my room to change. I didn’t understand the appeal of two men talking about punching each other, but then again, itwas also nice to see Blake so into a hobby. He went to his boxing club at least three or four times a week, and I had to admit, he always seemed to come home mentally recharged. Every once in a while, it made me miss ballet. Or just dancing in general.
“You told me there was one more!” he shouted back.
“I, uh, made a mistake!”
“Since when do you make mistakes?” He laughed, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of his comment or because of something the boxing dudes said. “I know you have a dress on. Just come show it to me.”
It was annoying how well he knew me.
I gave myself one more look in the mirror, debated, and then gave in, walking straight into the living room and stopping in front of Blake, who had his head bent, looking at something on his phone. “Also,” he started without looking up, “you know you don’t have to clean the entire apartment every day just because you live here now. I don’t know how you do my dishes so fast, but it’s not necessary.” He tossed his phone to the side a second later, glanced up, and froze. His entire body tensed. “Oh.”
That was the only word out of Blake’s mouth when he saw the dress. Actually, it wasn’t even a word. It was a single goddamn syllable. Just a syllable. Nothing else except for the clearing of his throat. He eventually adjusted how he was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with a patient look, both elbows resting on his knees. It felt like he was preparing to let me down easy.
“Cleaning is the least I can do since you’re letting me invade your space for the next year,” I said, forcing out a laugh as I felt heat rise into my cheeks.
“I…” Blake’s face contorted like he didn’t understand my words.
“It’s okay if you don’t like the dress.” I tried to say it casually, tucking my bare toes beneath the edge of the rug in his livingroom; years of ballet meant I had ugly, deformed feet. “Really, Blake. You don’t, do you?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he replied, but his words were slow, as if he was thinking about them very carefully—thinking about how he could tell me the truth without hurting my feelings. Because Blake didn’t lie just to soothe people’s egos. It wasn’t like him, so I could see the gears working in his head as he tried to figure out what he could say that would be both honest and kind. “You look…” He cleared his throat again. “Great. Really great.”
“Thank you.” I smiled hesitantly before cocking my head to the side. “But you still didn’t answer the question.”
His mouth opened and closed as he tried to find the right words.
“It’s just, you told me thiswasn’tgoing to be a Victoria’s Secret fashion show,” he finally said, and my jaw dropped, flailing open from his comment.
“I’m fully clothed, thank you very much,” I argued.
But Blake just sort of pressed his lips together and said, “Mhm.”
“Are you confused because you forgot I had boobs?” I asked because in glancing down at the surprising amount of cleavage this dress awarded me, I couldn’t blame him. I’dalsoforgotten what they looked like when I put them in a dress like this. I’d always thought that I was on the cusp of being in the itty-bitty titty committee—like perhaps if they were feeling generous, they’d let me in—but this dress was making me think that I actually wouldn’t have a chance. “Like, do you not like the dress because it’s weird that you can actually see them for once? Because honestly, I think that’s what’s getting me about it, too.”
“Delaney,” Blake choked out, and I couldn’t tell if he was mortified or laughing. His expression was hard to read, but his face was turning a shade I’d never seen before. “Stop. Just stop.I did not—fuck.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing like I’d physically injured him with this question. “I am…aware that you have boobs,” he rasped after a moment. “Always have been. And I did not say I don’t like the dress.”
“Okay, great. Then just give me your objective opinion,” I said, trying to reframe his thinking. I did a half spin to give him a better look, and Blake watched intently, trying his damnedest to do what I asked. But it also meant I felt his eyes like hot little daggers, and a warm flush rose up my body as I said, “Pretend you don’t know me and I’m not your best friend. You’re just a random guy, and I’m a random girl. Would you walk up to me in a bar and ask for my number?”
He raised one brow. “Are you hoping to give out your number to a lot of guys on our honeymoon, Lane?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, of course not. I’m just trying to…” I sighed, throwing my hands up in the air and giving up. “Never mind.”
I started to walk away, wanting to retreat to my room and hide my heated cheeks. But Blake saying my name stopped me in my tracks.
