Page 61 of Villainous
“Not until dinner. And you better not ask Wyatt either.”
“Fine,” he says, then grabs his Nintendo Switch. “Are you going out with Da again?”
“Yeah, we’re just having dinner.”
“Are you two getting back together?”
I sense the hopefulness in his tone, and I don’t want to break his heart. I’ve been pondering all day if I want to make things work out with Villainous, but I don’t know yet. At this point, I’m unsure of what I want.
“Can you leave? I need to get dressed,” I say to AJ.
“Is it okay for me to go in the backyard?”
I smile. “Sure.”
My phone pings with a notification, and Villainous’s name pops up.
Aiden: I’m going to be ten minutes late to our date.
Me: You mean dinner.
Aiden: Date. I’ll pick you up.
Me: I’ll have my bodyguard drop me off. It’s no biggie.
Aiden: Okay. I love you.
I place my phone in my pocket.
“Why do you have that stupid grin on your face?” Noemi asks, gobbling down her last piece of candy.
“Villainous sent me a few text messages.”
I need to find something to wear, and I don’t know what I want to dress in. The restaurant he picked out isn’t fancy and has the best BBQ in the Bronx. Noemi trails behind me as I pad to the walk-in closet. I snatch a dress from the hanger and place the dark maxi dress against my body and hug it. No, this won’t do—this dress says ‘fuck me,’ and I promised myself I wasn’t going to give in to Villainous when it comes to sex, despite how much I crave him.
“Let me help you pick out a dress for this date,” Noemi says.
I haven’t had any real girl time in a long time, not since Shelby and Fiona. And speaking of Fiona, I need to call her again. I’ll do it after I return from our date.
Noemi yanks out a yellow dress, with a pair of black pumps. I used to wear those while stripping. I don’t want to go back to stripping. It reminds me too much of my family, of what I’m not. I love dancing but not that form of it.
“Not the shoes. How about a pair of Converse? I’m pretty sure Villainous is going to want to take a stroll through Brooklyn Bridge Park. He loves walking at night, especially when he’s nervous.”
“Black Converse don’t go with the yellow.” She eyes the dress with disgust.
“It can. I’ll look like a sunflower if I wear my sunflower leggings under it.” I stand on a stool and yank open a drawer with different colored leggings. It’s so easy to find things because everything is organized by color.
“You have weird taste in clothing,” she states.
She grabs my black Converse and does my hair in a neat bun. Once she’s finished with my hair, she ushers me to the bathroom, where she grabs my makeup bag and smears foundation onto my face.
“Are you and Mr. Vitali getting back together?”
I chew on my tongue. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve been going back and forth with myself with it.”
“Can I give out my honest opinion?”
“Of course.”
