Page 30 of Bad For A Weekend

Dad, Ziggy’s mom, Bette, and Brandy snack on a charcuterie board and vote on mine and Ziggy’s options. We’re met with either gasps or boos, depending on the style. Ziggy ultimately decides on a winter green suit coat, a black button-down that he’ll unbutton to mid-chest, of course, and skinny black slacks with a pair of green Nikes to match the coat.

I don’t have as much luck finding something I like. For one, I’m short, only an inch over five feet, and I have a cheerleader’s body. My shoulders are broad, my waist is nonexistent, and I’m tiny. Whatever I choose will have to be tailored, but it’s hard to picture what a dress will look like when all I see is me swimming in a bunch of fabric.

“Try this one,” Carla, the stylist, says, holding up a beautiful sleeveless sequined gown. “Do you see the way the dark sequins run along the middle and then continue down the hips while the light colors are up on top and down the center?”

I nod, loving how it reminds me of a mermaid. Both in color—dark green, sea foam, and pink—but also in the cut. Normally, I steer clear of long dresses since they make me look shorter, but I’ll try anything at this point.

“It will give the illusion of a waist and hips while also making you look tall.”

I frown. “Guess my shortcomings are pretty obvious, huh?”

“None of us are perfect, my dear.” She hands me the dress and boops my nose.

If there’s one thing I hate about being pint-sized, it’s the way everyone treats you like a child. It doesn’t matter that I’m eighteen, have been all over the world, and will graduate high school with an Associate’s degree. Because I’m short, I’m not taken seriously.

Choosing to ignore the jab, I take the dress to the bathroom and change. The second it’s on my body, I know it’s the one. My boobs look immaculate with the deep V held together by a sheer dark green fabric, and Carla was right. The way the colored sequins are placed makes me look like I have an hourglass figure. The illusion is magical.

I open the bathroom door and step into the hallway, accidentally running into Owen.

“Excuse m—” The word dies on his lips as his gaze slowly lowers down the length of my body, his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry. It was my fault. I was excited to show everyone this dress.” I pop my hip and raise my arms in the air.

“You look”—he swallows hard—“very nice.”

Very nice?Is that even a compliment?

“Uh, thanks. I think.”

“No, I mean beautiful. You look beautiful.”

It’s comical watching this impassive man stumble over his words.

“Thank you. I think I need to change my hair, though. All these colors are a little clownish.”

“Do what you want, but if you’re asking my opinion, I think you should keep it. It suits you.”

“Clownish hair suits me?”

He rolls his eyes. “No. I just mean, you’re special. The kind of person who deserves to stand out in a crowd.”

All the air leaves my lungs, and I’m stunned silent, unable to think of how to respond because that was the nicest compliment I’ve ever received. And it means even more coming from him.

“Come on, Bay. Show us the dress,” Ziggy shouts, interrupting the moment.

Owen glances down the hall. “You better get out there. The crowd is getting restless.”

“Yeah, okay.” I stumble over the five inches of fabric pooling at my feet, but Owen catches me.

“Here.” He offers his elbow. “Can’t have you busting your ankle again. Especially before prom.”

His bicep flexes under my touch. He’s solid, and it has me itching to reach for other places that might be hard. Wetness pools between my legs, and my nerve endings fire.

“Thank you.”

With him in his expensive suit and me in this dress, it’s easy to pretend he’s my date. Instead of prom, he’s accompanying me to one of the charity events Dad sometimes drags me to. God, how I wish that was my reality. I wish things were different and that the one man who makes me feel safe could also be the man I give my everything to. It’s stupid and so far from reality, but for the ten seconds it takes him to walk me to the living room, I lose myself in the fantasy.

“Oh my God, yes!” Carla hollers. Owen deposits me in the center of the room before walking out the back door. There was no reason for him to stay, but I’m still disappointed.

---