Page 81 of Stolen Omega

“Uh, let me lay down on this comfy bed until we have to leave?”

“Not until you tell me how to fix this disaster,” she says, taking a hot pink dress from her walk-in wardrobe and showing it to me.

Holy shit. It’s ugly as fuck.

Hot pink satin. Big ass skirt with a crazy amount of underskirt puffing it out. Weird shaped top part that will cover her lady lumps but show bits of her back and stomach. It looks like she got it from the eighties and then went back to ask the chick from Pretty in Pink to make it even more hideous somehow.

Yikes.

I hope my tux isn’t hot pink velour or something equally tacky. Beggars can’t be choosers, but there is a line I hope I don’t have to cross. I’ll be seriously disappointed if I need to fall out with my ‘cool’ rich friends over an ugly suit.

“Um, I can’t tell what’s wrong with it,” I tell her. Honestly, there are too many things to count.

She sighs and strips out of her skirt and top.

I’m not sure if she realizes I’m bi rather than gay, because she has zero inhibitions about getting changed in front of me. Seriously. She whips her bra off next, and I get a peek at her lady lumps.

The dress is ugly enough to help me avoid an awkward situation in my pants from the sudden partial nudity. I’m not the slightest bit attracted to her, but seeing perky tits in real life isn’t that common for me. In fact, this might be the first time.

Damn.

My first time and it’s not with a girl I’m dating.

Well, that kind of sucks.

She shoves the pink monstrosity over her head and pulls it down.

Oh Christ, it’s so much worse than I thought.

She looks like Train Wreck Barbie in this thing.

“Uh …” I murmur, not sure where to start.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” she wails, before she flops onto the floor in front of me and buries her head in her hands.

“I don’t suppose you have a backup dress?” I ask, knowing if she does it can’t possibly be worse than this one. It’s the ugliest dress I’ve ever seen in my life, including the one from Pretty in Pink.

She looks up, a pout on her lips. “You can’t see a way to fix it?”

I shake my head after a cursory second glance. “Sorry, I don’t think it’s fixable.”

“I can’t believe this. My heels won’t be the right height with a different dress.”

I press my lips shut, holding back on telling her that’s the least of her worries.

“We’ve got time,” I offer instead.

She nods and lets out a slow breath. “You’re right.”

Going back to the closet, she takes her time getting out of the ugly dress and picking something else out. I lay down on her bed and get comfy. It’ll take her ages to pick something else. I might as well take a nap while I can.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dale

Six Years Ago

Thankfully, the dress Cherise finally settled on was much nicer than the first one she was upset about. I didn’t have to lie when I complimented how it looked, and her dull but attractive boyfriend who attends a different school was impressed when he saw her in it. I’ve only met Max a handful of times. He’s a handsome himbo with the personality of dead fish, which is what Cherise seems to like about him.

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