Page 3 of All I Desire

As I'm getting to my feet, Lauren flits in, carrying a dress encased in a plastic dry cleaner's sleeve.

"Here. Put this on. It'll be perfect with the necklace." She hands me the bag.

"Fine," I grumble. "I'm going to concede that you probably know more about this kind of thing than I do, being a famous Instagram influencer and all."

Lauren points to the bathroom. "Go. You don't have much time. Here, let me help."

She follows me into the bathroom and helps to extract the pale pink dress from the hanger. "It's ethereal. See how it's several layers of thin fabric? It’s from a boutique in London. I’ve only worn it once, when Max and I went out to dinner. I was worried he’d rip it when we were kissing—"

I pantomime a gag. “Stop. Please. You know the rules.” That’s the one downside to being friends with my brothers’ love interests. They slip up and talk about intimate stuff, as if my brothers have the sexual prowess of the most experienced porn stars. It makes me shudder to even think about.

Lauren giggles.

I take the flimsy material of the skirt between my fingers. "It looks a little delicate." I squint as I strip off my tank top.

“That black lace bra won’t go with it, not even a bit.” Lauren’s voice is matter-of-fact.

I sigh and undo the bra, letting it fall to the floor. “Braless? Really?”

“Arms up.” She slides it off the hanger and gathers the material. "It's sleeveless. You shaved, right?"

"Reluctantly." I lift my arms and inspect my pits, sniffing. “At least I smell good today.”

She slides it over my arms and down my body. "Take off your shorts."

Winking at her lasciviously, I do, fumbling with them under the layers of gossamer-like fabric. "What do you think? It makes me want to twirl like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music."

I take a spin, the uneven, gauzy hem brushing against my legs.

Lauren takes me by the arm and drags me in front of the mirror on the back of the door. "It's gorgeous. See? You look like a beach goddess. Like Botticelli’s Venus.”

I blink at my reflection and wince at the pink, frothy dress. "It looks like I've fallen into a cloud of unicorn diarrhea."

"It's perfect for the beach, and it shows off your toned arms and your curves. And it’ll look amazing in the sunset light. Golden hour. Trust me.”

“I have no curves.”

“Bullcrap, buttercup. It fits nicely up top, too. You don’t even need a bra.”

I press a hand to the deep V-neck. Admittedly, the dress almost makes me look as though I have cleavage. “It’s like an optical illusion for my boobs,” I murmur.

Lauren adjusts the necklace. “And look how it makes your jewelry pop and sparkle."

I bite my bottom lip. The necklace I've designed does look pretty incredible next to the pink of the dress. "Cool, cool. Unicorn poop it is. Thank you. What shoes should I wear?"

"The white flip-flops. You'll be on the beach, so I assume that you'll be barefoot anyway. Thank God we got mani-pedis the other day and you didn't get that awful black matte color again."

No, this time, at her encouragement, I'd gotten a pale nude color. Totally unlike me, but I'd done it to appease her because she’d wanted all of us to try out different potential colors for her wedding. Which is still months and months away.

Lauren yanks on the door and makes a trumpet sound. "Ladies, meet Natalia Hastings, Paradise Beach’s top supermodel."

I strut out, channeling my inner Tyra Banks.

There are audible gasps from Isabella, Leilani, and Kate — and from my mother, who has joined in the fun. Ma’s holding Chunky, my brother Tate’s pug, in her arms, and she’s so excited that she fumbles his rotund body. I think she’s going to drop him.

Isabella obviously has the same thought, because she whisks the snoozing canine out of Ma’s arms. Ma doesn’t notice and comes at me with outstretched hands.

"Oh, my pumpkin. I don't think you've looked so beautiful since Kate's wedding. Or that time you went to prom. You really need to wear colors like this more often. They bring out the natural pink of your cheeks. You don’t look so…" her voice trails off.

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