Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 148188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
She pulls a black dress out from her bag. “I can’t wear anything you own.” I don’t know what she’s thinking.
“You can too. It’s a dress.” She holds it up for me to see. The dress cuts low in the front and I know my boobs are going to be on display. Something I’m guessing she planned. Amelia says I have the best boobs and that she has boob envy. I think they just get in the way and stretch out the cute little cat faces on my shirts, but whatever. I want legs as long as hers but obviously we can’t have it all.
“Trust me.” She brings the dress over to me. “I’m tall and flat.” She motions to her boobs that aren't really flat. They fit her frame. “The dress will ride up higher on you which is good because it would be too long otherwise.” That’s her nice way of saying my legs are short.
I take the dress from her knowing this is a battle I’m never going to win. I drop my robe. She helps me put it on so I don’t mess up my hair or makeup.
“Damn girl.” She smiles, wiggling all around. Way too excited about this.
“I’m scared to look.” I laugh but I take the few steps over to the full length mirror that hangs on the inside of my closet door.
“Oh.” I look sexy. I stare at myself for a minute. I still look like me but I scream sex appeal. “I like it,” I admit. I know I’ll feel a little uncomfortable in it because I’m not used to wearing stuff like this. But I do look cute, instead of trying to hide my curves they are accentuated by the dress. My boobs and butt look good. If I do say so myself.
“Now the shoes.” I cringe. “Just give them to me.” We wear the same size. Like I said before, it’s not that I’m bad in heels they just start to hurt my feet after a few hours. Amelia always says that my feet were made to wear heels. Both my feet and I beg to differ. I won’t have to worry about the length of time I’m wearing them anyway. Since neither my blind date nor I particularly want to be there, it should be an early night. I’ll be home before my feet can even begin to ache.
“I went easy on you. Chunky heels and only a few inches.” I’m in shock but also thankful. I snatch the black shoes from her that have dark blue and purple glitter on the heel. They are adorable. I sit on my bed putting them on before I switch purses to match my outfit.
“We ready?” Amelia is in a red dress that makes her long blonde hair look shinier than normal.
“Yep. Sam is meeting us there.” Her phone dings. “Uber is here.” My stomach forms knots. It feels wrong going on this date but Amelia is right; I need to get out. This is only an icebreaker to get my feet wet. I’m just not sure why it feels like a betrayal. The sexy voice from yesterday still tingles in my ear. I shake my head of those thoughts knowing that they are absurd. I’ve talked to Mr. Kennedy one time. I’m being ridiculous. I need to stop reading all of those insta-love stories.
By the time we get to the restaurant my stomach is in a million knots. Sam pulls out a chair for Amelia as we all sit down and the first round of drinks is ordered. We sit in idle chit chat as I sip on my wine wishing this guy would get here already so that I can eat and we can go home. I want to get this first awkward encounter over. Each second I grow more and more anxious.
“Are you sure he’s coming?” I ask Amelia as the first thirty minutes pass. The restaurant is nice and I feel a little out of place even dressed up nice like I am.
“Kim said he would and she’s solid on her word.” She picks up her phone. I’m guessing to text her. “I know the guy is some big shot business man so maybe he got hung up at work,” she suggests as she clicks away on her phone. Or maybe he saw me and took off? That’s my self-loathing thought. As much as I hate that I have it, it’s still there. I don’t even know why I care. I’ve been trying to get out of this from the beginning. Planning all sorts of ways to leave after dinner. But that’s me leaving. Him not showing up or the thought of him seeing me and leaving has my insecurities coming out. It also has my anger rearing its head.