Page 39 of Abby Offsides
I pull back the curtain one final time, and the look on her face tells me we’ve nailed it. The dress is a deep emerald green, low-cut enough to be sexy without being slutty, sheer long sleeves to keep in all my arm meat, a bit form-fitting but not atrocious, a hemline that hits just above my knees and shows thighs that have recently begun to be toned with the occasional Erica’s List run.
I pull the neckline up a bit, adjust my boobs, and give a little twirl in the mirror. It makes me feel one tiny iota of excitement about our outing. And that gives me confidence to say what I think Sadie needs to hear. “Do you know how Bashie feels about it? He might not be Nero. He might want to build you a perfect boat that will sail forever and ever and never even leak.”
“Okay, you have definitely lost the metaphor.” She tugs the neckline of the dress down an inch and fluffs my hair, then stands back and appraises me. “And I know I should just see how he feels, but ugh, why bother? If he says he’s not into anything serious, then I’m going to be embarrassed and what we have—whichis great—will be over. And if hedoeswant something serious, well, that might be even worse.”
“I think you might be surprised by how he feels. I think you should say something.”
“And I think you should take your own advice.” She raises her eyebrows at me in a very pointed look.
I blush and my mind reels with what she’s seen or heard or guessed. But she doesn’t let me respond, just pushes me gently into the room to change back into my regular clothes.
“Now do I need to make you an appointment for a wax, or can you take care of that yourself?”
Chapter Twenty-One
When the appointed drinks datewith Sadie arrives, I squeeze myself into my Spanx and then slip my new dress over my head. I fluff the big, voluminous waves I’ve managed to coax into my hair. The summer’s ill-conceived bangs have finally grown out, and I have a moment to remark that I look like my old self before I realize I don’t know what self that would even be. The only self I’ve got is this one. This one, today, in her one good dress, with a bit of bile roiling in her stomach.
I need to be in an Uber in the next five minutes, but I know Lachlan is in the living room and something tells me I’m not going to be able to slip out unnoticed. He’s got a big black-tie gala tonight for a charity he works with; he asked me to go with him, but as soon as I confirmed there would be cameras there, I shot him down so fast it made his head spin.
I walk into the living room as nonchalantly as possible. The clasp on my bracelet is being fiddly, and I focus on trying to close it rather than pay attention to the gasp Lachlan makes as he sees what I’m wearing.
“Fuck me, you look amazing.”
I suppress the reaction this provokes in me, the way it makes my heart stammer and my stomach swoop. “Ugh, no, I’m alreadysweating so much in this thing. Sleeves were a mistake—can’t hide the pit stains.”
He laughs. “Have you decided to come with me after all? I showered and everything, just in case.”
I look up from the bracelet and see that he’s decked out in a tuxedo with the bow tie undone, and, damn, he really pulls it off. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him in anything other than gym clothes or his Mersey kit that I forgot how nicely he cleans up. A pang of hunger shoots through my body, finding and filling the deepest parts of me. I don’t bother to mentally wave it off, because how am Inotsupposed to find him attractive right now? “Sorry mate, no gala for me.”
He tugs at the cuffs of his shirt, pulling them out from under the sleeves of his jacket. “What’s the occasion, then?”
As it so often happens, a deep red blush precedes my answer. “Um, I’m going on the pull? Is that what you people say?”
Had I blinked, I would have missed it, but I’m sure I saw a pained look flit across his face, a brief and terrifying agony. But then he cackles and I wonder if I made the whole thing up. “Going out to get some, I love it. Who with?”
“Sadie from the PL team.”
“Sexy Sadie?”
A stabbing sensation lances through the pit of my stomach. “You think she’s sexy?”
“Um, no, I mean, that’s just a nickname I’ve heard.” The tips of his ears turn red and he quickly looks back down at his cuffs.
“Smooth. Real smooth.”
He shrugs. “Okay, fine, she’s well fit. But you know who has two thumbs and would be an even better wingman for you?” He gestures at himself.
“Oh, cool, I would rather die.”
“Why? I’m Team Abby, through and through.”
“Yeah, but actually think about it. We go into a bar, dudes come get your autograph, and then what am I left with? A bunch of guys who want to date me just because I know you?”
“What’s so wrong with that? You’ll know they have great taste in men.”
“Yeah, because that’s the number one quality I look for in a sexual partner: their taste inmen.”
“Come here. Let me do that.” He points at the bracelet. “It’s just embarrassing watching someone so competent struggle with something a child could do.”
