Page 71 of Love & Notes

“Girl, get your coat. We’re going shopping.”

Maddie’s idea of shopping and my idea of shopping are definitely not the same idea.

My idea involves a budget, a list, and a clear strategy. Maddie’s idea involves walking into every shop with complete confidence and no plan whatsoever.

“What about this one?” She holds up an orange floor-length dress with ruffles.

“Maddie…”

“You don’t think the color says something?”

“It says several things. None of them are the things I want people to say at the Thorne gala.”

She hangs it back up. “Fair.” She moves along the rail with bounding energy. “What’s the vibe, then? Like, what look are you going for?”

“I want to look like I belong there,” I say. “Without actually trying to look like I’m trying to look like I belong there.”

Maddie turns to face me. “That’s actually very wise.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m just making a mental note. We are going to find the perfect dress.” She turns back to the rail, her fingers flying over the hangers. “Okay, so not orange. Something that will make Julian Thorne lose his mind when he sees you—without technically trying to make Julian Thorne lose his entire mind?”

She looks at me for confirmation.

“That’s—” I pause, a sudden heat rushing to my face at the thought of his eyes taking in my body. “Yes. That.”

We are in the third shop of the afternoon, a thrift store located two blocks from the Academy. Maddie has been telling me about it for months. Apparently, she’s found some of her favourite pieces in here, and Maddie always looks fantastic, so it’s bound to have something. It’s crammed floor-to-ceiling with rails of clothes organised by color rather than size, with a woman at the front desk who seems genuinely amused by Maddie’s enthusiastic approach.

I’ve been standing in the black section for ten minutes, methodically sliding hangers across the metal rail when my fingers suddenly stop.

The fabric is silk or something very close to it. It’s a floor-length dress, with delicate spaghetti straps—a minimalist cut that is so simple but deadly. At the back sits a large, structured white silk bow, resting right below the waist before trailing down. It’s the exact kind of detail that should not work, but it’s the entire point of the dress.

The bow. It’s perfect.

I stand holding the hanger for a moment, my breath caught in my throat.

“Maddie…” I start, holding the dress up and waiting for her approval.

She turns around, her eyes widening as she takes it in. “Oh.”

“It’s—”

“It’s so you.” She nods. “It’s completely, entirely you. Quick. Put it on, and see if it fits… God, I hope it fits.” She starts clapping her hands together. “Ah, it is perfect.”

The changing room is a curtained space at the back—barely a changing room at all, and not big enough to actually turn around comfortably. There’s a small, tilted mirror, but I can’t see the whole dress properly in the dim lighting.

I don’t need to see it.

I step out through the curtain. Maddie’s reaction is all I need.

“Ellise,” she gasps, her hand flying over her mouth.

“What do you think?”

“Don’t ask me if it’s okay. It’s the exact opposite of okay. This dress was waiting for you specifically. It is better than perfect.”

I look down at the black silk and at the way it falls, the high slit up the leg showing a little more than I am used to. Then I glance over my shoulder at the crisp white bow sitting at my waist.