“I have plenty of dresses. I’m sure you’ll like something,” she stepped forward and grabbed my hand so she could drag me into her bedroom, since I wasn’t moving on my own.
“Do you have anything that says, I’m-not-really-a-slut-but-you-can-treat-me-like-one-tonight?”
Her eyes widened as she paused with the door halfway closed. “Uh…and who are you wanting to wear this dress for?”
“No one in particular,” I shrugged, looking around her room.
Her bed was against the exposed brick wall and the rest of the walls were painted hot pink. Her furniture was all various flee market pieces that had been painted bright colors. A neon green dresser caught my eye, as well as the gaudy gold mirror above it.
“Yeah right,” she snorted, finally succeeding in closing the door to block her nosy brother.
“Seriously, I just want to look hot for the night,” I mumbled, my eyes still perusing her bedroom. A crazy looking chandelier hung above the space. It looked like it had vines or something.
“And this has nothing to do with Caelan?” She gave me a look that said she was not about to be played a fool.
“Why would it?” I countered. “Caelan doesn’t even come to Cyrus’ parties.”
She continued to stare at me, like she was searching for some hidden meaning behind my eyes and facial expression. I had news for her, I had no ulterior motive. I just wanted to look hot and have some fun. It was the only reason I had agreed to go to this stupid party to begin with. I was sick of being stuck in my apartment with Brutus. I did not want to be the crazy cat lady at my age. Maybe when I was seventy. Or eighty. Or never.
Finally, I sighed, exasperated with her stare down. “Come on, Daphne, you’re a girl! Haven’t you ever had one of those days where you just need to feel feminine and wanted? I need to feel sexy,” I pleaded with her to understand. “Look at me,” I pointed to my leggings and loose tank top. “I’m a mess.”
Her face softened and her eyes held a twinkle of understanding. “You’re not a mess.”
“Trust me, I am,” I muttered, crinkling my nose in displeasure. She hadn’t caught the hidden meaning in my words. People only saw what was on the surface. As long as you looked normal, they didn’t assume you had any problems. I’d become a master at blending in. “I’m quite a failure actually.
Who just abandons their whole life?” My voice cracked and moisture filled my eyes.
Daphne tilted her head, studying me critically. “Are you okay, Sutton? Do you need to talk about it?”
I was so far past okay that I wasn’t sure I could ever find my way back. I wasn’t ready to open up completely about my life before here. I had done everything I could to bury those memories. This was my fresh start and I wasn’t going to ruin that.
“No,” I shook my head, forcing a pleasant looking smile.
“Okay,” Daphne shrugged, skipping towards her closet.
I let out a relieved breath that she wasn’t going to press me. If she had, I’d probably have run out of here like a crazy person and refused to ever speak to her again. I was nice like that.
Daphne pushed aside the shimmery purple beads that served as the barrier between her bedroom and closet, and started skimming the rack for an appropriate dress.
“What about this one?” She held out a glittery hot pink dress.
I tried to tamp down my gag reflex. “No way. I want sexy-sophisticated-slut, not I’m-pretending-to-be-a-hooker-bend-me-over-this-table-and-take-me-now.”
She rolled her eyes and replaced the dress back in its proper space. “You’re so weird. This?” She held a dress in front of her body for my inspection.
It was black on top with triangle cutouts that would show a bit of skin, but not too much, and the collar was low enough to show some cleavage without me having to worry about the lady berries springing forth into the world. The skirt part was attached to the top and it was white, black, and gold in an Aztec design.
Grinning slowly, I nodded, and reached out with grabby hands. “Gimme!”
With a shake of her head, she tossed it at me.
I caught it easily, surprised by the softness of the fabric.
“By the way,” she turned around with a mischievous smile, “you borrow my dress, then I get to do your hair and makeup. No way are you leaving here looking half-done.” She motioned to my face, which was currently makeup free, and the knot of hair on my head.
“Fine,” I agreed. I wasn’t going to complain about getting pampered.
“Yay!” She clapped her hands together, doing a strange little happy dance, where she basically stood on her tiptoes and jogged in place. “Girls day!” Looking me over, she said, “You need a shower.”