The Junior (College Years 3)

The dress is the same style as the first one but in a different print. Red with tiny cream- colored flowers. I don’t usually wear this color, but I couldn’t resist the dainty pattern of the flowers. “Do I look okay in red?”

“We match,” he says, pointing at his T-shirt. “And yes. You definitely look good in red.”

I shift around him so I can study myself in the mirror with a critical gaze, ignoring the twinge in my side. Maybe my appendix? Nah, feels more like a cramp. I’m sure it’s just a period thing. No big deal.

Caleb takes the opportunity to plop his butt onto the single bench in the dressing room, leaning against the wall with a sigh as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“May as well be comfortable,” he tells me, his gaze never straying from the screen.

“I’m getting this dress,” I tell my reflection, liking how confident I feel in it.

“You should. You look beautiful.” The compliment is offered so nonchalantly, I almost miss it.

Beautiful? I bask in the word for a moment, and in the knowledge of the one who gave it to me. Usually his compliment of choice is hot. He tells me that a lot and after a while, it doesn’t mean anything. He thinks pretty much every girl is hot.

But beautiful? That’s something else entirely. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him call a single female beautiful.

Huh.

“I’m getting both dresses,” I decide.

“Good choice.” Again, his gaze never lifts from his phone screen. He’s tapping away at it, a faint smile curling his perfectly kissable lips.

Nope. Can’t think about how kissable his lips are either. That’s a dangerous path to go down, one I don’t need. He is temptation personified. My drug of choice, and I’m an addict looking to get high every damn day on this guy. How I’ve had the strength not to just throw myself at him and beg him to take me, I don’t know.

It’s been nice though, spending time with Caleb and not letting our mutual attraction get in the way. I can definitely consider him a friend now. I feel like I know him better than all of the guys I’ve dated.

Kind of wild, when I think about it.

There are a few more dresses I want to try on and I nibble on my lower lip, contemplating how fast I can whip this dress off and slip on a new one. He might not even notice. He’s concentrating pretty hard on his phone right now, and to tell him not to look will, of course, make him automatically check me out. It’s a given.

Giving in, I gently pull the new dress off the hanger and drape it over the hook, then tug the other dress off my body, fully facing forward so Caleb doesn’t get an eyeful of my entire ass. I slip on the new dress in seconds, already kind of hating how it fits, but not quite ready to give up on it yet.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” He says this to his phone screen.

I pause mid-tug. “What do you mean?”

“Stripping in front of me.” He taps on his phone again.

I’m dying to know who he’s texting, but I have no business asking. “Did you look?”

He lifts his gaze to mine, a little snort escaping him. “Of course I looked. We may be friends but I’m not dead.”

I should be mad, but I’m not. Not at all. “Like what you see?”

He lifts a single brow. “Do you want me to like what I see, Gracie? Because that’s going against friend code, you know.”

Deciding it’s best to drop the subject, I start tugging the dress into place once again, annoyed with myself for caring. He realizes quickly I’m not going to answer him, so he resumes paying attention to his phone instead of me.

The dress I’m wearing sucks. It’s not flattering at all. I immediately take it off, standing in front of Caleb in just my bra and thong as I ponder what to try on next. Am I doing this on purpose? Yes. Yes, I am. Does he notice?

No. No, he does not. The asshole.

I make a big show of taking a new dress off a hanger, letting the hanger clatter to the floor before I bend over and pick it up, clutching the dress close to my front, my butt basically in Caleb’s face.

The dude doesn’t even notice me in all my half-naked glory. He’s too busy texting. Probably some random chick he met once at a party. I’m sure she’s pretty and easygoing and doesn’t friend zone him ever.

With a huff, I slip the dress on, my arms still up in the air as I let it fall into place. I tug the front down and away from my face to find him blatantly watching me with an amused expression.