“Go for the white one,” Jasmine said confidently. “With your hair like that, you’ll look like an angel.”
I shook my head. “Chrissy said they’re serving pasta tonight. I won’t look like an angel, I'll look like a target. Tomato sauce, white fabric, and me are three things that do not go well together.”
“Fair,” Jas agreed. “So, two dresses left to choose from; floral or red. Do you want to go cute and flirty, or sexy and seductive?”
“Neither.” I bit down on my bottom lip. “I just want to look... nice.”
“The dress you brought is nice,” Jas said, “but it’s not going to get you laid. We both know what’s happening here, so cut the crap and pick one.”
Jasmine wouldn’t fall for any false denials, so I gave in.
“Floral,” I snapped. “Give me five minutes to finish getting ready, and we’ll head over to the party.”
In the bathroom, I changed into Jasmine’s silk pink flower-covered dress. We were pretty much the same size, but it seemed I was slightly bigger in the bust, as the low-cut dress pressed tightly against my boobs.
In the mirror, I saw my breasts heave as I breathed, as though I was in a steamy period drama, which was exactly the sort of thing Jasmine designed costumes for. She was good at her job.
To tell the truth, I didn’t know what I wanted from the evening. Seeing Cameron had given me a rush of excitement I hadn’t felt in a long time, and knowing Hugh was there too made me even more nervous. But so much time had passed, and things had changed since we graduated high school; I couldn’t believe the spark would still be there for any of us.
Cameron had seemed relaxed when we met him earlier, but would he easily forgive me for ignoring and blocking him on social media? And what if we had nothing in common anymore?
Or, and this was the question that caused butterflies to dance a jig in my stomach, what if we still got along really, really well? Whatever the night had in store for me, I figured it was better to look good for it, so I made some last-minute adjustments to my makeup and left the bathroom.
Jasmine wolf-whistled. “It fits you like a glove, Muriel. Cameron isn’t going to know what hit him... or is it Hugh you’re dying to see? You three were always so tight I couldn’t work out which of them was the guy for you.”
“Shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes. My ears pricked as a horn honked outside. “Sounds like that’s our cab.”
My bungalow was in a beautiful location right by the lake, surrounded by large red cedar trees, but it was almost a mile from the event hall. Normally I’d enjoy the walk, but the weather had gotten even worse as the day turned to evening, and my rental car delivery had been delayed, although it was due any minute, so we ordered a cab. I intended to drink anyway so I wouldn’t have wanted to drive.
We arrived at the venue and ran inside to find Poppy waiting for us at the bar. The three of us grabbed drinks and walked through the hall, greeting old friends.
Chrissy had asked everyone she invited to let her know their favorite love song, and the playlist rang out around the venue.
I’d gotten chatting to someone whose face I recognized but couldn’t quite place. He seemed to know everything about me, making me feel worse for not even remembering his name.
“Yeah, my job’s going pretty well,” I replied to his question about my influencing work. “I really want to get into designing, but it’s good for now. How about you, don’t you work at—”
I had no idea what I was going to say. I didn’t want to seem like the sort of girl who’s forgotten where she came from, but my brain seemed determined to lead me into a dead end.
“John, how’s it going?”
With perfect timing, Cameron appeared at my side like a guardian angel. He gave me a subtle wink as he spoke to our old school friend. “How’re things at the bakery?”
John, the baker, of course.
I remembered him. He always aced every test in home economics. I silently thanked Cameron for saving my ass, and I sneaked a glance at him. He looked dashing in his slim-fit suit.
The two men began to discuss the thorny subject of croissants versus Danishes. I was about to join in when I caught a glimpse of Hugh across the hall, having what looked like a very intense conversation, but knowing him, it was probably small talk. He always had a way of making the most meaningless chat seem like it was the most important thing in the world, which was probably why he became a journalist—people naturally opened up to him.