Layla glances up at the canned lights of the dressing room. “What about it?”
“You know, when you try something on at the store and you love it, but at home it’s all wrong. Like the lighting made you lose your mind for a minute.”
She folds her arms and walks a slow circle around me. “Nah. Nope. Not this one. It’s hot. And you are hot in it.”
I glance down at the abundance of cleavage visible in the low-cut top. I can’t deny that I want to be the kind of girl who feels confident in a dress like this. Layla would, and I’d be the first to cheer her on. But me? Yikes.
Nobody said change was easy, did they? “Okay. I’ll get it.”
Layla beams. “Awesome. Go change, and we’ll check out and run to the shoe store across the way.”
“I have shoes.”
She arches a brow. “Do you? For that dress?”
“Sure.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Black ballet flats. Classic.”
She frowns. “Do you ever wear heels?”
“Not unless you count boots.”
“But you wear heeled boots? So if I put heels on your feet, you’ll be comfortable walking in them?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Good. Because that dress begs for some sexy heels.”
I smile, giddiness fluttering around in my chest. Layla’s enthusiasm is contagious, and today has been so much fun. I have new jeans and a half-dozen new shirts. And this will be the second dress I’ve splurged on today.
And dresses make me think of Dean and his promises of what he’d do if I ever wore a skirt to work. My stomach shimmies with anticipation—silly when I don’t plan on wearing this to work ever, but something about buying it just feels courageous and a little naughty.
I haven’t seen him since I left his house on Thursday afternoon, but we’ve texted a little bit. Though none of his messages have been super racy, and he definitely hasn’t surprised me with any appearances in my office. Which is . . . good, I guess?
After I change back into my jeans and T-shirt, I check out, and Layla and I head to the shoe store. Layla makes a beeline toward a pair of peep-toe strappy heels that could double as deadly weapons.
“Yes?” she asks. “I think yes.”
I nod, take a seat, and try them on. I actually like my feet. They’re cute, and I always keep up with my pedicures, so they’re even soft. Today my toenails are a light pink that matches my T-shirt, but I think I’d paint them red for these shoes.
Layla is distracted by a pair of red, sky-high stilettos, so I give in to impulse, snap a picture, and send it to Dean.
Abbi: Splurging a little today. What else should I get?
I’m slipping my Converse back on when he replies.
Dean: With those? Black lace panties and a matching bra.
“I can’t believe you!”
My head snaps up at the sound of Stella’s voice. Shit. I plop my phone back in my purse. “Huh?” My cheeks are burning. She’s standing right in front of me. Did she see whom I was texting? What we were talking about? I didn’t want my friends finding out about this, but this has the potential to be more embarrassing than what I imagined.
“You never go shopping with me!” She folds her arms across her chest and sticks out her bottom lip. “I feel betrayed.”
Relief is like a cool breeze across my hot cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Layla spins around, still holding a red stiletto. “Stella! Hi! What do you think of this shoe? Does it say, I do what I want?”
Stella grins. “I’m pretty sure you deliver that message no matter what you’re wearing.”
Layla laughs. “True.” She looks back and forth between us. “If you’re shopping, why don’t you hang with us? We still need to get lingerie and . . . maybe a piercing.”
“A piercing?” I ask, genuinely curious. Sexy panties don’t scare me. I might be the only one who sees them, but I like to feel good about what I’m wearing beneath my clothes. “What kind of piercing?”
Layla cocks her head to the side and looks me over. “Nose or navel. You choose.”
Stella gapes at her then at me. “You’re going to get a piercing?”
I already have my navel pierced. It was a crazy, impulsive college thing I did after Cody told me he thought navel piercings were hot. When I surprised him with it, though, he just shrugged and said it was “okay” but maybe I should get rid of it so people didn’t think I was trying too hard.
Keeping my navel ring was the most rebellious thing I ever did in that relationship, and every time I’ve thought about taking it out for good, I don’t out of sheer spite for the guy who broke my heart. Real mature.
Layla puts down the shoe and nods. “She wants a makeover, and in my experience, not much makes a girl feel hotter and in control of her body than a new piercing or a new tattoo.”