Page 89 of Feel Free to Scream

The lower layers are tulle, with a satin skirt underneath, and the top, a slightly shiny fabric I can’t name.

This is my own wardrobe, except adult.

“Can I borrow this?”

“Oh!” she grins, looking at the dress. “Darling, you can have it. I bought it as a joke of sorts. I don’t do the whole cute pink thing anymore.”

That much is true. Currently, she’s wearing ripped tights, a denim skirt, and a tank top with mesh sleeves underneath. I’m pretty sure she’s ready for dinner, too. What’s more, she looks sexy as hell. She wouldn’t have freaked over her wardrobe like I did.

Except this dress tells another story.

“If you don’t mind, it’s perfect.”

“Hang on, I have something else. It’ll make you feel great for tonight.”

She tosses a light bundle wrapped in paper at me.

Opening it, my jaw drops. “Is that…?”

“Yep.”

I blink. “But it’s all…”

The pink-haired emo chick grins. “The word is crotchless, darling.”

35

CLAIRE

It turns out, Dez wasn’t dressed. When she and Markus slide into the back of Keller’s car, she’s in a short, black tutu skirt with a dark green boned top, positively sinful.

“Where are we eating?” Markus drawls.

“SLAB,” Keller replies, and Dez bounces a little on her seat.

“Oh, goodie! I haven’t had been in ages.”

“Slab?” I repeat, crossing my legs and blushing.

This dress is far, far too short for what I’m wearing underneath. I catch Dez’s eyes, and she grins knowingly.

“S.L.A.B. Best place for steaks, and they’re fairly fast, as well as close to the movie theater.”

After the short drive into town, Keller drops the couple off in front of the restaurant. I opt to stay with him as he finds somewhere to park.

I expect it to be a struggle in the busy, small-town center, but he just rolls in behind one of the largest buildings in town, where a private parking lot is tucked in. He enters a code and rolls forward.

I shake my head. “Is everything easy for you guys?”

“I don’t know. I had to coerce one girl to give me a chance.” He winks.

We haven’t driven very far from the restaurant, but a pressing issue becomes apparent within a few feet.

Dez is shorter than me, with more butt, while I beat her in the breast area, but we’re the same shoe size. She convinced me to wearallher things tonight, shoes included. And while the four-inch white heels make me look amazing, I am not good at actually walking in them.

“Sorry I’m so slow,” I groan, embarrassed, holding on for dear life to the elbow he lends me.

“Don’t be. They’ll hold my table however long. Besides, Markus is already there.”

---