Page 71 of Better Than the Movies
She was an attorney, and I’d always assumed she was amazing at her job because I’d yet to see Joss ever win an argument with her.
Jocelyn rolled her eyes and muttered something about shaking her mom until the woman’s hair fell out of its bun, which made me giggle but also think about the way Wes was always messing up my hair. It was super annoying, but something about it made me smile every time.
I cleared my throat and frowned, just to make sure I wasn’t creepily grinning into space.
That could ruin everything.
Because so far, Joss and I were having fun like a normal shopping trip. Her irritation with my reticence on senior activities and my irritation with her badgering had yet to rear their ugly heads.
It was great and I didn’t want my boy-drama lies to mess it up.
We were at our third store, and it was going the same way that it’d gone at every stop. I tried on a handful of dresses that were so-so, and every dress that Jocelyn slid into looked amazing. She was having a hard time narrowing it down to one, and I was having a hard time finding even one.
“It’s not that I look good; it’s that I’m trying on great dresses.” Jocelyn looked at me in the mirror. “You, on the other hand, keep trying on retro floral things that don’t even look like prom dresses. I know you’ve got your whole romantic-vibe thing, but try on a damn floor-length gown that is considered a prom dress, for the love of God.”
“She’s right, Liz.” Helena was eating a corn dog she’d bought in the mall while she sat on a chair and watched us try on dresses. “Just grab a stack and get rolling.”
“Step outside of your comfort zone,” Jocelyn’s mother said, giving me a maternal smile and a reassuring nod. Then she barked at Joss, “That one is too tight and the cleavage is too much. On to the next.”
I glanced at the racks and didn’t feel like any more searching. “Ugh.”
“Here. Wait.” Jocelyn held up a finger. “Go to the dressing room and wait for me. I’m going to bring ten dresses for you to try on. Just trust me.”
“But you don’t—”
“Trust me.”
I sighed and strolled back to the fitting rooms, already so done with the dress shopping. I plopped down on the bench and felt my phone buzz when I sat. I pulled it out and saw a message from Wes.
Wes: What happened to your car?
The minute I saw that the text was from Wes, I felt… something. Something good and equally confusing that I chalked up to being related to Michael. He could have been texting about Michael—that had to be the reason for my reaction.
His question cracked me up, because of course Wes would notice. My dad, the man whose name was on the title, hadn’t noticed the damage I’d done when I’d scraped the car against the side of the drive-thru post the day before, but Wes Bennett had.
Me: Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.
Wes: Are you threatening me?
Me: Only if you broach the topic of my car again.
Wes: So… um… nice weather out today, eh? Whatcha doin?
Me: Prom dress shopping. It’s awful.
Wes: Worse than shopping with me?
I thought about that for a second. Actually, yes. At least you were in a hurry. These ladies are all about stretching it out, and I kind of want to make a run for it. I think I could belly-crawl out of this dressing room undetected.…
Wes: Who are you going to prom with? I thought the goal was Michael.
My brain produced an image of Wes in a tuxedo, and I quickly cleared it.Michaelwas the goal.
“Okay.” Jocelyn appeared in the doorway with an armful of dresses. “Promise me you will try on all of these. Even if they don’t look like something you’d normally go for, just humor me and try them on for us. Deal?”
I set my phone on the bench. “Deal.”
She furrowed her eyebrows together. “Who were you texting?”
