Page 73 of Better Than the Movies
I unzipped the dress and shimmied out of it while texting.
Me: My preferences don’t exactly match up with prom trends, and the people I’m with don’t care.
Wes: Ah. You want flowers, pockets, and old lady ruffles, and they want you to wear something hot.
Why did his take on most things—even when he was mocking me—make me laugh? I smiled and reached for the black gown. It was short in the front and long in the back, with a top that tied behind the neck. I was about to step into it when my phone buzzed.
Wes: Don’t forget that white is your color, gurl.
Okay—that made me laugh out loud. I glanced at the dresses, and therewasa white one in there. I dropped the black one and reached for it. And wow.
It was actually… wonderful.
It was strapless, with a simple silk bodice that tapered into a white beaded belt and a long, full floor-length skirt. It was stunning in that 75 percent of the dress was simple and understated, and then along the bottom there was a burst of colorful wildflowers.
I pulled it on, sucking everything in as I slid the side zipper into place. And when I looked at my reflection—
I grabbed my phone. You might be right, Bennett. The only dress I’ve liked so far is white. WTF is with you nailing my fashion?
I lifted my hair and turned sideways to see the back. It was really a glorious dress. And when I ran my hands down the sides, I found pockets.
Wes: Why do you ever doubt me?
Me: Good judgment. Experience.
Wes: Pic, please.
“What?”I said it to myself, and a nervous snort came out of me even as I thought about the best angle. God, why was I thinkingthatwhen it was Wes asking? I muttered a stream of obscenities—shit, shit, shit—under my breath before finally responding with Um, that’s a big no.
Wes: Okay, then send me a pic of something else just so I feel included.
I looked around the fitting room for something funny to send him, and then I thought—what the hell? I took a picture of the gown in the mirror and texted it to him.
Had I really just done that? Had I really just sent Wes Bennett a motherlovingprom dressselfie? Holy shiiii—
“Liz! Do you have a dress on?” Jocelyn was yelling from her spot in the gallery. “You need to let us see, because even though they’re not your style, one of thosewillwork, dang it.”
I dropped my phone and went out to the big mirror. Like it wasSay Yes to the Dressor something, Jocelyn and Helena both gasped and covered their mouths with their hands when I stepped in front of them. Jocelyn’s mom just smiled.
“That dress was made for you.” Jocelyn crossed her arms. “Please don’t tell me that you hate it. You can’t.”
“You look incredible.” Helena was on her feet, smiling like she was about to get teary-eyed. “Do you like it?”
I shrugged. “It has pockets. And flowers. I pretty muchhaveto get it, right?”
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and knew—I just knew—that my mother would’ve loved that dress. She would’ve picked out that dress for me. Heck, she would’ve worn that dress herself if she’d had reason to go formal. Maybe she couldn’t be there, shopping with me, but finding that dress was something, right?
“Oh, Libby, I can’t wait for your dad to see you in this.” Helena’s head was tilted to the side and she was smiling, but her words were like a bucket of cold water, jolting me back to the momless present. Because what Helena had just said was exactly what my mother would’ve said if she’d been there. In fact, I could perfectly hear her lilting voice saying those words.
But Helena wasn’t my mom, even if she was suddenly calling meLibbylike she was.
I crossed my arms over my chest and needed to be out of that dress STAT. “I’m going to go change.”
“Aren’t you excited?” She gave me a smart-ass excited look and a fake fist pump that probably would’ve cracked me up an hour ago. “You found your dress.”
“Sure.” I watched her smile falter, but I couldn’t stop myself. Some part of me believed that if I didn’t push back, she was going to erase the fact that my mother had ever existed. I thought about the whole day Helena had planned. I just wanted to be alone. “I’m not hungry, by the way, so can we just go home after this?”
Helena glanced at Jocelyn and her mom, who were thankfully talking to each other and not paying attention to us, before she said, “Sure. If that’s what you want.”
