Page 81 of Hypothetical Heart
GENEVIEVE
…
ME
There are some things friends just don’t need to know about each other.
ELOISE
Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised, you wise soul.
GENEVIEVE
Okay, enough talk about me and lingerie.
ELOISE
Winnie, what do you want to do?
ME
I’m just following the leader.
Within a minute, my phone is ringing with a call. “Got tired of texting?” I answer.
“This is easier,” Genevieve says, her faraway voice making it sound like she’s driving and her phone is connected to her car speaker.
“Winnie, how far are you really willing to go here?” Eloise asks.
I think about it for a moment. In all likelihood, I would do just about anything to be with Logan, but in this situation, I don’t want to go too extreme with my plans to rile him. Mainly because I still want to be true to myself, but also because if he catches on, our plan is ruined.
“How about we leave half-nude photos out of the agenda,” I suggest.
Their silence is agreement enough for me.
For the next bit of time, Genevieve and Eloise concoct a new plan, one that everyone feels good about–even I’m smiling by the end of our phone call.
It’s a bit later now, nearing nine o’clock, and for this to work, we need to put it into action now.
So, while Genevieve and Eloise are on their way over, I start getting ready. Their instructions: look hotter than you ever have before.
Once they arrive, I have my hair curled and my makeup done to the greatest of my ability. I’m about ready to squeeze into the skin-tight dress the girls picked out for me.
“Oh,” Eloise says, stopping me from entering the bathroom and pushing a bag into my arms. “You’re also going to want this.”
“What–”
“Trust us,” Genevieve interjects, shutting the bathroom door so I can change.
I open the bag and pull out whatever it is they think I need so badly, and I almost cringe when I see a small nude push-up bra. “What the hell is this?” I yell through the door.
“Just trust us. You’re going to look great!” Eloise replies.
I look down at the tag, seeing it’s the exact size I wear. “How did you even know my bra size?”
“Call it an educated guess,” Genevieve says.
I let out a huff, looking down at the padded contraption that is unlike anything I’ve owned before. Ripping off the tags, I begrudgingly put it on before slipping into the dress itself, and when I look in the mirror, I can’t help the gasp that escapes.
