Page 43 of Jack Frost
"He doesn't have a—his phone is broken."
Karyl frowns. "So the boy can buy designer rags, but he doesn't have a working phone?"
I give her an apologetic smile.
"Here's what we're gonna do." She places both hands on her hips. "I'm going to do your face and shape up that pixie cut of yours, and we're gonna talk about this boy."
I can't answer all her questions, especially not with her daubing and lining makeup all over my face, but I do my best, giving vague replies to anything I don't know, which is a lot. Guilt settles in my stomach, because I haven't really asked Jack much about himself—his likes or dislikes, the family he used to have. We mostly talk about me, or about magic.
"I can tell you like him." Karyl squeezes the straightener around a wisp of my hair, then tucks the stray lock deftly into place. "You keep turning all pink and fluttery."
"I do not. I'm not that kind of girl."
"Not 'til now."
My stomach thrills. Okay, maybe I am that kind of girl now. That doesn't change the fact that I'm still not sure how Jack feels about me, or how I would fit into his life.
Also why am I even thinking about fitting into his life? I barely know him!
"Don't laugh at what I'm going to say, please." I hold up a reproving hand to Karyl. "I'm only asking because I have literally no one else to ask."
"Well, now I feel real special." She grins wryly. "Go on."
"Is it possible to fall in love with someone in a few days?"
Her smile broadens, but then she reins it in. "Baby, I fell in love with Sarah in a few hours. It can take years to know some people, to get down to the depths of their heart, the nice and the nasty. With others—doesn't take long at all. And sometimes the universe steps in with a challenge, and people get a chance to show you who they really are, right off the bat. The way I see it, you can't help who you love, or how fast. The only thing you get to choose is whether or not to act on it." After a few final tweaks to my hair, she adds a spritz of hairspray to keep it in place. "Now for that dress."
The strapless bra fits perfectly. Jack must have checked the size on the one I left in the bathroom, and maybe he also consulted with someone who knows women's bodies. It's snug enough to be secure, but not so tight that I can't breathe properly. The dress glides over my body as if I was born to wear it, and once the necklace and earrings are added, I feel like a literal ice princess. Even the silver shoes fit me well, with a little adjustment to the straps.
When I walk out into the living room, Karyl claps. "Cinderella off to the damn ball! Now where's your Prince Charming?"
Suddenly I'm terrified that Jack will come swirling into the apartment and give himself away. "I'm just going to meet him there. You should go—thank you so much—"
She feigns a frown. "So I've completed my task as your best friend, and now you're shooing me out? I see how it is. A little makeup, a little advice, then out the door."
"You know you mean more to me than that." My throat tightens.
"I do. I'm just playing with you, babe." She squeezes my hand. "Well, this has been a nice break from mama duty, but I should get back. It's our first Christmas Eve with Darla. You best have a gift for that baby when you come tomorrow."
"I have gifts for all three of you." I've never been so grateful to my past self for planning ahead and buying the presents before I went on the Antarctic trip. "See you tomorrow. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, my love." She gives me a very careful hug, so as not to damage my look—though honestly it feels fairly sturdy—and then she slips out the door.
A relieved sigh wafts from me. Now Jack can't sweep in and scare the pants off my dearest friend.
The door pops open again, and Karyl leans in. "Um, Emery—somebody here for you." She stares at me very hard and mouths the word "gorgeous" before disappearing into the hallway. "Good to see you, Jack."
"Same to you, Karyl."
At Jack's husky voice, my stomach thrills again.
He appears in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space. He's wearing a sweeping dark blue coat that flows behind him, flashing glimpses of silver lining. His dress shirt is crisply white, with a faint glimmering pattern of snowflakes across the material. It looks designer-level pricey to me, as do the black pants encasing his slim legs. His boots have a ridiculous number of straps and buckles—they must take forever to put on. But I have to admit the overall effect is pretty damn sexy. It's also a little odd for a formal benefit. But I suppose no one will care, as long as he contributes cash.
And he's doing the rom-com freeze. Where the guy stares at the girl when he sees her in a fancy dress for the first time? Yeah. That's exactly the way Jack is looking at me, and I have to admit—I love it. I never went to a prom, and my exes never took me anywhere fancier than an Olive Garden restaurant.
"I imagined you in that dress." Jack's voice sounds raw, probably from smoke inhalation, but his face looks as flawless as ever. "But my imagination was obviously lacking, because you—you're so—you're sublime."
"Sublime?" I giggle.
