Page 30 of The One Night Dash
“All right,” I say, pacing now. “What do we do?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Elena’s got an eye. Better than mine. She can find you something that’ll make your book girl shine brighter than this one ever could.”
“Can you put her on?” I demand then shake my head and amend my assholery. “Please.”
“Give me a minute,” Sal says.
“Noelle’s dress is fucked?” Koa asks from the room.
I walk out. “Didn’t mean to wake you, man. I’ll figure it out.”
He sits up and looks at me, his look telling me he is also vested in Noelle’s dress situation.
I like that he gives a shit about her, but not as much as I should. It rubs me the wrong way, which also … rubs me the wrong way.
There’s some muffled shuffling, then a new voice, warm, confident. “Dash, it’s Elena. Send me a picture of her. I need her coloring, her lines, the way she carries it.”
“I got one,” Koa says, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and airdropping me a … video? “Nalani screen recorded this.”
“Why do you have it?” I ask with a bit of an edge to my voice.
His eyebrow raises like he’s questioning me about why I’m asking.
“Whatever,” I grumble as I watch the clip showing the dress, and then her face, cheeks pink, smile so wide it nearly breaks me. I fire it off to Elena. “Let me know when you?—”
“Got it.”
“I want her in something that makes her feel as stunning as she is.”
Koa clears his throat, and I clarify, “In this dress.”
“Give me a few minutes,” Elena says. “And a budget.”
“Whatever it takes.”
“The budget iswhatever it takes?” Elena clarifies.
“Plus, shoes. Red bottoms.”
“Do you know her size?”
Fuck.
I look back at Koa, who has a shit smirk on his face, looking at his screen, pretending he doesn’t know exactly what is going on. I hate that I have to ask because he’ll take it as a win.
I clear my throat just like he did, and he looks up. “You wanna ask Nalani, or should I?”
“About?” he asks, and I glare at him. “Noelle wears a size eight shoe. Size, ten/twelve bottom and a medium top, but sizes up to a large. She likes them baggy because she’s self-conscious about the size of her?—”
“Great, all I asked was for her shoe size.” I manage to keep my voice somewhat even.
Giggling, Elena asks, “Size eight then?”
“Yes, thank you, Elena, and I’d love it delivered to her and to make sure any alterations necessary are made to fit her perfectly.”
“I’m on it,” she says with a smile in her voice.
“Thank you. I’ll do some searching, too.”
