Page 14 of Lost Summer
More to the point, I had nothing to wear.
My stomach swirled—half nerves, half panic. “Am I supposed to go as I am?” I asked, gesturing awkwardly to my black trousers and white shirt, which were far from glamorous.
“I’ll arrange an afternoon off for beauty appointments. God knows you need it.” The words landed like slaps—less a compliment, more an observation. “Salon at two, hair by four-thirty. Limo picks you up at six-forty. Don’t embarrass us—wear something decent. See Lizzie in fashion if you must. Now, go.”
The words barely formed on my lips before I scurried from her office, Evelyn’s sigh echoing behind me.
As I walked, trying to banish the spiralling dread forming at the thought of tonight, a familiar low voice reached my ears.
“Hey, mama. So I hear you’re my date tonight, right?”
My shoulders slumped slightly.Here we go.
Turning, I found Marco’s handsome smirk hovering at the corridor’s edge. His sandy hair was tousled, and his fitted navy suit emphasised years of gym dedication.
“Marco,” I responded, forcing a tight smile. The memory of that awkward Christmas party surfaced, bringing with it a wave of regret. “Yes, it seems so.”
He leaned casually against the wall, his smile widening like a kid on Christmas morning. “Guess we’re making it a night to remember, huh? Can’t wait to see you all dressed up.”
“Right. Can we maybe?—”
“I’m thinking...” He paused dramatically. “You should come back to mine after.”
My pulse jittered at the suggestion, my mind already formulating weak excuses. “I don’t think that’s a?—”
“If you’ve got a boyfriend, tell him I’m a friend.” His grin was nothing short of wicked.
I smiled, wondering if I could pretend Ernie, the cat, was my boyfriend. As far as they went, he was one of the best I’d had. No arguments as long as he was fed, and he loved me unconditionally.
Carey reappeared at that moment, thrusting a latte into my hands, her chest heaving with the exertion of her Starbucks sprint.
“Soya milk, right?”
It wasn’t, but bless her soul; this desperate morning needed a boost.
“Perfect,” I muttered, taking a grateful sip.
Tonight was going to be a nightmare.
7
TED
“Ilook fat.”
“You don’t. You look fine,” I grumbled, wondering for the millionth time what I was getting myself into.
In front of me, Elena twirled effortlessly, her caramel hair tumbling past her shoulders like molten gold. The dress she wore—a shimmering gown so tightly fitted it could’ve been painted onto her—clung to her hips and accentuated every curve.
Elena gave me a sidelong glance. “You should pay more attention to your body. You’re slacking, Edward. It’s because you’re always eating takeaways,” she said with a sigh. “Stick to salads, darling, or you’ll have a gut by forty.”
“Thanks,” I replied wryly, pulling back slightly. Even her light touch felt too heavy, like she was pressing down on my soul. “And FYI, I like takeaways.”
She huffed, narrowing her eyes as she caught her reflection in the small mirror she always carried. “Well, unless you want me planning your funeral at fifty, lay off them. Everyone important will be here tonight. Stay next to me.”
It wasn’t a request; her slim fingers fluttered almost possessively over the crook of my elbow.
I sighed inwardly. “I fucking hate shit like this.”
