Page 77 of In Your Wildest Dreams
I’m trying on a dress that I think I wore to a junior Homecoming party when my phone starts ringing from somewhere underneath the pile of discarded clothes.
On the fourth ring, I manage to find it. Ash’s name flashes on the screen with a FaceTime call. I don’t have long to consider whether to answer before it goes to voicemail, so I press accept.
My pulse kicks up a notch when his face appears. That playful and sexy smile of his widens as his gaze roams over me.
“Hey.”
“Uhh. Hi.” I can see myself in the small frame on the bottom right-hand side of the screen. I showered this morning and then threw my hair up into a ponytail. I’m not a troll under the bridge, but this is not how I would have chosen to look if I’d known he was going to video call me.
I do my best to push away any insecurity about how I look. If he wants the kind of girl who sits around at home wearing a full face of makeup with perfect hair, FaceTime-ready at any moment, then he should just know that’s not me.
“I’ve got about ten minutes before my mom finds me and makes me help decorate the tree. Thought I’d call instead of text.” He leans back against a wooden headboard.
“You’re avoiding your family already?”
“Not my family. Decorating the tree.”
“I thought everyone loved doing that.”
“Not me. My mom and sisters say they want me to be a part of it, but then they go behind me and move every ornament to a different spot.”
Laughing, I push some clothes out of the way to make a spot for me to sit on my bed. “Do you have a tree at your house?”
“Yeah, but my housekeeper decorates it.” He looks a little sheepish at the admission. “What are you up to?”
“I made a very big mistake,” I say and then move the phone to show him my messy bed.
His eyes widen.
“I thought I’d clean out my old closet, but it sucked me in.”
That easy smile returns and his gaze dips to what he can see of my outfit. “Are you trying on all your old clothes?”
“Maybe.”
He shifts on the bed he’s sitting on and props one arm behind his head. “I’m intrigued. Show me more.”
“You must really hate hanging ornaments.”
“Or really like looking at you.”
My face flushes but I get up and go to the full-length mirror attached to the back of my closet door.
I flip the camera so he can see the dress I’m wearing. “Don’t laugh. It barely fits anymore, but I love it.”
“I like it,” he says. “Blue is a good color for you. What else you got?”
For the next half hour, I try on various pieces from my closet and Ash helps me decide whether to keep them. Or he tries. He doesn’t put a single thing in the throwaway pile.
I draw the line at an old tube top that is so tight across my chest it hurts my boobs.
“No way. It barely fits anymore. I was a few sizes smaller then.” I pull at the top.
“From what I can tell, it fits perfectly.”
I laugh. “You’re no help.”
“I can’t help it if everything you put on looks good.”
