Page 17 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
Mood thoroughly soured, I take off the dress and get back into the grubby shorts and oversized t-shirt that’ve become my uniform when I’m not forced to look human for client calls. I send Lauren a quick thanks, then grab Bessie and head toward my nest.
I don’t get more than a minute of wallowing time before my phone rings. I ignore it, but whoever it is calls again. With agroan, I look and see it’s Astrid. I’d ignore it, but what if it’s an emergency?
“Hey, what’s up? Is everything okay?” I answer, recognizing how exhausted I sound but unable to muster any energy.
“Were you sleeping?” There’s no sign of judgement in her question, but embarrassment still rises in me.
“No, just… in my nest.”
“Oh nice. How’s Bessie doing?”
I snort, looking at the strawberry cow plush sitting in my lap. “She’s good. Working overtime lately, though.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mind.” I’m sure it’s weird as hell to Astrid that I have an emotional support cow, and I appreciate she doesn’t sound judgmental. “Did you get the dresses? They were supposed to be delivered today.”
Ah, that’s why she’s calling.
“Yeah. Thanks again for your help.” I don’t do a great job of hiding my feelings about her selection because she huffs.
“That’s it? Did you try them on? What did you think?”
I sigh, guilt making my stomach clench. “They’re… not exactly what I was looking for. But I still appreciate you so much for getting them.”
“Oh, come on, you've gotta give them a shot. Otherwise, I’m coming over and forcing you to give me a fashion show.”
“I tried one of them,” I protest.
“And?” Astrid asks impatiently.
“It looked fine. It’ll be fine. I’m sorry, I’m all in my head and dreading going to the event.”
“I knew it would look good! You never want to wear black, but when I saw it, I knew it was perfect.”
“Wait, how do you know it’s the black one? Did you install hidden cameras in my house to make sure I haven’t devolved into a total slug?”
Astrid laughs. “No hidden cameras. Just a bit of trickery. You fell right into my trap.”
“Are you saying you intentionally bought those other dresses to make me pick the one you wanted me to wear? Why? Now I have to return a bunch of things that you knew wouldn’t work,” I grumble, dreading another trip down to the mailroom, or worse, the post office.
“You wouldn’t have given the black dress a shot if you weren’t desperate,” Astrid says matter-of-factly. “Besides, those other dresses would look amazing on you, so you should keep them.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I sigh, refusing to acknowledge her suggestion of keeping the slutty dresses because I know it’s a trap to get me to talk about the pack.
“Part of my charm,” Astrid says with another laugh. “Okay, the dress is perfect, as predicted. So why are you in your nest crashing out with Bessie?”
“First of all, rude. I’m not crashing out. I’m… self-regulating.” I prop my chin on Bessie’s head and release a sigh as she purrs. “Besides, it’s not the dress that’s the problem. It’s the whole me having to go to a party alone and have people stare at me in it that’s tripping me up.”
“Well, there’s a simple solution to that. Why don’t?—”
“I swear to God, if you say I should bring Jackson or Ambrose, I’m hanging up. You know I can’t do that.”
“I wasn’t going to say that!” Astrid protests with a huff. “I was going to say you could bring me.”
“Oh.” My agitation deflates, replaced quickly with guilt. Astrid’s trying to help, and I’m being rude. I hate how volatile I’ve been. I don’t want to snap at my best friend for no reason. “I’m sorry. I appreciate you so much, and if you could come, that’d be very helpful.”
“I know you do, Cami. And don’t be sorry. I like snippyCamille a lot better than detached from everything Camille. If my being your date will help you get out and have a little fun, then I’m there.”
“It will absolutely help.” I bite my tongue so I don’t say how I doubt it will be fun. It’s still going to be a nightmare, but at least I’ll have someone to help fend off the worst of it.
