“I don’t have one,” I tell her.
What are they going to do? Tell me I can’t walk.
I actually appreciate the update from her. Callum hadn’t texted back, so I wasn’t sure if he got the message or perhaps decided to ignore it, as I expected him to do.
But he’s not here. Thank goodness.
“Oh, well, we have spares.” She looks at her clipboard, pulling at the gold and pearl earring on her lobe. “Just a date, not a mate,” she assures. “I’ll send him up.”
“No, thank you.”
Her gaze flashes to mine, alarmed. There was a time when I wanted to paint that perfect picture, and perfect girls are escorted by proud young men, but that desire is now gone. Alone, no white dress…I won’t look like anyone else, and while I’m not yet happy, I’m no longer trying to be something I never was.
Wentworth presses her lips together.
“She said no,” my dad reiterates before the woman has a chance to argue.
Her spine straightens like she has a pole up her ass, and nods, spinning on her heel and leaving. I almost smile. That’ll give the Garden Club something to talk about this week.
My dad pushes off the wall and turns me to face him. He takes my tie, and I look up at him under the brim of my top hat as he fixes the knot.
“Now the full Windsor is appropriate for formal settings,” he tells me, “but I like the Prince Albert myself. It looks good with more slender necks.”
He hasn’t asked about my outfit. I wonder if Mom told him everything.
I guess from the sound of it, they knew long before I did anyway.
He finishes, and I walk to the window, the light inside the stairwell making my reflection easily visible against the black night outside. “You’re right.”
I smooth down the slim tie and pop my collar, looking like a British gentleman from 1912. Fabulous.
But then Liv’s words come back to haunt me as I study the tie. I need a good handle on you. I blush, hoping she likes it. She can drag me around by it for as long as she likes, I don’t care.
Dad kisses my cheek and leaves, going to where the fathers stand, and my heart rate kicks up a notch, because I’m actually kind of wishing I wasn’t alone, after all. Everyone will be staring, and everyone else will be walking with their boyfriends or escorts, and I’ll just be standing there, nothing to distract me from all the eyes.
I could just walk out now. Leave and let my parents deal with the embarrassment they kind of deserve, but I want to do this. I always did. It’s tradition, and it’s me coming out to the community as a member of society who will be working and contributing, and I want them to see that people of value won’t always look like them.
Walking back into the hall, I head past eyes and whispers, and see Krisjen, but she’s not dressed. She veers down another hallway, and I debate following her, but it’s almost time.
Where did she take Liv’s dress when she left my house?
I stand backstage, hearing Mrs. Wentworth test the microphone, and seeing my grandmother sitting down at a table near the stage. Have my parents warned her about my attire? Probably not. I have a sneaky feeling my mom wants to ‘surprise’ her.
I close my eyes, the orchestra tuning. I still hold my phone in my hand.
What is she doing right now?
My stomach growls, and I lick my red lips, wishing I had water, but I don’t care to look for some.
A figure appears at my side, a flash of white, and I look over, my mouth falling open and my stomach dropping as I do a doubletake.
Liv stands there, her hair in shiny, silky waves down her bare back, her body adorned in the gorgeous gown she’d sent me earlier today. Her breasts bulge out of the top, and I can’t inhale a full breath.
“What are you doing?” I burst out.
She turns to look at me, and my eyes drop to her dark pink lips. I can’t stop myself. I take her in my arms, breathing her in and staring at her mouth.
“You look…” I can barely find the words. “So beautiful.”
“I hope so,” she says, that easy bantering tone back in her voice like nothing has happened. “I’m not particularly comfortable. Did you know the average woman owns twenty pairs of shoes and only wears five regularly? Wanna bet all five are sneakers?”
And before I can even laugh at her little joke, I feel my body move without my consent. I grab her face and sink my mouth into hers, exhilaration shooting up my spine when her hands take my waist and hold me back.
“Lips, lips!” I hear Krisjen shout, panicked. “Oh no. Guys, oh my God. Aracely! I need lipsticks!”