Текст книги "Since You've Been Gone"

Автор книги: Morgan Matson

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

12

GO SKINNY-DIPPING

“I can’t believe this,” Collins said as we stood in a line on the sand, still fully dressed, and looked out at the water. “And this was Emily’s idea?”

“Yep,” I said, still getting my head around that fact myself. “It’s for the list.”

“Please,” Collins said, waving this away. “This is all just a grand scheme to check out my bod.  You can admit it.”

“So, um,” Dawn said, twisting her hands together, sounding more nervous than I’d ever heard her, “do we have a plan? Like, are we going to go in one at a time while everyone else looks away? Or all at once? Or . . .”

“Emily?” Frank said, looking over at me with a smile, even though I could see he was blushing—which he really hadn’t stopped doing since I’d proposed this, back at the wedding.

Maybe it had been the hours of dancing, or the slow-dancing with Frank, or the fact that I’d been dehydrated, but skinny-dipping had sounded like such a good, easy option back then. But now, actually standing in front of the water and contemplating swimming in it naked—with my friends—things were no longer seeming quite so simple.

“Okay,” I said after a minute, when I realized that since I had proposed this thing, I couldn’t back down, and I needed to be the one to try and figure something out. I glanced up and wished, for the first time all summer, that the moon wasn’t quite so full. It was like having a giant spotlight shining down on us. I looked at the stack of four beach towels that Frank had brought out from the house and tried to sound more confident than I felt. “Okay. I think we should all put on the towels, and then we can go with the towels down to the water, and then throw them aside and jump in.” It seemed like the best plan I could think of for limiting out-of-the-water nudity.

“When did she get so bossy?” Collins muttered to Frank, shaking his head.

“I just think,” I started, “this way, we’ll all feel comfortable, and—”

“To heck with that,” Collins said as he kicked off his flip-flops and yanked off his polo shirt, getting it stuck briefly on his head. When he started to drop his shorts, I realized where this was going and turned away, and after a noticeable pause, Dawn did too. “Here I go!” I heard Collins yell, and I looked a second too soon, seeing Collins’s bare butt as he dove into the water. “Agh! That’s cold!” he yelled, then held his nose and ducked under. But he was grinning when he surfaced again, and waved us in. “Come on,” he called.

“I think I’m going to do the towel thing,” Dawn said, grabbing hers, and I took one as well.

“Me too,” I said.

I glanced at Frank’s neighbors’ houses, to make sure they were all staying dark, but it didn’t seem like we’d woken anybody up. Dawn and I walked a little bit up the beach, and I held up my towel for her, blocking her from view while she took everything off and wrapped herself in the towel, and then she did the same for me. I knew this was ridiculous, since we were going skinny-dipping, but I just didn’t think I was ready to run full-out buck naked toward the water Collins-style. By the time we headed back to the water, clutching our towels, Frank had gotten in as well, and was next to Collins in the water. I could just see their bare chests, and tried to tell myself I would have seen them anyway if we’d all been swimming, that it wasn’t a big deal. But I still felt my heart pound as the boys turned away so that Dawn and I could run in.

“Ready?” I asked, looking at her.

“I don’t know,” she said, shifting from foot to foot. She looked toward the water, biting her lip. “I’m not sure . . .”

“Come on.” I smiled at her. “It’ll be fun.” And without waiting, without thinking about it, I dropped my towel and ran toward the water, feeling the cool night air on my skin, feeling utterly free, my hair streaming out behind me, as I splashed into the water and then extended my arms above my head and dove under.

When I surfaced, I saw Dawn plunging into the water as well, doing more of a belly-flop than a dive, emerging with her hair plastered down. “That iscold!” she gasped, grinning at me. “Oh my god.”

But cold or not, the water felt amazing, and I realized just how different it was from swimming with a bathing suit on. It reminded me of sleeping under the stars—with nothing between you and the elements.

Soon, it just felt normal to be swimming together like this—you couldn’t really see anything under the water, anyway. The four of us would swim on our own and then come back together, and even when we were just treading water or standing with our feet touching the sand, talking, it felt that much more exciting, because I knew that under the water, we were all naked.

After we’d been in the water for a while, I swam apart from the group, out of view, so that I could just float on my back and look up at the sky. I was aware of Collins calling to us, saying that the C-dawg was getting out, and then the sound of splashing as he presumably made his way up to the beach. I let myself float there for just a little while, feeling really content and at peace. I was still a little amazed that this was happening. That this, the thing that had seemed so impossible, so terrifying, so utterly beyond me, was happening. I was having fun. And that I was the one who made it happen. “I did it,” I said out loud, sending my voice up to the stars above me, not really caring if the others heard me.

“Guys?” Dawn called, her voice sounding worried. I ducked under the water and surfaced again, smoothing my hair down and swimming over to her. “Where are our towels?”

I looked toward the beach as well, and saw what she meant. The towels that she and I had left there were nowhere to be seen. I could see my clothes, in a pile way up the beach, but the thought of running across that expanse of sand, naked, did not seem that appealing.

“Collins!” I yelled, as Frank swam over toward us.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“Our towels are gone,” I said, still scanning the sand for them.

“What?” Collins asked, emerging on Frank’s deck, dressed in shorts and an oversized sweater. I realized after a moment that I could tell they were Frank’s clothes.

“Are you wearing my clothes?” Frank yelled, and Collins shrugged.

“I was cold,” he called back. “Is there some sort of problem?”

“What did you do with the towels, Collins?”

“Me?” he asked, looking offended. “Nothing. Why would you presume it was me?”

“Who else would it be?” Dawn asked.

“I don’t know,” Collins said with a shrug. “Beach hobos? See you guys inside.” He gave us all a grin and disappeared back in the house.

“I’m going to kill him,” Frank muttered as he looked over at me. I hadn’t realized he’d come quite so close, and especially after we’d danced together, it was disconcerting to realize that Frank Porter was naked, right next to me.  And that I was naked right next to him, with nothing separating us but water.

“I see them!” Dawn said, pointing. The towels were neatly folded, almost at the top of the beach by Frank’s steps. “Should we go one by one, or . . . ?”

“On the count of three, maybe?” Frank suggested.

“Let’s just go!” I yelled, as I splashed out of the water, running toward the beach. I was half yelling and half laughing as I went, feeling the warm night air on my skin. I heard splashing behind me and figured that Frank and Dawn had started running as well.

Someone crashed into me—it was Dawn, running with her eyes closed. “God! Sorry!” she yelped as she changed direction, and started running toward Frank’s neighbor’s house.

“Dawn,” I called. I looked around, just to try and see if I was heading in the right direction, and saw Frank’s bare back in the moonlight, then immediately looked away again. I ran faster, then realized I was reaching the towels at the same time as Frank. “Sorry,” I said as we both turned away, but not before I saw a full view of those abs that I’d only gotten glimpses of before.

Some part of me realized how absurd this was, Frank and I standing next to each other—naked—neither of us sure where to look or who was going to get a towel first. I kept looking over at him, then immediately looking away, trying not to see too much, but getting quick flashes—Frank’s chest, his jawline, his hipbone . . .

I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my head just slightly to see that Frank was looking away. “I’ll get a towel first?” I asked, and he nodded. I grabbed one from the pile and wrapped it around me. I took another for Dawn, who was still running in the wrong direction, weaving up the beach.

“Got it,” I said to Frank, and then turned my head away before I saw anything else. “Dawn!” I yelled to her, holding out the towel in front of my face. “Come toward my voice!”

“Thank you,” Dawn said as she hurried over to me and took the towel. “I couldn’t see where I was going!”

“Who knows, the Farrellys probably wouldn’t have minded,” Frank said as he came over to us, his towel riding low on his hips. I felt myself swallow hard, thinking of the full glimpse I’d just gotten, and also wondering if there was a way I could suggest that he maybe stop wearing a shirt on our runs.

“I’ve got your clothes,” Dawn said, snapping me out of this and making me realize I was still staring at Frank’s bare chest.

“Right,” I said, suddenly feeling very warm, despite the fact the water had been cold and I’d been shivering a few minutes ago. We headed up to the deck, where Collins was now standing, a mug in his hand and a satisfied smile on his face.

“I’m going to kill you,” Frank told him matter-of-factly.

“Oh, come on. Admit it, that was much more fun,” Collins said. “The real skinny-dipping experience. You’re all welcome. Now, who wants hot chocolate?”

By the time I pulled into my driveway, it was almost light out. Frank had found clothes for me, since I really didn’t want to attempt to get back into a formal dress after an ocean swim—a soft pair of gray sweatpants, and the academic decathlon shirt he’d worn the first day we’d gone running together. We ended up just sitting around Frank’s kitchen island, drinking the hot chocolate Collins had made, and then finally just eating all the marshmallows, until it was almost five. Then Dawn and I headed home, Collins crashed on Frank’s couch, and Frank waved good night to us from his doorway.

I killed the engine and caught my reflection in the rearview mirror. My hair was in tangles, and the wedding makeup I’d worn was half washed off, half smeared under my eyes. But my cheeks were flushed and even though I looked like a mess, I looked happy. I looked like someone who’d had a night, and had a story to tell about it. Which was, I realized as I collected my dress and heels in my arms and made my way, yawning, to the front door in the cool early light, exactly what had happened.

13

THE BACKLESS DRESS. AND SOMEWHERE TO WEAR IT

“Hello?” I answered my phone without opening my eyes. It was two days after we’d gone skinny-dipping, and far too early to be awake if I wasn’t going to be out running.  And since Frank had gone camping with Collins, I wasn’t running—which meant I should still be sleeping.

“Morning,” Frank said, far too cheerful in the morning as usual, and I rolled onto my side, eyes still closed, holding my phone up to my ear.

“Hey,” I said, smiling. “How’s the camping trip?”

“Uh,” Frank said. “Have you looked outside yet?” I suddenly became aware of a steady, rhythmic sound hitting the window and roof. I opened my eyes and pushed my bedroom curtains aside. The sky was gray and there was rain beating down against my window.

“Oh,” I said, leaning back against my pillows. “So I take it the camping trip is off?” I asked.

“Off,” Frank confirmed. “And Collins is really upset about it, for some reason.”

“Well,” I said, glancing out to the rain again. Even if they put it off for a day, I had a feeling the ground might be too wet to camp successfully. “Maybe you guys can reschedule?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he said, and even though I couldn’t see him, I was pretty sure he was smiling. “Are you busy tonight?”

“No,” I said slowly, not sure what I would be letting myself in for by admitting this. “Why?”

“I’m going to text you an address,” he said. “And see if Dawn’s free too.”

“Okay,” I said, and waited for some more information, but apparently none was going to be forthcoming. “What is this?” I finally asked.

“You’ll see,” he said, and he was definitely smiling now, I was sure of it. “Be there at nine. And you might want to bring a sleeping bag.”

“You’re sleeping over at Dawn’s again?” my mother asked, blinking at me. She and my father both had the bleary-eyed look of people who had spent too much time in front of their computer screens.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to tell myself that this was only a slight tweaking of the facts. I still didn’t even know what Frank had invited me to, but like the night of the wedding and skinny-dipping, I knew that telling my mother I had a sleepover would at least buy me a late night out, no questions asked. Or so I had thought. “Is that okay?”

“Fine with me,” my dad said, pushing his glasses up on top of his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just make sure you have her over here too, to thank her. Okay?”

I nodded, thrilled that this had been so easy. “Sure,” I said. “Great.”

I started to go when I realized my mother was still looking at me, her head tilted slightly to the side. “When’s Sloane back, Em?”

“Oh,” I said, surprised by the question. “I—I’m not exactly sure.”

“Sloane,” my dad said, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. “Is she doing okay?”

I looked at him, completely confused by this. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“She just always seemed a little . . . lost to me,” he said. I was about to take a breath, try and refute this, since it was the opposite of everything I’d ever thought about her, but my dad was putting his glasses back on and squinting at the computer. “Do we really have to have the death scene with the pigeon?” he asked with a sigh.

“You know we do,” my mother said, shaking her head and leaning closer to her own monitor. “I’m as happy about it as you are.”

Normally, I stayed out of my parents’ writing process. They either told me far more than I wanted to know, or got defensive if I asked the simplest questions. But I was not about to let this one slide. “Pigeon?”

My dad was already typing with one hand, and used the other one to point at my mom. “As Tesla was dying,” she started.

“In a hotel room,” my dad interrupted. “Can you think of anything sadder?”

My mom went on. “As he was dying, he kept telling people that he was in love with a pigeon outside his window.”

I just stared at them. “A pigeon.”

She nodded. “He said it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. That it could see into his soul. That it was special.” She started to type again as well, and I knew that I could go now, having secured my permission to go, and that my parents were a few seconds away from not even being able to tell if I was still in the room. But I didn’t think I could leave it like that. “And?” I asked. “Was it? Special, I mean?”

My mother glanced over at me and gave me a sad smile. “No,” she said. “It was just a pigeon.” They both started typing again, their keyboards making a kind of music together. I listened for just a moment before I backed out of the dining room and closed the door quietly behind me.

“Any idea what this is about?” Dawn asked me as we both got out of our cars and walked toward the front door. I had a sleeping bag rolled under my arm, and I saw that Dawn did as well—and that she’d also been smart enough to bring along a pillow, which I now realized I’d forgotten. It had stopped raining an hour or so before, but everything was still chilly and damp, and there was the feeling in the air like the rain could start up again at any moment.

“None,” I said. Frank had texted me an address that hadn’t meant anything to me, but as soon as I’d pulled into the driveway, I’d recognized it. It was the spec house, the one that was sitting empty, the one we’d passed while running.

Frank pulled open the door before we’d even had the chance to knock, and stood on the threshold, smiling at us. “Hey,” he said, holding the door open. “Welcome to indoor camping.”

“Indoor what?” Dawn asked as we stepped inside. I immediately took off my flip-flops and put them next to Frank and Collins’s shoes, and Dawn followed my lead. The walls of the foyer were bright white and the wooden floors were pristine, and the last thing I wanted to do was to track mud all over the place.

“Indoor camping,” Frank repeated. He gave me a look. “Someone once told me that in a well-ordered universe it’s the only way to camp.” He smiled and then led us into the main room, and I saw what he meant. The room—the whole house—was totally empty, no furniture anywhere, not a single decoration or knickknack cluttering up the place. Except, that is, for two round camping tents that had been erected in the middle of the room. There was an entire camp set up in the empty room, including folding chairs and a Coleman lantern. “It seemed like the next best thing.”

“And plus, no bugs,” Dawn said. She rolled out her sleeping bag next to one of the tents. “This is awesome.”

“Is it okay we’re here?” I asked Frank in a low voice.

He shrugged. “It’s not like anyone’s bought it,” he said, a bitter note in his voice that I hated to hear. “So as long as we don’t wreck the place, I think it’ll be fine.”

Since there was no electricity—or any lights or appliances that ran on electricity—it was actually more like real camping than I’d been anticipating. When it got dark outside, it got dark inside the house as well, the only light coming from the flickering lantern we’d set up in the center of the “camp.”

Collins, for some reason, had been withdrawn all night, not really participating or hanging out with us, and he’d retired to his tent pretty early and zipped the flap closed. I could see that Dawn looked hurt by this, but kept up a brave face anyway, trying her best to join in when Frank decided we should tell ghost stories, despite the fact that all she could seem to contribute was a recap of the last slasher film she’d seen. She decided to call it a night pretty soon after that, moving her sleeping bag so that it was next to Collins’s tent, and zipping it up around her shoulders.

And then it was just me and Frank and a flickering lantern throwing huge shadows against the unadorned white walls. He headed into his round orange tent, and I spread out my sleeping bag on the floor, now really regretting not bringing a pillow along with me. I had balled my sweatshirt up under my head, and was trying to find a place where my face wasn’t hitting the zipper, when Frank stuck his head out of his tent.

“Night, Emily,” he called, reaching over to turn off the lantern.

“Night,” I called back, giving him a smile and trying not to wince as some of my hair got caught in the zipper.

“What are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Nothing,” I said, a little defensively. “Just . . . you know, sleeping.”

“Where’s your pillow?” he asked. There was a loud sigh and the sound of someone turning over in Collins’s tent, and Frank glanced over at it, then walked closer to me, kneeling down in front of my sleeping bag. “Where’s your pillow?” he asked, more softly.

The light from the lantern was playing over his features, lighting them up and then throwing them into darkness again. I registered that he was now dressed for bed, wearing a light gray T-shirt that looked soft and a pair of long shorts. Since I hadn’t known I’d be staying over—which I really should have, given the fact he’d told me to bring a sleeping bag—I was still in the T-shirt and leggings I’d come in, which happily could double as sleep clothes. But I’d wriggled my way out of my bra under the sleeping bag, and so made sure to keep holding the sleeping bag up high as Frank knelt next to me.

“I didn’t bring one,” I said, with a shrug. “But I’m fine. I have a sweatshirt. And it’s just as good.”

“It’s not,” Frank said, a note of finality in his voice, and I suddenly wondered if he wanted me to go home. “It’s ridiculous to sleep like that all night.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling more disappointed by this thought than I should have been. But it was like my heart just plunged into the bottom of my sleeping bag. “Well. I can go, then, I guess.”

Frank smiled and shook his head. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “Come share mine. It’s big enough for two.”

“But—” I started, but Frank had already taken the lantern with him and headed for his tent. “Frank!” I shout-whispered, but a second later, the light from the lantern went out. Collins sighed loudly from his tent again, and I realized I had limited options. I could stay out here, using my very uncomfortable sweatshirt as a pillow, and probably wake up with a zipper scar across my face that would make me look like a pirate; or I could share Frank’s tent with him. Would it seem weird if I didn’t?

And even though Sleep next to Frank Porterhadn’t been on Sloane’s list, the thought of it still felt incredibly scary. But there was no other real option, unless I wanted to draw attention to the fact that I thought it might mean something when he obviously didn’t. And the fact was, I wanted to. I didn’t know what that meant, and didn’t really want to think about what it meant just now. I spent a futile few minutes trying to get my bra back on in the dark, then gave up and just stuffed it into the bottom of my sleeping bag, then crawled out of it and walked over to Frank’s tent, pulling my sleeping bag behind me.

The flap was half down and I unzipped it all the way. My eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that I could see Frank sit up and smile at me. “Hey,” he said, his voice quiet but suddenly seeming loud in this small, enclosed space.

“Hi,” I murmured as I pulled my sleeping bag inside.  Though I couldn’t see much, the interior of the tent seemed smaller than it had from the outside. But it was a two-person tent, and Frank’s sleeping bag was on one side that seemed demarcated by the seam that ran over the top. I turned away from him as I got into the sleeping bag, then pulled it up in front of me.

“See?” Frank asked, moving his pillow so that it was right in the center of the seam, and between our two sleeping bags. “More than enough room. Much better than a sweatshirt.”

I lay down slowly, mostly sticking to my edge of the pillow—though it did actually seem to be an extra wide one, and it wasn’t like Frank and I were forced to lie right next to each other.

I was aware of how quietit was in the tent—just the sound of Frank’s breathing and the occasional crinkle of one of our sleeping bags and, from the roof far above, the sound of the rain that must have started up again. I felt my eyes start to get heavy, and could hear that Frank’s breathing was growing slow and even. And though I couldn’t see details—he was just a nearby shape in the dark—I knew I could have reached out and touched his face without extending my arm. “Good night,” I whispered into the darkness.

“Night, Em,” Frank said, his voice slow and peaceful, like he could drop off at any moment and not be sure if this conversation had just been part of his dream.

I curled up on my side, facing him, and felt myself relax into the pillow we were sharing. And before I dropped off to sleep myself, I registered that our breath was now rising and falling together.

Before I was even fully awake, I could sense that something was different. I opened my eyes and realized after a second that I wasn’t in my bed at home. I realized another second later that I was lying in a tent with Frank, and that his arm was around my shoulders.

I felt myself freeze as I tried to assess the sleeping arrangement we had moved into sometime during the night. I was lying on my side, and so was Frank, both of us facing the same way. We were still in our respective sleeping bags, but we had moved nearer during the night, and we were now lying close together, fitted next to each other like two spoons. Our heads were close on the pillow, and Frank’s arm was over my shoulders and resting by my elbow.

I didn’t move for what felt like at least a minute or two, reminding myself to keep breathing in and out. When I’d gotten the hang of respiring again, I turned, a millimeter at a time, pausing every time it seemed like there was a hitch in Frank’s breath, until I was lying on my other side, and we were facing each other. The light was cool—it must have been early still—but I could see Frank perfectly. He had a crease running down the side of his face and his normally neat hair was sticking up.

And as I lay there next to him, his arm still around me, as we shared a pillow, I realized that I liked him.

Of course, I liked him as a friend. But this was different. This was more than that. This was wanting to reach over and touch his cheek, lightly, so as not to wake him. This was what had been bouncing around somewhere in my mind ever since the night of his birthday when I’d looked at him just a little too long in the moonlight. It was what I’d felt when we’d danced at the wedding. It was why I’d felt so awkward, going to pick up Lissa. It was why I wanted to stay exactly where I was, but why I also knew I needed to go.

I closed my eyes again for just a minute, even though I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, or stop these revelations from crashing down on me. It was like hitting the snooze button on your alarm—your sleep in that window is never very good, since you know it’s borrowed time, and that it will be over all too soon.

I let myself look at him a moment longer, knowing I’d never be this close to him again, then feeling sick when I wondered if he and Lissa had ever shared this tent, too. And, really, what was I doing there? I needed to leave.

I eased myself out from under Frank’s arm and then out of my sleeping bag. I didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to have an awkward conversation. I just left my sleeping bag where it was rather than deal with how disruptive it would be to try and get it out of the tent. I unzipped the flap as slowly as possible, checking in with Frank to make sure this wasn’t waking him, then crawled out of it and zipped it back up. I tiptoed across the floor, shook out my sweatshirt, and then pulled it on. It was chilly outside the tent, in an unheated house with no rugs, and I rubbed my hands together and turned back to the tent as I looked around for my purse.

I stopped short when I realized Collins was awake, sitting at the edge of his tent flap, looking out across the room. For just a moment, it was like I could picture him in the woods somewhere, in that same position, looking out to a sunrise and not just a blank wall. He glanced over at me, and I felt even colder as I saw his expression. I knew then that he’d seen me come out of Frank’s tent. Probably he assumed the worst, even though nothing had happened.

I took a breath, to try and whisper-explain myself, but Collins just looked away from me, moved back into his tent, and zipped himself in without a word.

Hey, you okay?

We’re not running AGAIN? Finally ready to admit my superiority?

Breakfast? Meet you at the diner?

Em, what’s going on?

Are you still coming tonight?

In the three days that had passed since the indoor camping, I’d been avoiding Frank. I was still trying to get my head around the fact that I liked him as more than a friend.  And I had a feeling that if we were on a long run together, some or all of this would come pouring out, probably in an incredibly embarrassing way. So for the moment, I was being a coward, texting him vague replies about being sick and having twisted my ankle and being busy with Paradise. The last text I’d gotten from him, though, I couldn’t ignore. I’d committed to the gala, I’d spent a lot of money on a dress, I needed to cross it off the list, and I was going to go. He needed me for support and as his friend; I knew I had to be there for him.

Still coming. Text me the address?

But getting ready for it didn’t feel like the fun, exciting time that I’d been imagining. I couldn’t help but think back to the last time Sloane and I had gotten ready for an event. We’d always tried to get ready together, even if only one of us was going out. It was just more fun to have someone there, helping with makeup, strategizing about the night, weighing in with wardrobe decisions. The last time we’d done this had been for junior prom, in her room, since her parents were out of town. She had worn an amazing vintage dress from Twice, a long beaded caftan, and she had done her makeup sixties-style, all cat eye and false lashes, but had kept her hair modern and flowing down her back.

“Finishing touch,” she’d said when we were coiffed and made up and ready to go. She’d lifted the throw rug in her bedroom and pressed down on the loose floorboard. I’d seen her do this before; it was where she kept her precious things, the things she didn’t want to get lost or go missing, two things that seemed to happen with regularity around her house. She reached down into the space and pulled up a tiny bottle of perfume and dabbed it on her wrists and throat. “Milly would use up the whole bottle otherwise,” she said, offering it to me as I shook my head. “And this stuff’s expensive. It was a gift from my aunt.” She put it back under the floorboard, and smoothed down the rug. Then she smiled at me and said what she always did before we went out. “Let’s go have the best night ever.”

I was thinking about this as I spritzed on some perfume myself. I capped the bottle and looked at my reflection in the mirror. The backless dress was just as striking as it had been all those times I’d tried it on at the store, but I wasn’t sure I liked it now. I wanted Frank to notice me in it, but at the same time, that felt like the last thing I should want.

“Okay,” I said, as I looked in the mirror, pulling my shoulders back and making myself say it since Sloane wasn’t here to. “Go have the best night ever.”