Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Biting my bottom lip, my fingers move across the keyboard on my screen.
Me: Thinking about how I don’t have a car because of you.
Three dots pop up as he replies, and I chew on the end of my nail, nervous he took my horrible attempt at flirting as rude.
Heston: I’m the kind of man who does a lot of things he’s not supposed to, but I’ve never regretted one thing I’ve done. Yet.
I crack a smile at his massive ego.
Me: The day isn’t over yet.
I laugh, feeling both sexy and confident after my risqué behavior. I’m not typically the kind of girl that flirts, so I don’t know why I even said the things I did, but it feels good. It’s this place; it makes me feel comfortable and free. I don’t feel hidden away in an apartment where people walking by could care less about who lives there. I matter here and I can feel it.
Heston: I’m looking froward to your kind of trouble.
Oh man, he knows what he’s doing. He can more than talk the talk and walk the walk.
We chat a little more and I find out his car is in the shop, so he’s taking an Uber to where we’re eating. I decide to take one too incase the date goes sour and I want to leave.
Now…to find something to wear.
Well, the good news is I’ve hung all my clothes up. The bad news…I can’t find anything I want to wear for my lunch date. Purple light casts a calming shade across the room as I stare at my closet. Baggy shirts and pants are all I wear. I’ve been hiding my body, seeking comfort in one over-washed hoodie at a time. It’s clear I haven’t recovered from my divorce with Cam. He made me feel ugly and ashamed of my curves.
Leaning back on my heel, I glance at the rack of clothes once more, trying to remember what I would’ve worn before I met Cam. How I would have worn my hair. Truthfully, it’s difficult to remember who I was before him.
I pull my phone out again, checking to see where the closest Target is. They have same-day delivery, so if I find something more…alluring to wear, it will be here before I need to go.
On the third page of dresses, my eyes snag on a model in a bell-sleeved, lace-hemline Mya dress. It’s long-sleeved and brown with a white design. The boat neckline is gorgeous, exposing my shoulders. It’s mid-thigh and looks cute with the white wedges she’s wearing.
Wait—what am I talking about? I haven’t worn heels in so long, I’d probably fall into a bush just trying to get to the sidewalk.
I bite my lip, glancing at the shoes in the bottom of my closet. I wonder if my high-top Converses will look okay with it. Dropping to my knees, I reach for the box in the back. I’ve never worn them. My mom got them for me for my birthday last year, and I was too nervous I’d get something on them. I felt as if their lively outlook didn’t match the way I felt inside. I definitely didn’t want to be seen, and my dark colors not only matched my soul but hid me from wondering eyes. I open the lid. Brand-new butterscotch shoes stare up at me. Running my finger over the fabric, my eyes start to water, thinking about my mom. She tried so hard to brighten my life, and all I did was hide within the four walls of our apartment. Shaking myself out of my grief, I take the box with me and head over to the bed.
I’m wearing them.
I order the mini dress, along with a push-up bra and matching cheeky panties. I don’t plan on anyone seeing them, but they looked nice and wearing something besides my sports bra and mismatching bikini-style panties might feel nice. Maybe. Is it too much?
Palm to my face, I let out a squeal. I’m going to combust from the uncertainty. Butterflies swarm inside my stomach. I haven’t been on a date in years, and the first impression is the most important. I don’t want to come off as a lonely, divorced, single mother, but I also don’t want to look like a hooker. The outfit I ordered doesn’t seem to say either. It’s flattering and looks like something a woman who’s sure of herself would wear—which is what I want.
Setting my phone down, I sigh. Dating feels a lot harder than it did when I was a teenager. Why is that? I’m older and wiser now, you’d think it would be easier. I feel like I’m cooking blindfolded.
5
After locating the perfect place for my plant—a snake plant, I learned—I find myself staring back at my reflection, closely eyeing the brown dress and the way it hugs my waist. I bite back my smile. I cannot believe I’m going to wear this, but, man, it’s so cute paired with my Converse. Grabbing my Sakura Blossom perfume, I mist my body with sweet almonds and tree blossoms.