“No offense, but I don’t want it.” I sniff delicately, hoping she’ll forgive me but God, I’m still just so angry at Matthew-the-jerkwad DeLuca. “There’s no point in wearing it, so I’m giving it back to you. Hopefully you can still return it to the store.”
“What? Why is there no point in wearing it? What happened?” Ivy gapes at me.
I flick my head in the direction of Matt’s closed office door. He’s kept it closed all day, hardly talking to me beyond the occasional request, said in a painfully polite voice. I’m just as bad, replying with a crisp “yes, sir” every time he asks me to do something for him, earning an irritated look in return.
“What did he do?” Ivy’s voice drops to a whisper.
Shaking my head, I roll my eyes and it sort of hurts. Probably has something to do with my hair scraped into a bun so tight I swear it’s pulling on my entire face. Who needs a facelift when you give yourself a hairdo like this? “I can’t talk about it here. Not now.”
“I refuse to accept this.” Ivy deposits the bag on top of my desk, her expression practically daring me to deny her. “You’re wearing it tomorrow night whether you like it or not.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it, you know.” I take the bag and throw it back under the desk, knowing I just totally wrinkled the dress. I’m going to have to iron the crap out of that thing tonight if I’m really going to wear it tomorrow. “The whole reason for you buying it was to impress a certain someone who, trust me, won’t be impressed whatsoever.”
“You’re talking in circles and I can’t stand it.” Ivy starts for the door, waving her hand. “Come with me.”
I follow her outside, the sun bright and warm on my chilled skin as she leads me behind the building. She turns to face me, and I cross my arms, feeling defensive. The last thing I want to do is argue with my new friend, but I also really don’t want to admit to her what happened between Matt and me last night.
It’s embarrassing.
“Give me all the details. Tell me what that stupid Matt did to you to make you revert to your old ways.” A shudder passes over Ivy. “I hate the beige, I hope you know.”
I do too, but I don’t admit it. Better to act like this is more my style and hide behind it than reveal that I actually can look . . . pretty without the beige. I wear it like armor, fighting against all my vulnerabilities. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It’ll only be between me and you. Oh, and Marina. She’ll want to know what’s going on,” Ivy says.
“You can’t tell Archer. And Marina can’t tell Gage. This is our little secret,” I say, pointing my finger at her.
“I’ll keep my lips shut. Scout’s honor.” She holds up three fingers, then starts giggling, which makes me even more nervous.
“I can’t take you seriously if you’re laughing,” I tell her, exasperated as hell. If Matt finds out I’m outside talking to Ivy, he might get mad. He’s a ball of nerves today what with everything finally happening tomorrow. Tense and stressed and the bad, weird vibes going on between us aren’t helping matters any.
“I’m not laughing about this. I told Matt the same thing, scout’s honor, when he was telling me something last week.” She frowns, tilts her head. “I can’t believe it’s only been a week since Matt and I had that conversation. A lot has happened since then.”
“What conversation? What did he tell you?” I’m totally testing her. If she tells me what he said there is no way I’m confessing to her what happened last night.
“Ah, ah, ah. I’m not falling for that.” She smiles. Dang, she’s good. “So spill.”
I explain everything. How Matt seemed interested since I ditched the beige. That I stayed last night and brought him dinner, which we ate together. How I was about to leave when we ran into each other and the next thing I knew, we were kissing.
And it was amazing.
“Then it was over. He said we shouldn’t be doing this, gave me forty bucks and sent me on my way,” I finished miserably.
“Wait a minute, he gave you forty bucks? What for?” Ivy practically screeches.
“Shhh.” I shake my head, wanting to laugh but not really finding the situation that funny. Maybe I will someday but not at the moment. “It was for dinner since I paid for it.”
“Oh, thank God,” she mumbles and this time I do laugh. I can’t help it. “I thought he was trying to pay for your services or whatever.” The entire story is just absurd.
“I thought the same thing!”
Then we’re both laughing, leaning against the building as if we need it to hold us upright.
“So I’m guessing now he’s ignoring you?” Ivy asks once she’s composed herself.
I nod, my laughter dying. “I didn’t help matters when I left last night. I didn’t say a word to him, just turned and fled like my feet were on fire.”
“And then you show up this morning in your beige ensemble and it’s back to normal.” Ivy sighs. “What a mess.”
“I don’t know what else to do. His rejection, it . . . hurt,” I confess, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from saying anything else. She’s my friend but we’re not that close. I don’t want her to think I’m a total idiot by divulging my past. I’ve had a lot of crazy stuff happen to me. Beyond the perverts and the crazy bosses and the Hollywood creeps looking for blowjobs, I had boyfriends who weren’t that great either. Men look at a pretty face and decent body and think I’m easy.