“You really do look incredible,” Janet says with a smile, running a hand through her short blonde hair as she steps back. “Are you ready to see yourself?”
I’d tell her no. I’m not ready. Not even close. I’d tell her to please get me out of this ridiculous outfit – that clings to me too tightly, highlighting all my worst areas – and that to please tell Jaxon I can’t do this.
I’d tell her all of that, maybe, if my throat wasn’t already threatening to close up with nervousness.
Instead, I just about manage a nod.
“Excellent,” Janet beams, with the flair of a chef about to present her signature dish.
She slides over to the corner of the room, grabs the full length mirror, carries it over, and places it in front of me.
I stare at myself as tears threaten to fill my eyes, as my chest tightens and my lips twitch into a smile.
“You’ve…” I can hardly dare to speak the words. Unless they laugh at me. Unless they tell me I’m wrong. “You’ve made me beautiful.”
Janet frowns over the top of the mirror and my aunt shakes her head. As if they’re both thinking the same thing.
“You are beautiful,” Janet says.
I’m not sure I agree with her, not usually.
But the way she styled my hair – artfully messy, with a small jeweled pin keeping one side slightly pulled back – and the dress she’s chosen, a dark piece cut high to not show too much cleavage, with the hem fluttering down to my knees… It’s like something a princess would wear, and for a second I imagine if this is what it would’ve felt like to go to prom.
I never went to mine. I wanted to be done with high school as soon as I could.
But maybe this was how the cool girls felt, in their magnificent dresses. Maybe this is finally my taste of some of that glamor.
“So you like it?” Janet asks.
I smile at her, not wanting to insult her work. “Yes, very much. Thank you.”
Turning away from my reflection, I warn myself not to get carried away. Just because she’s put me in a flattering dress, styled my hair, applied some light makeup, it doesn’t change me.
It doesn’t change the fact that Jaxon Walker would never want me.
It doesn’t change anything.
My aunt takes out her phone and steps forward, raising it for a photo. My heart drops when I see that the back of it is cracked from where she dropped it a few months ago. We haven’t had the money to replace it yet.
But I can’t keep letting myself think so negatively. My aunt is happy. Janet is happy with her work. And I should be happy.
This is a big opportunity for my career.
Right, okay, no more pouting. No more moping. I can’t promise myself I won’t be nervous, but I can at least try to make the most of this evening.
“Smile,” Claire says.
I offer her my best smile, telling myself it’s real, it’s not going to crumble the moment I lay eyes on Jaxon.
After Janet has collected her things and left, Claire and I wait in the living room. My body is too filled with buzzing energy to sit down, so I pace in front of the couch, warning myself to slow down unless I drench my lovely dress with sweat before the evenings even start.
“Having fun over there?” My aunt calls over the kitchen partition, a wide grin on her face. “You don’t need to worry, Jessie. Honestly. You look lovely. You’re going to knock it out of the park tonight.”
Yeah, if I don’t vomit all over my dress first.
But see, that’s the nervous Jessie trying to talk, the person I promised myself I wouldn’t be tonight.
So instead I force another smile to my lips, nodding, trying to let her words calm me with their truth.
I almost let out a scream when the buzzer goes off, cutting sharply through the apartment.
“I think that might be him,” I say, laughing at my outburst even if I don’t find it particularly funny. “Well… probably his driver. I don’t think he’s going to drive all the way across town just to pick me up.”
“Why don’t you go and find out?” Claire says, with a slight teasing note in her voice. “Unless you’re playing hard to get?”
I roll my eyes as I walk across the apartment. It’s no surprise my aunt has guessed I’ve got a mega crush on the millionaire CEO, but surely she knows how ridiculous the notion is, or at least should be.
“Yes, I’m playing very hard to get,” I shoot back.
What I don’t add is, Because he doesn’t want me. There isn’t much harder to get than that.
Pressing my finger on the intercom button, I say, “Yes, hello?”
I expect a voice I don’t recognize, a driver, one of his employees maybe.