“I plan to. My mom says the same thing. She had hers until she had kids, so I’m good for, oh, the rest of my life.”
“Lissy,” Cameron says, seeing past my joke. “You are not going to be alone forever.”
“I know,” I say, and honestly believe it. I’ll find someone eventually. I’m only twenty-five, after all. I have five more years until my biological clock turns into a ticking time bomb and I sob uncontrollably at my thirtieth birthday as I sit alone in my living room over not finding a husband. I’m not there yet, thank God. I keep busy. I’m happy. It took fucking years, but I like myself, my life.
Call me a nerd, geek, loser … whatever, I didn’t care—though I do prefer intellectual badass over all those—I’ve accepted myself and don’t feel ashamed and the need to hide my love over, well, anything.
“Are we still shopping after work?” Cameron asks.
“Yeah, I don’t have a dress for the shower this weekend.”
“Great, because Adam’s got a late session today and canceled dinner plans. Shopping then drinks?”
“Sounds good to me.”
*
“Damn, girl,” Cameron says when I step out of the dressing room. “Where the hell have you been hiding those?” His eyes widen as he takes in the large amount of cleavage the dress shows off.
“Under work-appropriate attire,” I say, feeling a bit self-conscious in the dress. It’s a halter top, white with blue polka dots and belted around the waist. It’s cute, I can’t deny that, but I’m unsure of how it looks on me. I’m of average build, but I’m far from in shape. “Does it look okay?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at my reflection.
“Yes. Way okay. And it’s on sale. You’re getting it and wearing it.”
I nod. At least this was painless. “Fine.” I step closer to the three-way mirror, making a mental note to spend some time outside and get a tan before the wedding. “You don’t think it’s too short?”
Cameron shakes his head. “No, it’s perfect for a bridal shower. Why are you worried? I’ve seen some of the costumes you’ve worn to Comic Con.”
I shrug. “I’m playing a character, it’s different.” It’s hard to explain to some people. Taking on a role lets you channel whoever you’re dressed as. I’ll be going to this shower as me, as the older sister of Jake Hills not as Ahri, the nine-tailed fox.
“Do you have Spanx at home?” he asks.
I raise an eyebrow. I did, but they are horribly uncomfortable so I tossed them in the trash the same day I threw away the expensive anti-wrinkle cream I’d recently bought. My body jiggles in certain places. I am going to age and get wrinkle eventually. Why agonize over it?
“Not wearing them.” I look at myself again, eyes instantly going to my hips. Maybe I should get more. Double up on the Spanx, actually. It’ll take a few inches off my middle.
Fuck. No. I’m not doing that. I am who I am, and I don’t look that bad considering I eat like crap and don’t work out. I never wear Spanx or other body-slimming witchery at Comic Con, and I feel like a fucking rockstar when I’m dressed up as one of my favorite characters.
I want to feel like that when I’m just me.
Why is it so hard?
“Get changed,” Cameron says. “And then we’ll talk shoes.”
We leave the mall a half hour later. Cameron convinced me not to wear my Tardis shoes with the dress despite the fact the color was perfect. I got a pair of lower white heels instead, something practical yet stylish that I could easily move around in while decorating the venue for the shower. We grab dinner and drinks and it’s late by the time I get home.
Like usually, I stay up too late watching TV, sleep in, and have to rush around like a mad woman to get all my shit done before packing an overnight back and driving the hour and a half to my mom and dad’s. I sing along with Rachel Platten on the way, and time passes quickly. A little guilt rises inside of me when I stop by the bakery Erin runs with her sisters before stopping home to see my mom, but I know if I go home first I’ll never get out. Mom’s a talker.
There’s a parking spot right in front of the pink storefront, which stands out next to the red brick fronts that surround it. Located on the main street and right in the middle of this town, Sweet Treats sticks out and is always busy. I grab my purse and get out, locking the Malibu as I hurry out of the misting rain and into the store. A little bell dings above me and I snicker as I remember the moaning lady at the sex shop.
I’m so mature sometimes.