Saturday brings my dress-shopping trip with Mom, Julia, and Charlotte. We take the train in order to avoid having to drive into the city. I don’t have to talk much. Mom and Julia fire so many questions at Charlotte that there’s no need for me to join the conversation. I enjoy Charlotte’s answers, though.
Charlotte’s lived an interesting life, having been raised by her father and his teammates because her mom split when she was little. She’s funny, too. There’s no shortage of laughter on the train ride, which is good because Julia has been mad at me all week, but she seems to have forgotten that now.
We head to the East Village first, on Charlotte’s recommendation. She’s into unique things, and there are several boutiques she loves that have current fashion mixed with a bit of vintage flair. After spending three minutes in the first store, I know I’m going to love her style.
Charlotte and Julia head to a rack of short dresses, but I’m more of a floor-length girl—always wanted to be a princess in a castle and all—so I wander to the other side of the store to check out some of the gowns. Mom comes with me. She flips through a few dresses, but her eyes are across the room, watching Charlotte and Julia give each other fashion advice.
“Charlotte’s really nice.” Mom breaks from her stare to smile at me. “I’m glad you befriended her. It sounds like she really needs some good girl friends.”
I nod but can’t think of anything else to say to this.
“I’m glad you’re going to the dance, too.”
I spy a beautiful pale pink gown with capped sleeves covered in sheer pink lace and instantly fall in love. “Maybe it will be fun,” I admit as I pull the dress from the rack and hold it up to myself.
Mom gasps. “Oh, honey, it’s beautiful!”
At her declaration, a saleswoman approaches us, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s lovely. And with your complexion and coloring, it will be absolutely stunning. Would you like to try it on?”
“Yeah, try it on, Bay,” Spencer says suddenly.
I startle, having not seen him yet this morning, but I quickly smile. I’m glad he’s here. The saleswoman assumes my smile is for the dress and opens a dressing room for me. I half expect Spencer to follow me into the stall, but he plays the role of a gentleman and stays with my mother.
My eyes burn as I zip myself into the gown and face the mirror. I haven’t put on a formal dress since I bought my homecoming dress last year. I’d loved my dress so much but had refused to let Spencer see it before the dance. I wouldn’t even tell him what color it was. I wanted to surprise him. He’d hounded me for weeks to give him a hint, but I never gave in, and then he died having never seen it. The dress is still hanging in my closet at home. I’ll never wear it, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it, either.
I’m grateful this dress looks nothing like that dress. If I’m really going to do this, I need a fresh start. I stare at myself in the mirror for a moment. I’ve lost a little weight, and there are dark circles around my eyes, but the dress is so perfect that my cheeks flush a little, bringing some much-needed color to my face. I twist my hair up behind my head, imagining different ways I could do it, and suddenly I can picture myself at the dance.
Taking a deep breath, I step out of the stall and let my mother and Spencer see. Mom looks at me and stifles a gasp with her hand. Spencer covers his mouth, too, but it’s to hide a laugh.
“It’s beautiful,” the saleswoman starts to gush, until she notices the frown on my face.
Spencer tries to look repentant and fails. “Sorry. You’re beautiful, of course, but you look like a Disney princess in that dress.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Mom asks. She’s got that hesitant afraid-she’s-about-to-set-me-off tone in her voice. “It’s a stunning dress, Bailey. Honest.”
I turn to face a full-length mirror, and, though I love the dress, I can see Spencer’s point. “Maybe it’s a little too Sleeping Beauty.”
“I agree. It’s not the one,” Charlotte says. She and Julia are both standing behind me, examining my dress.
Julia nods, too. “I think you need something a little more modern.”
“Something classic,” Mom says.
“Something red,” Spencer adds with a wicked smile. “And short. Something dangerous.”
His answer surprises me so much, I respond without thinking. “Something red and dangerous?”
“What?” Mom asks, shocked.
My face heats up, and it takes all my self-control not to yell at Spencer when he starts laughing. As it is, I glare at him even though I’m sure it makes me look crazy.
“Sorry, Bay.”
He looks like he means it, but he’s still unable to wipe the grin from his face. I can’t stay mad at him.
“Nothing,” I mumble to all the non-dead people present. “I didn’t mean that. I was just…” My voice trails off because I have no excuse.
“Just on to something brilliant,” Charlotte says. “I know the perfect store to take you to. We’ll go there next.”
Mom and Julia are still gaping at me in stunned silence, but Charlotte’s excitement breaks a little of the awkward tension. As she steps into a changing stall, she holds up a sexy purple number and wriggles her eyebrows. “We’ll make all the girls in school hate us together.”
. . . . .
Three stores later, we’re still looking for the dress for me. Charlotte found a slinky blue dress with a slit that she said her father would probably kill her for, but it looked so good clinging to all her curves that she couldn’t resist. She is going to look fabulous.
Julia found a dress earlier, too, and wanted to go look for shoes, so we split up. Mom went with her, and we were all going to meet in another half an hour for lunch. If I don’t find anything by then, I’ll take that as a sign that I shouldn’t go to the dance, and I’ll give up my search.
“I found it!” Spencer hollers from across the store. He’s ridiculous. I never knew him to be such a shopper, but today he is a man on a mission.
I glance at the wall he’s pointing to, and my eyes double in size. “Are you serious?”
“What?” Charlotte asked.
I cringe. I really need to stop talking to Spencer in front of people, or I’m going to be locked up in a loony bin. And does he have to find it so funny every time it happens?
Charlotte follows my gaze and gasps. “Yes! It’s perfect!”
“But it’s so…short.”
Charlotte grins. “Gown-length dresses are criminal for someone with your legs.”
“And tight,” I continue. “I can’t wear something like that.”
“Oh, yes, you can.” Charlotte snatches a dress in my size and pushes me to the fitting rooms. “Girl, we have been at this for hours and found nothing because this dress was waiting for you to come and find it. Trust me. This is the one.”
I’m not going to win, so I take the dress and step into the changing room. I eye the strapless satin dress dubiously for a minute and then notice the tag. No wonder it looks a little short. “Hey, Charlotte, I’m a size 6, and you handed me a 4.”
“I know,” she calls back. “Put it on right now.”
I don’t have to see her face to know she’s smiling.
Afraid to look, I turn my back to the mirror as I slip into the dress. I have to suck in a little as I zip it up. It’s snug, but not too small, and that actually makes me feel a little better about it because it isn’t going to slip while I wear it.
“Hurry up, Bailey! I’m dying out here!”
I hold my breath as I step out of the stall. Spencer’s mouth falls open, and, for once, he has nothing to say. Charlotte makes a choking sound, as if she’s trying not to squeal.
I take a breath and smooth out the front of the dress. “I haven’t looked yet. Is it too much?”
Spencer, who hasn’t even blinked, shakes his head while Charlotte turns me around to face the mirror. I let out a small gasp. “Oh, wow.”
“You’ve got that right.” Charlotte steps up next to me and smiles in the mirror. “Didn’t I tell you that was the one?”
“It’s the one,” I agree.
“It’s definitely the one,” Spencer says. His voice is strained. When I look at him, his eyes sweep over me and he wets his lips. “Bay…you are…breathtaking.”
The way he can’t stop staring makes me wish more than anything that I could touch him. I would give anything to be able to feel his arms around me one last time. To kiss him once more. My eyes mist over, and I have to shut them.
“Bailey?” Charlotte asks. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve never worn red before because it clashed with Spencer’s hair and didn’t do much for his pale skin. I know I’m weird, coordinating my outfits with my boyfriend’s looks, but I always wanted us to look good together. I hated that people teased us about me being too hot for him.”
Spencer’s smile becomes pained. “I never minded, Bailey. It only made you even more special to me because you were too hot for me, but you loved me anyway.”
“I still love you, Spence.” I swallow back a lump in my throat and take a breath before meeting Charlotte’s gaze. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so emotional on you, it’s just, Spencer died the night of the homecoming game last year, and we didn’t get to go to the dance. I’m not sure if I can do it.”
Charlotte smiles and squeezes my hand in hers. “That’s exactly why you need to do it. To prove to yourself that you can. I didn’t know him, but I’m sure he would want you to go.”
Spencer gives me two enthusiastic thumbs up, and I snort. “I’m sure he does.”
Spencer laughs. “You bet I do. And I want you to go wearing that dress.”
How can I say no? “What do you think?” I ask Charlotte. “Silver shoes?”
Charlotte beams at me and squeals the tiniest bit as she wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”
After we find some amazing shoes to go with the dress, we talk accessories as we head to the café where we’re meeting Mom and Julia. Charlotte hugs her shopping bag with a sigh. “It’s a bit of a shame we’re going to be the hottest girls at the dance and the only ones without dates.”
I feel bad that she’s giving up a date for me. “You still have time,” I tell her. “I’m sure there are a thousand guys who would love to go with you.”
She shrugs. “I was thinking more about you. That dress… It may not have worked with Spencer, but you know who would look really great standing next to you in that dress? That guy from school the other day. The one who freaked everybody out when he showed up.”
My stomach lurches. “Wes?”
Spencer snickers. I resist the urge to glare at him for it.
“He’s gorgeous,” Charlotte says.
When I don’t reply, Charlotte nudges me lightly with her shoulder. “Would I be a terrible friend if I ask what your history is with him? You obviously have one.”
“You haven’t heard the story yet?”
I can’t help the bitterness in my tone, but Charlotte isn’t upset by it. She links her arm in mine. “Rumors. But I’d rather get the real story from you. If you’ll trust me with it.”
Part of me really wants to tell her. Nobody knows the entire story except for Wes and me. I need to get it off my chest, but, as much as I like Charlotte, I’m not ready to admit the truth yet. I can give her most of it, though. “Wes was Spencer’s best friend since they were in diapers. When I moved into the house behind Spencer’s, they adopted me as one of them. The three of us were inseparable until I asked Spencer to be my boyfriend. Wes got mad at me for changing everything between the three of us and for stealing his best friend. Spencer always made as much time for Wes as he did for me, but it didn’t matter. Things were never the same between us after that. Then, when Spencer died, Wes’s dislike turned to hatred. I think he dropped out of school after the funeral because he couldn’t stand to be around me.”
Charlotte shakes her head with vehemence. “No, that can’t be right. When you bolted the other day, he ran after you. He paced outside the bathroom waiting for you. If you hadn’t come out when you did, I think he would have gone in after you. He looked worried about you.”
If only that were the truth. “He wanted to talk to me. We hadn’t spoken since Spencer’s funeral, and we never discussed what really happened that night. I’m sure he has things he wants to get off his chest. He blames me for Spencer’s death.”
Charlotte is quiet for a moment before she says, “Do you blame yourself for his death?”
I suck in a breath and nod. “It was my fault.”
“But didn’t he die in a car accident? I heard he was driving drunk. How could that be your fault?”
My stomach drops, and I look at the ground. “There was a reason Spencer got drunk, and there was a reason he drove home alone that night. I was the reason for both.”
Charlotte pulls me to a halt, disrupting the flow of New York City pedestrians enough that several people grumble curses at us. Charlotte replies with a few choice words of her own and then drags me against the building we’re passing, out of the way of other people. “That’s unfair,” she says. “You can’t blame yourself for Spencer’s choices. And I think you’re misinterpreting the situation with Wes. You didn’t see the look on his face when he held you in his arms the other day. Whatever his issues are, that guy cares about you.”
My heart flutters in my chest. I want it to be true. I want Wes to care for me like I still care for him. But I don’t see how that’s possible.
“Maybe you should talk to him.”
I shake my head, trying to ward off my hope as much as answer her question. “I tried to the other day. I offered him a ride home after our internship, and he said no because being around me was too difficult. He told me he couldn’t be my friend.”
Charlotte frowned, refusing to believe me. “That doesn’t make any sense. There has to be something else going on. You should talk to him again. Try to smooth things over.” She startles, as if coming up with a bright idea. “Ask him to come to the dance with you.” She grins and adds, “If you show him your dress, he won’t say no.”
“Charlotte, he’s not going to go to the dance with me. He wouldn’t even accept a five-minute ride home. And besides, going stag was your idea. I can’t ditch you.”
“I’d let you, if it was for him. He is that hot.”
I smile despite my foul mood and roll my eyes as I pull Charlotte back into the flowing mass of New Yorkers. “If you like him so much, maybe you should ask him to the dance.”
“Oh no. I like him for you. He’s not my type.”
I snort. “Wes is everyone’s type.”
Charlotte cuts me an accusatory sideways glance. “Even yours?”
Yes. Even mine. Though I’ll never admit that to anyone. I look forward, praying my cheeks aren’t blushing. “Can we please stop talking about Wes? We’re almost to the café, and I really don’t want my mom to start asking questions about him.”
Charlotte gives me a knowing smile that annoys me to no end and pretends to zip her lips. “No more boy talk. For now. I promise.”