Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Oh, Cal. I love it.”
She steps onto the podium and whooshes out her skirt as she bites her lip. It turns white from the pressure of her teeth as she looks herself over. This is her fourth fitting for this dress. Aviva, her sister, found it in South Carolina and had it shipped to her, and we’ve been coming to get it altered and make sure it’s what Callie wants. Somedays, I feel like she doesn’t like it.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I prompt as I meet her eyes in the mirror.
Callie exhales. “I feel like the slit is too much now.”
I try not to laugh. “Okay. Why? I think you look incredible. I love this silhouette. The bodice fits perfectly, and the way it lays on your hips is flawless. The back is gorgeous. I mean, I know we have like six months until the wedding, but I think the dress is perfect.” She doesn’t say anything, just watches herself as she moves back and forth. “If this is the dress you want,” I add that just to remind her she can go a different direction.
“I’m pretty sure someone would lose their mind at me after I had this thing altered four times.”
“I’ll protect you,” I say with a wink, and she grins. “Is this not the dress you want to marry Evan in?”
She drags her eyes down her body as she exhales once more. “It is, but I can hear Nico in my head.”
Oh, I love her brother-in-law/dad, but man, with his autism, he can get in her head. He doesn’t have a filter at all, and also, I think he still feels Callie is a little girl, the one he helped with math. He’s so protective, but Evan is just dreamy.
“Let him go. He’s gonna be very supportive and loving that day, or I’ll kill him. Or Aviva will.”
She laughs at that. “But what if Evan doesn’t like it?”
“Callie, come on,” I say with an eye roll. “He just wants you to be Mrs. Evan Adler. All this other crap doesn’t matter, does it?”
Her eyes sparkle at that. “It doesn’t. We’ve waited years for this.”
“Exactly.”
She holds my gaze in the mirror, still unsure.
“Do you feel gorgeous in the dress?”
She slowly nods. “I do.”
“Then you’re golden, Cal. It’s a done deal.”
A grin moves over her lips before she turns, wrapping her arms around my neck tightly. I hug her back just as tight, thankful to have her as my best friend.
With my laptop open, I take a bite of my salad while Callie sits across from me, doing the same. She has a paper that is due this afternoon, and I’m working on my presentation for my meeting with Coach and the social media team. Callie and I do this a lot. Even though she lives with Evan in their own little townhouse, thankfully, I’m still welcome whenever I want. I, unfortunately, still live in the Bullies’ gymnastics house, mostly to save money, but it’s getting to be too stressful. My influencer status is getting too big for campus living. I need to find myself a little townhouse like this, off campus, but I also want to travel, and I don’t want to be tied to a lease. I wish I could make up my mind about what I want to do. I’ve already been offered a position with Bellevue’s social media team, but I’m unsure if I want to stay in Tennessee. I can go anywhere, do anything, so it’s hard to make such a big decision. Yeah, my parents are here, my friends, and everything I know, but sometimes I feel that there is more out there. That I should want more, yet I have no clue.
Which isn’t good when I’m about to be a real adult.
Not that I’m a fake one, but, like, I can go both ways. On the one hand, I’m still an immature little girl, and on the other, I’m a put-together woman boss. I toe the line beautifully. Much like I do on beam.
As I go over my notes and make notations, mentally, I remind myself to remember details, which is a bad idea since I can’t remember anything. So, I make more notes, filling Post-it notes and sticking them to my computer. When I open my final project file, which has been flagged by my professor, I groan inwardly when I see a note from her.
I need something different from the gymnastics team’s social media. It is apparent that you are talented in marketing a gymnastics team—or any team, for that matter. Give me something else. Give me more. I want to see you think outside the box. I know you have it in you, Ms. White.
Fanfuckingtastic.
I let my head fall to the kitchen table, bouncing off the bowl of salad and getting hit in the face with a cucumber and a tomato.