Nina
I stare at the mess of clothes on my bed, chewing on my lip, hands hovering over yet another dress I pulled from the closet. Black satin? Red silk? Am I really going on this date, or is this some half-assed attempt at proving I’ve moved on?
I drag a hand through my hair, glancing at my phone lighting up on the bed. Jaxon’s name flashes across the screen, again. Fourth time today. I let it ring, feeling my stomach twist. If I pick up, I know damn well I’ll just cancel this whole date. And I can’t do that. I need this. Even if it’s a mistake.
With a frustrated sigh, I drop the black dress and go for something simpler—deep emerald green, a sleek, fitted style that hugs in all the right places. At least if I’m making a bad decision, I might as well look like I’m enjoying it.
I slip it
