❝I think you're my favorite person.❞
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Since childhood, Lila's had her mind set on what she wants. And now in her senior year, that's getting into West Michigan State University. But her overbearing...
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I DON'T KNOW what people wear to parties.
Mainly because I've never been to one. I don't think that would be much of a shock though. I've been invited to a couple, but I would decline each one, and after a while, people stopped asking altogether.
I can't say I was disappointed by it, I pretty much asked for it to happen. But the amount fo embarrassment that filled me when Jack didn't believe I would be at his party was outstanding.
I huff out a breath as I throw yet another shirt onto the ground. I'm considering going in Google to find any inspiration. And that is saying something considering it's Google.
I've tried on at least ten shirts, and Chase will be here in less than an hour and a half. Safe to say I'm panicking.
I'm about to go for a skirt when there's a knock on my door and Mom walks in with a smile on her face.
Ever since she found out that Chase is real—and my boyfriend—she has not stopped smiling. I don't know whether to be happy or scared. Maybe both.
"Oh my..." she trails off, seeing the pile of clothing on the floor. "Looks like your closet threw up."
I snort, "Think it's too late to back out of this?"
She raises a brow. "You know the answer to that already," and I do. It's way too late. "Don't worry, honey, I'll help you."
My brows shoot up at that. I'm usually not picky when it comes to clothes. I see something, I like it, I buy it. But tonight it's different, and having my mom help me might be a good thing, so I say, "Please do."
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About an hour later, Mom and I have composed an outfit that I think works pretty well. I look in the mirror one last time, taking in my black skirt and silver halter top.
Although I tried my best with my makeup, I'm not very good at it—so I'm hoping I don't look like a raccoon instead of what I think is a smoky eye.
The doorbell suddenly rings and a knot of nerves finds its way to my chest. I can hear mom greeting who I know is Chase downstairs.
