Spring Break (ONC 2023)

4: Twenty Questions

The sparkly, emerald-green garment (I hesitated to call anything so insubstantial a dress) barely covered my ass and did nothing to hide the fact I had basically no boobs.

Usually, I didn't mind being boobless; it saved a lot of hassle, to be honest. The only time I minded was when I knew I would be judged for it. And maybe it was unfair of me, but I got the feeling Tyler was the sort of guy who valued T&A over less substantial things, like personality and brains.

"Why are you even playing along, then?" I asked my scantily clad reflection. "You're not staying, anyway."

Sighing, I picked up the lacy black shawl I'd found beside the dress (it was flimsy, but at least it conveyed the illusion of warmth) and wrapped it around my shoulders before slipping on the strappy sandals that accompanied it.

I had no idea where Cece had gotten the clothes—they weren't off the rack, for sure, and they weren't my style—but they fit perfectly.

Giving myself one last disparaging glance—a quick shower had improved my hair if nothing else—I slipped from the room and found my way downstairs.

Everyone had gathered in the dining area, which, in the space of an hour, had been transformed. The long table was pushed against the wall beneath the windows and now served as a buffet, while four small, round tables took its place. Each had a white tablecloth, a single rose in a vase, a candle, and a bottle of champagne on ice. Strands of tiny twinkly lights crisscrossed the ceiling, and soft music with a chill beat played from some hidden sound system.

The others were grouped around the buffet table, admiring the spread, and I saw that everyone's outfit matched the color of their rooms.

"Ray-ray!" Cece squealed and ran to meet me as fast as she could in her open-toed, ruby-red heels. Her slinky dress was the same color and showed off her curves to good effect. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to come get you! You look gorgeous, girl! Like a young, lesbo Ann Hathaway, or something!"

I made a face. "You look nice, too."

"Psh!" She hit my arm and laughed, making her plume of natural curls shake. "I know. Now, come on—we're starting."

"Where did all this come from?" I asked, eyeing the table of heated serving trays with shiny covers.

"It's like a luxury catering meal prep kit," Cece said. "I ordered it delivered, and Lupe put it together."

"Lupe?"

"The housekeeper lady." Cece waved her hand. "There's, like, a restaurant kitchen in the basement, or something, for when people have big events here."

"Wow!" Tyler lifted the lid of the first tray. "Not bad!"

"Everybody grab a plate," Cece said, "but don't serve yourself—serve your date. And don't worry—unless someone's gone vegan in the last week, everybody should be able to eat everything here."

With an exchange of looks and shrugs, we all moved into line. I ended up in the middle between Rose, who wore a yellow gown that went enviably well with her light skin (I loved yellow but couldn't wear it without looking like Paddington Bear), and Tyler, who wore a surprisingly stylish dark-brown suit (also enviable, but only because it looked warm).

As I moved along the table from dish to dish, I admired the quality of the meal. There was a fancy green salad, little rounds of bacon-wrapped steak, grilled asparagus, roasted new potatoes, biscuits with creamy mushroom gravy, and little, individual cakes with chocolate ganache and raspberries on top.

I served Tyler a reasonable portion of everything, except the cake, which had separate plates, and moved to find our table. I set his plate in front of the little card with his name on it and sat opposite.