I'm Not That Girl

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty Five

      “Elle! Let me in!” Cameron complained, knocking on the door.

      “No! I’m getting dressed!” I yelled.

      “Even more of a reason for me to come in!”

      I didn’t answer to him; instead, I shuffled through my closet, when I saw it. The dress Nick had supposedly picked out for me. I scrutinized it more carefully. Yup, Danni definitely contributed to the decision making process part of picking it out. It was a muted purple dress that shone in the light. It was nice, I guess. Thanks, Nick. I tried it on, and, sure enough, it fit perfectly. I looked in the mirror, and the proportions-- I think that’s what Kara calls it; but, to be honest, I don’t think they have anything to do with the type of proportions I’m used to, like in math-- were perfect. The dress stopped right above my knees, wasn’t too revealing, and felt perfect. The material was soft and flexiable, so I’d be able to tolerate it for the next few hours.

      Going over to my shoe closet, I found a pair of silver heels that would guarantee me getting blisters by the end of the night, but also looked nice with the purple. I slipped the heels on, and then took them right back off remembering why I hated them in the first place. I’d put them on later.

      I took my hair out of my ponytail, and let the natural waves brush over my shoulders. I looked fine. Danni would approve, and Nick would be happy that I was wearing his dress. I still couldn’t believe that I had finally admitted something to myself… and Cameron… that I always subconsciously knew, but was avoiding. I loved Nick, I just didn’t know what I’d ever do if he said he didn’t love me back.

      “Ms. Paterson, are you done?” Cam asked, knocking hard on my door.

      “Yes,” I said, opening it, as his fist was about to pound on it once again.

      “Wow. You look-- lovely; truly radiant.”

      “Who the hell says that anymore?” I rolled my eyes.

      “I do.”

      “Okay, Cam, just because you’re British doesn’t mean you can get away with saying old people words like ‘radiant’,” I said, brushing past him in the hallway. He stopped me from advancing forward by placing his hands around my waist. He was shirtless, yet again. Did he honestly think his perfectly toned abs would draw me in, and cause me to forget that Nick and I ever were? Sometimes I didn’t get Cameron.

      “Really? Because most people love my accent, and the way I speak,” he whispered into my ear.

      “Let. Go.”

      “Elle, don’t be stubborn. I’m fully aware that you want me.”

      “But you see, Cam, I don’t. I want Nick. I love Nick, and I’m happy. Let go, and move the fuck on!” I tried to move, but his grasp was too tight.

      “Elle! Let’s go! I’m already changed! Come on! We’re going to be late!” Nick said, running down the hall. He halted when he saw us. Cameron still didn’t let go.

      “He won’t let go!” I complained.

      “Cameron, please let go of my amazingly gorgeous goddess of girlfriend who happens to be wearing the dress I got her that looks amazing on her, but she should probably put on some shoes, before I kill you,” Nick said, staring darkly at the Brit.

      “Nicholas,” Cameron began.

      “It’s Nick,” he corrected venomously.

      “Oh, I apologize. Nick,” before I could hear what he had in store next, I squirmed my way away from him, and hugged Nick tightly. I looked up, and kissed him. He pulled away quickly, with a remorseful look in his eyes. Then, I noticed for the first time that he wasn’t adorned in his ski swag, but rather in a very nice plaid and blue vest, and a light blue polo; making him look extra preppy.