The Switch [COMPLETED]

Chapter 43

Paisley Monroe:

Jenny was following me around the apartment, bustling around straightening my jacket and fussing with my hair like an anxious mother hen. She had just licked her thumb and was reaching for a spot near my forehead when I finally laughed and batted her hand away. 

"Jen, would you stop?" I asked with a chuckle. "I'm fine!"

"You're NOT fine," Jenny insisted, grabbing me by the shoulders and looking me directly in the eye. "This is your first official book signing as a New York Times bestselling author. You need to look FIRE."

I rolled my eyes and removed her hands from my shoulders.

"I look fine, Jen. I'm comfortable. I'm me."

I was wearing a soft, cream-colored sweater and dark jeans tucked into my favorite pair of tan booties. My hair was loosely pulled back into a ponytail and held in place with an emerald green silk scarf. Asher had once told me that emerald green complemented my eyes...

I pushed the memory out of my mind and resumed my walk around the apartment, gathering everything that I would need for the book signing and throwing it into my oversized tote bag. 

"I'm just saying, it wouldn't kill you to put on a little eyeliner!" Jenny shouted from across the room. "Or maybe that killer dress I bought you for your birthday!"

"Jen, I'm going to a bookstore, not a nightclub. I'm signing books, not walking a red carpet."

"You might as well be. You're FAMOUS to some of these book nerds," she said, plopping down on the couch and idly flipping through the pages of a copy of my book that was sitting out on the coffee table. "I mean, I don't blame them. You're brilliant. How did you come up with the idea for this story, anyways? It's completely bizarre."

I blushed and turned my face away from Jenny so she wouldn't see the uncomfortable expression that passed over my face.

"Oh, you know...it was in a dream I had or something," I said nonchalantly. "Are you coming with me to the signing?" I asked quickly, changing the subject. "We have to leave soon."

"Yeah, I'm coming," Jenny said, jumping off of the couch and shutting my book with a bang. "Just let me get dressed. Unlike SOME people, I have a stylish reputation to uphold."

With that she flounced out of the room, a teasing smile painted on her lips. 

Thirty minutes later, Jenny and I were walking down the street to the small bookshop where I was to be signing copies of my novel and hanging out with book-lovers and fans of my work. My publishing agent had offered to send a car, but it was a nice autumn day and I wanted to walk. Besides, the bookstore wasn't too far away from the flat that I shared with Jenny. 

Jenny, however, made it abundantly clear that she would have preferred to take the car. 

"It's like four miles!" she was saying, pulling her thin sweater more tightly around her skinny frame. "And these heels are killing my feet!"

I laughed and rolled my eyes, giving her a good-natured poke in the ribs.

"It's more like four BLOCKS, Jen. And I told you to dress more warmly than that!" Jen stuck out her bottom lip in an overly dramatic pout, and I smiled to myself. I knew just the thing to cheer Jen up. She was a sucker for compliments. "Although I must admit, you look amazing. You were right; those heels make your legs look a Victoria's Secret model's."

Instantly, Jenny smiled and began walking straighter, strutting down the sidewalk with a new pep in her step as if she were on the runway at New York Fashion Week.