Last Olive Bistro ✓

Chapter 12: The Dress

"I don't think this is a good idea," I urged Rory as we walked along Broadway in Lower Manhattan. The street was lined with designer shops, packed with tourists window shopping and snapping their perfect Instagram photo.

Rory pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and twisted his head towards me. "Do you have a credit card?"

"Yes, but it's only for emergencies."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"If you want to keep this guy, you need to make an investment," he said. "I don't mean anything extravagant like Gucci or Prada; let him buy you that. Where's he taking you?"

I froze. "I don't know."

"I guess we can assume it's somewhere swanky."

I gestured towards Bloomingdale's across the street. "Let's try there."

We entered the department store and were hit by wafts of fresh perfumes. They made me nostalgic for the times I tagged along on my mother's shopping ventures. The smells were familiar and lovely. They encouraged me to make another investment—a clean smelling perfume, with a hint of sweetness.

The ladies department was full of fluttery, fun summer dresses, and the evening gowns were located in a back corner. Colors and textures of all kinds were displayed on mannequins and hangers along the wall. There were slim styles, puffy styles, strapless, lace—if one could imagine a dream dress, this store likely had it.

I gravitated towards a baby pink, floor length gown with subtle ruffles. It was strapless and nearly backless. "What do you think of this?" I removed it from the rack and held it up.

He half chuckled. "I don't understand you, Clo. You have amazing taste yet you don't allow yourself to show it. I love this, and I think you'd kill in it. Do you think it will be too formal?"

I shrugged. "I have no idea. It's the first one that caught my eye, and I honestly don't want to be here very long. The color is gorgeous." I returned it to the rack and found one that was my size.

Rory hummed and browsed around at other options. "Don't give up on black—it's a rich color. Look here," he pulled a dark gown from the wall hangers and held it up in front of me. It had a see-through corset bodice and was way sexier than the pink one.

"I'm not sure. It's hot but a little too exposed; I think he's more conservative than this," I replied.

"You don't know that. He could be another 50 Shades," Rory teased.

I scoffed. "If that's the case, then I don't want to go on this date."

Rory playfully hit my arm. In my mind, the perfect dress was something classic yet summer-y. I didn't want it short, but I didn't want to roast like a baked chicken either. White was out of the question because many of the dresses were borderline wedding gowns.

"What got into you? Your confidence is finally clawing its way out after all these years?" Rory asked as he sifted through more dresses.

"Honestly, I think it was the drag performers," I said. "They made me feel fearless. Like—to hell with what anyone thinks—wear whatever you want, be whoever you are. And I might as well start taking leaps towards that."

Rory smiled warmly and it showed that deep down he was proud of me. I was also starting to be proud of me.

"Rory... what if this guy is serious? I mean, what if he's so serious about a relationship with me, and we get along, and..."

He was quiet; he was thinking the same thing I was. The reality of the situation was finally sinking in as we glided our fingers over the variety of sparkling, satin, and ruffled dresses. I was preparing to go on a date with an incredibly wealthy man, one who was actively pursuing me. It hadn't felt real until now.

"That's why we're going to make sure you knock him out—hypothetically," he said. "Try on the pink one you saw first."

I stared at the luxury fabric draped over my arm, then traced the tuft of ruffles that stuck out. "I think I already love it."

"Yeah but you might need to get it fitted," he said. He blissfully pushed me towards a dressing room to get the thing on.

It was a miracle that the gown fit, for the most part. It was a bit too long, but so were many clothes on my short frame. The rest of it was stunning—the sharp neckline outlined my chest by showing tasteful cleavage and the certain shade of peachy pink made the slightest tan on my sunkissed skin glow golden.

Rory's mouth hung open when I stepped out of the fitting room. My heart was light; I felt the best I ever did about myself.

"Holy sh— You are beautiful," he said, a teary smile on his face. His reaction almost made me begin to cry.

"I guess it's a winner?"

He circled around me, examining the gown top to bottom. "You think it's easy enough to get off?"

"Rory!"

He chuckled and fluffed up the ruffles. "It might matter. It's better to be prepared."

"I don't think so," I replied, laughing. I smoothed the bodice and admired the front criss cross design. "I'm not ready to move that fast."

Rory gently pulled my hair back into a loose up-do, considering the style. I shook my head so my hair fell out of his grasp.

"I'm thinking loose waves instead."

"Let's not forget the shoes because those aren't going to work." Rory gestured at my leopard print flats.

I danced a little jig which made Rory cower with embarrassment. I cackled at the break in seriousness.

But my rapid beating heart reminded me that the upcoming date was important and that it could possibly change my life. I tried not to hold too many high expectations of Jacob. I hadn't even spent more than an hour with him. In the back of my mind, I prepared myself for him to possibly turn out to be a jerk, or that he held some devastating secret. I couldn't get my hopes up, but that didn't stop me from trying my best, because in the end I was not planning on disappointing myself.