dressed to impress
Your story must include a VOTE for something or someone.
Your story must feature an item made of silk.
Your story must include the words ANGRY, CIRCLE, STRIKE.
“Can you help me pick out something to wear?”
They’d been in the middle of a late afternoon movie binge, snacks scavenged from the pantry, socked feet propped on the coffee table, when Jennifer’s phone had buzzed. Connor wasn’t quick enough to see the message flash on the screen, but he didn’t expect to feel so angry at how quickly her fingers sped across the screen.
Now, instead of curled up on her comfy couch, Connor was perched on the edge of his best friend’s bedspread, sitting on his hands and trying not to scowl at the outfits she presented.
Each new dress had felt like a strike to his careful restraint. Many of the dresses he had admired before—a dark green one she might have kept since their school formal, a little black number she’d only worn a few weeks ago when they’d shared a pint at the local pub. One dress had a plunging neckline so deep he could see the edge of her lacey bra. That option went straight to the top of the discard pile.
“How about this one?”
Jennifer stepped out of her walk-in wardrobe in a pale blue sundress. Little daisies dotted the skirt, and when she turned in a tight circle, the edges fluttered so wide that Connor could see the tops of her thighs.
When he shook his head, Jennifer let out another frustrated groan. He couldn’t exactly blame her—at this rate, he’d vetoed at least half her closet. There was an ever-growing mountain of clothes beside him on the bed.
“Connor,” she huffed. “I’m going to be late.”
“Good,” he muttered as she disappeared back into the closet. She'd miss the date with this prick altogether if he delayed her long enough.
When she reappeared in front of him a minute later, Connor simply forgot how to breathe. She had found a sleek, burgundy number at the back of her closet, a dress he’d never seen before. The silk fabric clung tightly to her skin, emphasising every one of her tempting curves.
“This one,” Jennifer said firmly. “I vote this one.”
“No,” Connor began, rising quickly to his feet. It seemed like his self-control had finally worn thin. There was no way he could let her go out now. “I vote you tell this guy to bugger off, and you have dinner with me instead.”
Jennifer watched him curiously as he approached, then sucked in a soft breath when his hand found the curve of her hip. His thumb dragged slowly over the smooth fabric.
“Like a date?” she asked softly, blinking up at him.
There was no denying it now. “Yes, Jen, like a date.”
She studied his face closely for a long moment, then shifted closer until their chests pressed together. Their mouths were only an inch apart, close enough that Connor could feel her breath on his skin.
“And what should I wear for this date?” she murmured.
“Nothing at all.”