“Okay,” I say, placing my lips to his for a soft kiss. Bray pushes his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss until he’s on top of me. I reach to pull his towel away, but he grabs my wrist, stopping my movement.
“I have to go,” he says through gritted teeth. I let myself go lax against the bed and try to hide my disappointment. I’ve been trying to get him to work less, tempting him to stay home with me more, but it never seems to work. I wonder if he’ll always be like this, but I squash that thought as soon as it enters my head. I won’t always be his. This is just temporary. A girl like me doesn’t end up with a man like Bray. But I’ll always hang on to the fact that I was his first.
Placing one last kiss on my lips, Bray pulls himself from the bed and finishes getting ready.
“Tomorrow, right, Rebecca?” he asks before he heads out the door. I know when he uses my real name I’m either in trouble or he’s being totally serious.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” I confirm, not wanting to get into it right now. He’s right, we have enough going on today.
Nodding his agreement, he’s out the door.
Hours later the stylist shows up and starts her makeover. Immediately I can tell from the look on her face that she isn’t too happy with what she sees. In fact, she’s pissed that she’s going to have to dye my hair.
“The pink and purple have to go,” she says, eyeing my hair.
“No, I like it.”
“Fine, if you want to embarrass Mr. Spencer at the benefit, have at it,” she says, and I feel my stomach knot. Maybe she’s right. It would be best to blend in and get this night over with. I can’t seem to look forward to dressing up and going out because I’m so nervous.
Nodding, she gets to work and doesn’t say much as she does my hair. She decides on a dress while my new color is setting, before she does my make-up—something about matching my make-up to my dress. I don’t understand all of it. She goes to the closet and after a few moments comes back with a floor-length, strapless navy-blue dress.
Four hours later, I barely recognize myself in the mirror. I do look pretty, beautiful really, but I don’t feel like me.
The freckles that sprinkle my nose are gone, due to the layer of foundation, blush, and bronzer she put on me. I didn’t ask what anything was, but I think the woman wanted to educate me as she worked. My eye make-up is heavy and it makes my eyes seem a lighter purple. The make-up is flawless, but it’s not what I’m used to, and I look much older than my eighteen years.
She ended up stripping the color from my hair, so I’m as close to my natural color as I’ve been since before I started coloring it. My bright blonde locks are twisted at the base of my neck in a tight updo, and my part is sleek to one side. It’s not really painful, I just don’t think I can turn my head without turning my body in the same direction.
I was reluctant about the dress, because my boobs are so big, but whoever bought the dress nailed it. It fits well under my arms and holds me snug. It’s fitted but not too tight and, I have to say, looks great on my curves. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it more than an hour in the matching heels without killing myself, but at least the dress gives me a little bit of confidence.
I wonder what Bray will think. If he’ll like this look on me or not. Part of me wants him to love it and the other part hopes he hates it. That he sees this isn’t me and that it’s not someone I want to be. This whole thing makes me feel like a liar and I hope he’s able to see that.
The stylist leaves just before six, and as I inspect myself in the mirror I hear the front door open. I make my way to the front living room and I hear a woman's laughter. Rounding the corner, I see a smile spread across Bray’s face as he watches the unknown woman laugh.
“Is that so? I bet you the Byron’s account that you’re full of it,” the woman says, laughter still in her voice, neither noticing that I’ve entered the room. She’s utterly stunning. She’s almost as tall as Bray in her heels, with a slim waist and shiny black hair that falls to just above her shoulders. Her pale skin and dark hair are a bold contrast against her red dress. She’s more classically beautiful than Cindy. Her elegance and poise flow without effort.
Normally when Bray gets home, the first thing he does is seek me out. No matter where I am he has me up against the closest wall, making me tell him how much I missed him. I remember his earlier promise of inspecting me when he got home tonight, but that seems to have been forgotten.
“I swear it. She’s—” his words cut off when he sees me, and the smile that was on his face drops. He looks at me with angry eyes while the woman’s smile from before grows even bigger.
“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me, B?” the woman asks. Great, she has a nickname for him. I try to hide my eye roll of jealousy because she did just compliment me.
“My apologies. Chelsea, this is Rebecca, the woman I was telling you about.” I’m not sure what I am to Bray, but obviously he is telling this stranger who I am.
Chelsea comes forward and I reach my hand out to shake hers, but she surprises me and pulls me in for a hug. When she pulls back I have to look up to see her face because of how much taller she is than me, even in the heels I’m wearing. Her smile is so big I can’t help but return it.
“Cupcake?” she asks, holding up a little box of baked goods.
“Yes, please,” I say, realizing that I’m starving. Glancing over, I see Bray’s still standing there with a cold look on his face. It sends chills down my spine.