Say the Word(97)

“You’re drinking too?” I asked him, raising one eyebrow at the sight of the second glass.

“Friends don’t let friends do tequila shots alone.”

I smiled as I poured out two helpings. I lifted one, clinked it against Simon’s mid-air, and prepared to toss it back.

“What are we toasting?” Simon asked.

“Bad decisions,” I said, tilting the shot glass and pouring the burning liquid down my throat.

“Which, of course, are only ever improved when tequila is involved,” he noted in a wry voice, before throwing back his own serving. He coughed delicately, set both of our glasses in the kitchen sink, and put the cork back in the bottle. “Come on, baby. I have a surprise that’ll make you feel better, and then its story time.”

“You’re going to read me a story?” I felt my brow furrow as I laced my fingers with Simon’s outstretched hand and allowed myself to be led across the open loft toward his bedroom.

He snorted. “No, don’t be an idiot. You’re going to tell me the story of why you’re at my apartment at—” He glanced at his watch. “—8:15 p.m. on a Monday night. Call it payment for the tequila shot.”

I rolled my eyes and followed along in his wake. “What’s my ‘surprise’? It better not involve anything with glitter — and no, before you ask, I will not let you wax my eyebrows again. Last time, I ended up looking like Lindsay Lohan pre-rehab.”

“That waxing pot was defective!” Simon protested. “It wasn’t my fault!”

“Mhmm.”

“You’ll be sorry you ever doubted me when you see what I have for you.” He dropped my hand when we reached the door to his bedroom, and I hopped up on his bed.

“The suspense is killing me,” I drawled.

“No need for sarcasm.” Simon crossed his room and grabbed a large garment bag from his closet. I looked from the bag to his face, which bore an alarmingly happy expression as he approached.

“Oh, no,” I muttered, realization dawning.

“Oh, yes,” Simon squealed, unzipping the bag with a flourish to reveal a floor-length, Grecian style gown in ice blue. Elegantly draped fabric covered each shoulder and an ornate, silver-gilded belt gathered the material below the breast line to create an empire waist and a plunging v-neck. The daring neckline was far riskier than I’d ever choose for myself and would be sure to turn heads if I tried to squeeze my C-cups into it — but the dress’ real eye-catching feature was the back.

Or lack-thereof.

On the other side of the dress, material from each shoulder fell straight down on either side and draped in a low cowl at the small of the back, leaving the entire spine exposed. From there, the sheath of blue fabric cascaded to the floor in a short yet elaborate sweeping train that was designed to drag several inches on the ground with each step.

“Ta-da!” Simon yelled. “Surprise!”

I stared at him, more confused now than I’d been the time he told me I was no longer allowed to wear wedge-heeled sandals because they were ‘cheating’ — apparently, in his world, heels don’t count as heels unless they’re a chore to walk in.

“Um, Si, are you sure this isn’t for Fae?”

His face contorted into a look of disgust. “Of course I’m sure. Fae’s an olive-toned brunette — a summer color girl, not a winter. Ice blue would be a disaster on her. You, on the other hand, will look fabulous in this. That creamy skin and blonde hair — my little ice princess.” His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“But where would I ever wear this?”

Now it was his turn to don a look of disbelief. “Um, I don’t know, maybe to the huge, once-in-a-lifetime celebratory ball we’re required to attend next week at our place of employment?”

Shit. In all the madness of my investigation and Sebastian, I’d completely forgotten about the upcoming Luster party — and the fact that I had yet to purchase a dress.

“Centennial,” I muttered.

“There’s the lightbulb!” Simon grinned and pulled me from my perch on the end of his bed. Leading me over to stand before his full-length mirror, he circled around behind me and held the dress to my front.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered.

I stared at the dress in the mirror, picturing the frost-blue against my porcelain skin and my hair twisted up in an elegant knot. I’d look like Cinderella — a sluttier version, perhaps, but a princess nonetheless. If not for Simon, I’d have been attending in whatever I could find last minute at Macy’s.

“I’ll never be able to pay you back. This must’ve cost a fortune,” I murmured, thinking it was worth every penny even as I mentally reconfigured funds in my bank accounts to cover the expense.

Simon simply chuckled.

“Where’d you get this?” I asked, breathless as I examined the gown more closely. “It’s amazing.”

“I made it,” he said, shrugging as though it was no big deal. “Figured I should put all those skills I learned at Parsons to good use. It’s not like I use them at Luster.”

“Simon!” I exclaimed. “Are you serious? This is an incredible dress! It should be on a model, walking down a runway somewhere.”

“I know,” he huffed. “Took me freaking forever to get the draping right. But every incredible girl needs an incredible dress to match.”