by Steph Nuss
“But no,” he continued. “I don’t have anything else planned besides dinner and conversation. Doll her up all you want, H, but you put her in some cute sweats.”
“Sounds good,” Harper said into the receiver.
“Could you take me off speaker for a second and give the phone to Whitley?” he asked.
Harper hit the button again, turning the speaker off, and then handed her phone over to me. “It’s just me now.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth and sexy. “You called Harper?”
“It looks like a bomb went off in my closet, Max,” I insisted with a laugh. “I needed help.”
“Well, I’m sorry she brought all of the troops with her, especially Bayler.”
I smiled at the girls as they started hanging up the nice tops and jeans I had strewn all over my room. They meant well even if some of them had different ideas about a first date. “It’s okay. They’re being helpful.”
“Good,” he stated. “I just wanted to tell you to not fret over tonight. I didn’t ask you out because of the way you dress or how your hair or makeup looks.”
Turning away from the girls, I meandered into the hall for more privacy. “Then why did you ask me out?”
“Because you’ve inspired me to be a better person, to do better,” he answered strongly. “Now, let me inspire you to be comfortable. Wear the sweats, Whit.”
“Fine,” I teased, peering back into my room. “But I’m going to warn you now that most of my sweats have a hole or a stain on them.”
“Even better,” he chuckled. “I want to know how every hole and stain got there.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“Bye!”
I ended the call and handed the phone back to Harper. She tucked it away in her purse and then smiled back at me.
“Okay, where are your yoga pants?” she asked.
“Why?” I asked in horror.
Bayler rubbed her hands together as if she’d just thought of the perfect scheme. “Because men love yoga pants!”
I shot Elly, Tessa, and Paige a wary look, but they all nodded, agreeing with Bayler.
“It’s true. They do,” Elly stated with a shrug. “If Carter had it his way and I had to wear one outfit for the rest of my life, it would consist of yoga pants and a tight top.”
“Justin likes the convenience of them,” Tessa said.
“Yep!” Paige added. “Drake enjoys the way my ass looks in them.”
“Yoga pants are my green light for Fletcher,” Bayler explained. “If he sees me wearing them around the apartment, I’m not wearing them for long.”
“Okay, okay,” Harper declared. “Enough.”
I raised my hand nervously and finally gave my opinion. “Tonight, I would actually prefer to stay in my pants, so … Maybe no to the yoga pants?”
Harper held a large black tee up to my body and ran her eyes over it. “It’s too big, but it could work.”
I peeked around the shirt to see which one it was. Nike’s signature logo, the large white swoosh, ran down the length of the black material at an angle with its name stamped above the swoosh. I usually drowned in the shirt, but it’d been on sale and I made it work by tying the excess material into a knot at my hip.
“It’s way too big,” I insisted, shaking my head. “I usually have to tie it up.”
“That would be really cute though,” Tessa said, eyeing the shirt more closely. She took it from Harper’s hands and tilted it to one side. “It would be even cuter off the shoulder.”
“You’re right!” Harper exclaimed. “Whitley, do you have some scissors I could use?”
“Okay, wait, before you start cutting things up …” I walked over to my closet and grabbed the lounge set I knew I owned. “I have this matching lounge set that I could wear.”
“It’s velour,” Paige said, horrified, causing the room to go completely silent.
Okay, so apparently velour is not in style anymore.
“And it’s pink,” Elly added with a cringe.
I hung it back up, feeling dejected but genuinely curious. “What’s wrong with pink?”
“Nothing, unless it’s velour,” Harper explained, shaking her head. “I’ll ask you again, where are your yoga pants?”
Now, it was my turn to cringe. I loved wearing yoga pants. They were comfortable and perfect for workouts, but I didn’t think they were appropriate to wear on a date.
“I’m five seconds away from going through your drawers,” Bayler threatened.
“I’m going to go look for scissors!” Tessa announced, rushing out of the room.
I sighed. “Bottom drawer on the right.”
Bayler rummaged through the drawer and pulled out three different sets of yoga pants. The first was a black pair that was straight and tight with mesh cutouts along the calves. The second was a simple black cotton pair that flared at the bottom. And the last was a dark gray pair similar to the first.
Harper studied the three of them laid out on my bed before deciding on one. “We’re going to go with the black leggings.”
Bayler handed them to me. “Put these on.”
By the time I changed out of my shorts and into the leggings, Tessa had found the scissors in the kitchen, and she and Harper were cutting up the shirt.
“What kind of sports bras do you own?” Bayler asked, opening more drawers.
“Are we trying to make me look like a boy?” I retorted, brows raised in disbelief. I took one look at Bayler’s chest and scoffed. “Because I don’t have the rack that you do, and sports bras don’t do much for mine.”
“You could wear a camisole,” Paige pointed out. “It just needs to be colorful.”
“Yeah, you need that pop of color,” Elly said, nodding.
“A cami adds another layer,” Bayler contended.
Tessa sighed and shot Bayler a glare. “Girl, give it a rest. She’s not going for skimpy. She’s the mom of an eight-year-old boy. We’re going for the just-got-done-running-errands-but-I-still-look-hot look.”
Paige grabbed a hot pink cami out of my closet and handed it to me. “You may wear this pink cami.”
The room erupted with laughter again at Paige’s reference to the pink velour.
“I’m never going to live that down now, am I?”
“Hell no,” Harper teased. “That is a fashion no-no.”
“I’m sorry,” Tessa laughed. “I’m still picturing Paige’s horrified face when you pulled that set out of your closet.”
Elly nudged me. “I’m not up to date on all the fashion stuff either, but you should definitely burn the velour.”
“I could always give it to someone in need,” I asserted politely.
“Whit,” Bayler said, shaking her head. “Not even the needy would wear that shit.”
Yes, they would, I thought. Mentally, I noted to bag up the clothes I didn’t wear anymore and give them away. Surely, there were women out there who would rock a velour lounge set and feel confident in it. My fashion disaster could be someone else’s couture treasure.
Setting the pink cami on the bed, I pulled my shirt over my head and heard gasps suck away most of the air in the room, leaving me feeling exposed and alarmed as I groaned. “What now?”
“What kind of bra is that?” Elly asked, touching the padding. “It’s super padded.”
“And virginal,” Tessa added, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “It’s so white.”
“Is that a training bra?” Harper asked, appalled.
“It looks like gauze taped onto your chest,” Bayler suggested. “Are you hiding some wound we don’t know about?”
Paige took in the thickness of the straps. “These straps are not going to work with the spaghetti straps of the cami.”
Standing in my white bra, hands on my hips, I held my head high. “This is a Hanes ComfortFlex. It’s comfortable, supportive, and versatile. I can go from work to the gym wearing this bra.”
“That bra should go from you to the trash,” Tessa stated harshly. “If you don’t have anything sexier than that, you can wear the one I have on.”
“I have sexier bras,” I retorted defensively, “but Max said he wanted me to be comfortable. Underwire is not comfortable.”
“Oh, sweet Whitley.” Paige rested her hand on my arm gently. “We’re going to take you shopping after this date.”
“Yeah, they make hot, wireless bras,” Bayler stated, palming her boobs. “How else do you think I keep these girls trapped away all day?”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I don’t even plan on taking my shirt off tonight, so I don’t think I need to worry about what bra I’m wearing.”
“Really?” Elly asked incredulously. “You wouldn’t even let him cop a feel? Even if it’s over the shirt?”
“Yeah,” Harper said, nodding. “Guys mentally catalog what we’ve got going on underneath our clothes when they touch us for the first time.”
If my friends were appalled at the sight of my bra, I wondered what terrible thoughts would cross through Max’s mind. The thought was enough to drive a wedge of insecurity through my system. Feeling self-conscious, I trudged over to my top dresser drawer and opened it up. “Find me a bra to wear!”
The women rushed over to the drawer as I took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling utterly defeated. I couldn’t even dress myself for a date. In sweats, no less! The easiest outfit to throw together, and I struggled. Resting my face in my hands, tears pooled in my eyes. I felt like I’d just woken up from a coma, and I didn’t know how to be a normal woman. Sure, I could parent. I could be a mom, but when did I lose my sense of femininity? I hated feeling like a failure, like I failed myself as a woman because I couldn’t get ready for a simple dinner date with a man who was truly interested in me. It would be easier to just cancel now, so Max could cut his losses and move on with his life.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Elly cooed sympathetically. She knelt down and rested her hands on my knees. “What’s going on?”
Swiping under my eyes, I dried them and took a deep breath. “This is just so overwhelming. What does he even see in me? I’m a freakin’ mess who can’t even dress herself!”
“No, you’re not,” she said comfortingly.
“You have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever met,” Tessa said, taking a seat next to me. “Covered in one of the ugliest bras I’ve ever seen.”
I laughed lightly.
“You put everyone before you,” Paige added, taking the spot on the other side of me. “Which means doing something for yourself is ten times harder than it would be for anyone else. So, we understand if this is difficult for you.”
“It doesn’t help that the guy you’re going out with isn’t your average guy,” Bayler quipped. “You’re allowed to freak out over having dinner with the Sexiest Man Alive.”
Harper handed me the only demi bra I owned. It was lacy and nude, and it made me feel sexy the way it looked against my naturally tan skin. “You know what else you are?”
I switched out bras and they cheered when I tossed the Hanes on the floor. “What’s that?”
“You’re a MILF,” she said confidently. “And I don’t mean that in the sexual terms. I mean, you’re a mom I’d like to follow. You are an independent woman who doesn’t need a man, but you deserve a good one. You are smart. You are caring. And, girl, you are hot! So, you show off those hips that gave birth to your beautiful little boy. You hold your head high because you’re just as sexy as Max, if not more than. Please don’t let his notoriety scare you. You can do this. We’ll let you get dressed and see what you think of your outfit, and if you’re not comfortable, we’ll go back to the drawing board. It’s that simple.”
“Okay,” I said, my smile widening. I opened my arms and we shared a group hug. “Thanks, girls.”
Bayler reached out and cupped my boobs appreciatively. “At least now we can tell you have two boobs, so that’s good.”
Laughter ensued amongst us as Harper swatted her sister’s hands away from me and waved all of them out of my room. “Come on, guys, let’s let Whitley get dressed.”
After they left, I grabbed the cami and pulled it on over my head. Then I took the carved Nike tee and eyed it apprehensively. They’d cut the collar much wider, and I worried it might look sloppier on me than it usually did. But I slid it over my head regardless and stood in front of my mirror. The material fell perfectly down my left arm, baring my shoulder and the pink strap of my cami. They’d also cut a slit up the right side that I tied into a knot, causing the shirt to tighten along my waistline. The outfit instantly gave me more curves and confidence than I had before. The black leggings slimmed and covered the cellulite in my thighs, the pink camisole was the feminine touch I needed, and the knotted tee looked effortlessly sexy.
Exactly how I wanted to appear.
This was why Harper was the designer.
Now, for hair and makeup.
Chapter Eight
The girls left a few minutes before Manny called to say he had the car waiting for me downstairs. Nerves kicked in as I walked through the lobby of my apartment building. Through the windows, I could see Max’s black SUV parked next to the curb. Manny was standing outside the rear passenger door, waiting for my arrival. After navigating through this city for years on foot, it felt awkward getting into a vehicle. I’d dodged many run-ins with crazy drivers throughout my years. So, while driving might be a blessing for people like Max, it always made me feel like we were seconds away from T-boning another vehicle. Some people feared flying; I feared riding in vehicles in NYC. Even the subway felt safer, as long as you didn’t look directly at the crazies talking to themselves.
The summer heat greeted me as I stepped outside and smiled at Manny. “Hey, Manny.”
“Miss Gonzalez,” he said, nodding as he opened the door.
I climbed into the backseat and thanked him before he shut the door behind me. He maneuvered around the vehicle and got back into the driver’s seat. We both buckled up, and he steered us into traffic. The awkwardness crept in as I sat in the backseat, but that’s how one was chauffeured when they had a driver. Sitting in the back was normal when taking a cab driven by a stranger—not so normal when it was my date’s driver whom I’d already met.
“So,” I stated nervously, tapping my fingers along the armrest on the door’s interior. “How long have you worked for Max?”
“A few months,” Manny said, eyeing traffic cautiously.
“Not long then.” I nodded and tried to think up more questions to make the ride less awkward. “In the past few months, has he done this a lot?”
Manny’s brows furrowed. “Done what a lot?”
I shrugged my shoulders and gazed through the tinted windows at people walking on the sidewalk. “You know … Had you pick up a woman to bring over to his place for dinner?”
Manny chuckled softly. “No, Max has never asked me to do this before.”
“Really?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yeah,” he stated, smiling back at me over his shoulder as we idled at a red light.
A little part of me felt bad for asking Max’s driver about him, but what else were we supposed to talk about? The weather? It was summer and hot. The end.
Resting back into my seat, I relaxed, knowing our impending date wasn’t one of Max’s signature moves he pulled on women. I changed the subject to Manny, and asked the one question I’d always wondered when I thought of celebrities being chauffeured around. “What do you do while we’re on our date? Do you just sit at the curb in this nice vehicle all night? Are you allowed to go home? Or do you just drive around and waste gas until you get the bat signal from Bruce Wayne to come pick me up and take me home?”
Manny laughed hard and shook his head, completely amused but never once taking his eyes off the road.
“Tonight, I’ll go home. I live a few blocks away from Max. But it usually depends on what Max is doing. If we know a time limit and it doesn’t require more security, I’m free to do whatever until he contacts me.”
“Interesting.”
Manny pulled over to the curb and I gazed up at the brick building. The exterior wasn’t the sleek, expensive high rise that I’d imagined Max living in. In fact, it was a short drive here—just past Washington Square Park to the Village—that only reiterated how easily I could have walked it.
Manny could’ve had the night off.
“I could have walked,” I stated firmly, exiting the truck. “It probably took us longer to drive here, with the lights and traffic, than it would have for me to walk it.”
The smile on Manny’s face grew. “I don’t get paid to argue with the boss.”
“Well, I can,” I quipped, sliding my purse up onto my shoulder. “And he is definitely going to be hearing about this.”
“He’s up on the top floor,” he offered. “Apartment twenty-three.”
“Of course, he is,” I said sarcastically as I stared up at the brick, anxiously delaying my alone time with Max. “Is it a bachelor pad? Please tell me it’s not a bachelor pad.”
“No,” Manny mused. “Max is actually the only tenant who doesn’t have any children. It’s a family building, and he’s very respectful of that. It’s why he chose to live here.”
I gazed back at Manny and smiled, grateful for his company and insight. “Thank you, Manny. You’ve been very helpful this evening.”
“Just doing my job, Miss Gonzalez.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please, call me Whitley.”
He nodded and then led me to the building and held the door open for me. “Have a great evening, Whitley.”
***
By the time I got up to the top floor, I already knew which apartment was Max’s without looking at the numbers. Max had his door already propped opened, his powerful body leaning against his doorjamb, waiting for my arrival. Some of my nerves lessened at the sight of his own relaxed apparel. Black basketball shorts hung from his hips, while a black, sleeveless hoodie showed off his ripped arms. He appeared laid-back and confident, but when didn’t he? A sexy smile lingered on his lips, and the excited gleam in his eyes welcomed me before any words exited his perfect mouth. His gaze trailed down the length of my body, taking in my own comfortable outfit.