The Boyfriend List

by Novelle, R. S.

  “I’m pretty sure I can guess her size.” His voice seemed confident enough to reassure Ian. “But, now I have to ask, before I start pulling items off their shelves again.”

  Ian’s eyebrows lifted in concern. “Yes?”

  “Are you sure you can afford this now? Because your little girlfriend ran out all scared when she saw the total.”

  Ian smirked with confidence. This was going to be easier than he’d thought. Digging his slim wallet out of his back pocket, he removed his black credit card and offered it to the clerk, whose eyes had lit up like diamonds at the sight of it. “Find me everything she had, in the sizes that she needed, and I’ll bring her back here after our date is over.”

  “You’ve got it.” And taking the card, the clerk quickly began moving around the store before Ian had time to change his mind.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Saturday

  Clad in her fluffy, purple robe, Reagan stepped in front of the steamy mirror. She swiped at the glass, brushing away some of the condensation so she could thoroughly analyze her reflection as she waited for the tub to finish filling with water.

  At least she didn’t look as tired as she had yesterday, she considered as she flashed herself a quick smile. She looked drained, yes, anyone would after the powerhouse session of paper writing she’d endured to keep her grades intact. But it was nothing that a nice bath, a strong cup of coffee and a shot of something sweet and strong later on couldn’t fix. If the party had been yesterday though? Well, that would’ve taken a miracle to repair, and she knew it.

  Turning off the faucet, she removed her robe and laid it gently on the counter before dipping her toe to the water to test the temperature. But before she could settle in and relax, there was a knock at the front door. She wanted to ignore it, but it came a second time.

  “Petra!” She yelled. “I’m not dressed yet. Can you get that?” Though she knew exactly what her friend’s response would be.

  “No way.” Petra called from the other side of the thin wall, as predicted. “I’m the birthday girl.”

  The knock came yet again, and Reagan released a resolved groan, indicating her feelings on delaying her relaxation. Wrapping herself back up in the robe and tightly pulling the belt around her waist, she marched through the living room. “I’m coming! Hold on!” She called.

  Lifting herself high up on her toes, she looked through the peephole, to see who the persistent person was, but quickly found it had been covered and she couldn’t see anything of the hallway at all. “That’s strange.” She muttered under her breath.

  Flinging the door wide open, a suspicious look on her face, Reagan was shocked to find the hallway was empty. She looked up and down, and even peeked over the banister as much as she could from standing in her doorway, but the only thing that was there was a pink envelope with her name scrawled over the front. “It’s not my birthday, what’s this?”

  Figuring a few more steps out in her bathrobe wouldn’t hurt, Reagan quickly grabbed the envelope and scooted back inside. Ripping it open, she found a pink index card that had been scribbled over in black ink with careful handwriting.

  Look behind your door.

  Reagan scrunched her forehead in confusion, but she couldn’t say she wasn’t enjoying the game. Behind my door? Opening the front door again, careful that her robe was pulled tightly over her chest, she stepped around and looked at the other side of the panel. And there, propped up just out of sight, was a hot pink dress box that had been tied with a large, black satin bow. Another envelope had been attached to the box, again with her name scrawled across the outside.

  “Oh my god.” She squealed excitedly. And snatching it up, she quickly pulled the box into the apartment and ripped off the note.

  Reagan- I prefer to see you in a towel, but thought this would be more appropriate for tonight. Love, Ian

  Giggling to herself, she pressed the note against her chest before settling on the couch and drawing the box into her lap. Wasting no time with untying the bow and lifting off the cover, she gently pulled back the black and pink striped tissue paper. And then it hit her. Surprised recognition filled every inch of her face. It was the dress from the boutique. And not just the dress - the shoes, the earrings, the clutch...it was all there. Every piece she’d lusted over and had left behind.

  When she finally found her voice again, she squealed loudly with excitement. How could he possibly have remembered? Better yet, how could he possibly have afforded it? Clearly there were several things about Ian she still had left to learn. But in the meantime, she couldn’t help but to think it was too good to be true. She looked at the size of the dress on the inside label just to make sure, and somehow he’d managed to guess correctly. Perfect. It was absolutely perfect.

  If this was any indication of how the night was going to go, Reagan thought it was safe to assume it would be one of the best she’d ever had.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The way the crowd of party attendees screamed as Petra’s entourage stepped from the jet-black Cadillac stretch limo made it seem as though a celebrity had just arrived. And maybe she had, Reagan decided as she watched her friend soak up the attention. She certainly seemed to be in her element tonight. Some people were just born for the spotlight, and some people, well, Regan considered, some people didn’t need it.

  As hired photographers flashed their cameras everywhere, Petra clutched Reagan’s hand, a smile as bright as the jewels in her tiara lit up her face as the girls posed on the red carpet in front of the step and repeat that served to announce the occasion, should anyone happen to forget... Reagan thrust her shoulders back, exuding confidence as she changed poses. Maybe she could get used to this after all.

  “Next year we’re going to Cabo.” Petra winked as she whispered to her crew, who was passing between the Armani clad bouncers. Wherever in the world they were, Reagan felt confident it would always be a night to remember. And this was certainly no exception to the rule.

  The moment Petra had slipped through the club doors, and was given enough time to soak in the splendor of what the club had been transformed into, she raced off to her dressing room to change into outfit number two of the evening. Reagan had to admit as she strolled around, taking it all in, that she was sort of enjoying the quiet in between. Everything around her was sparkling and beautiful, modern and sleek. Here, she was a world away from regular college life and all the complications it had imposed recently. Here, she could be a different person, spontaneous and glamorous, and let the night unfold as it should.

  But the quiet wouldn’t last long. Soon, the doors had opened and the floodgates released. Excited groups of people pushed into the space, mesmerized by the transition of a room they’d all been to hundreds of times before. And with the bodies came pulses of music as the DJ started to play a mix formulated to keep the energy up and the emotions light. With the beats high and the bass low, there wasn’t room any longer to think, but Reagan could feel her body reacting, moving, swaying – ready to enjoy every last carefree second of whatever the night handed her.

  “If I could have everyone’s attention please.” As the music lowered, the noise of the crowd hushed to allow the DJ to speak. “It’s time for our very special birthday girl, Miss Petra, to come up on stage.”

  Reagan turned, smiling toward the front of the room. But from out of nowhere, she felt a hand grab her arm. “I’m not going up there without my best friend.” Petra was smiling as she spoke, and had begun to pull Reagan through the crowd before she’d even realized what had happened. Despite her half-hearted objections, she found herself climbing the platform, looking out into a sea of hundreds of eyes staring back at her. It would’ve been enough to intimidate anyone who wasn’t a regular to such occasions, but for Reagan, it was proving to be a true test of her confidence.

  Thankfully, two costumed performers appeared from the back to roll out a three-tiered cake – her second cake - that looked more like a piece of abstract art than something actua
lly edible. The top was lit with sparklers and a huge twenty-one. With the crowd distracted, Reagan slinked backward, behind a gushing Petra as the DJ led the crowd in singing Happy Birthday. Maybe this center of attention thing would take some getting used to after all, Reagan decided as she applauded her friend who’d just blown out her enormous candles.

  “I’d like to thank everyone for coming out tonight to help me celebrate my birthday.” Petra had begun, and the crowd cheered again. “You only turn twenty-one once so you might as well do it right!”

  But despite Reagan’s best intentions to listen intently to her friend’s birthday speech, everything around her – all the noise, the music, the applause – suddenly faded out into silence the moment Ian stepped into the club. Dressed in a stylish variation of black-tie formal, he took in the festivities with all the calm casualness of someone who should own the place. And it was a really, really good look on him, she decided.

  He caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye, and after an expression of surprise passed over his face, he smiled and winked with a fluid, easy movement that had her heart doing flip-flops in her chest. Breathe Reagan, she reminded herself, breathe, though the instructions didn’t seem to be working very well and she wondered if she looked as stiff and mesmerized as she felt.

  “This has been the best birthday ever!” Reagan tuned back in just as Petra was finishing up. “And I’m so happy you’re all a part of it. Have fun tonight!” The crowd erupted in applause as she handed the microphone back to the DJ.

  Prancing over to where Reagan was standing as the dancers began cutting the cake to hand out to an anxious crowd, Petra leaned closer to her friend, following her gaze. “Are you a betting girl tonight?” She was speaking low, her expression mysterious as though she had a secret to tell.

  “Maybe.” Reagan finally broke her stare with Ian to pass a quizzical glance to her friend. “Why?”

  “Because I’d bet you never thought Ian Scott could look that good in a tux.” Then she waved casually to Ian and smiled when he began moving in their direction through the gyrating bodies who’d packed onto the floor. “You’re welcome.” She exclaimed knowingly before dashing off to change into her third outfit.

  Thankfully, it wouldn’t be long that Reagan was left alone on stage. Soon Ian was standing in front of her, leaning his elbow casually on the edge. “How’d she get you up there?” He teased.

  “Petra has her ways.”

  Then he winked at her – god, she’d forgotten how to breathe again – and motioned for her to come down and join him. As she descended the stairs, she began to wonder to herself how she could’ve ever denied for so long that she was completely and totally in love with him. She’d known she was stubborn, but damn this had to set some sort of record. And then he was next to her, leaning in casually with that charming smile she’d always thought she’d been immune to alighting his lips, melting her resolve, making her wonder...

  “Hi.” The depth of his voice filled her, vibrated through her body... or maybe that was the music coming through the speakers. It was hard to tell, but the effect was profound either way.

  “Hi yourself.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as shaky as her legs felt right now. “I see she got you in a suit.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s hard to say no to a woman who threatens your manhood if you ruin any second of her fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “I guess so.” Reagan knew Petra well enough to know she’d probably put it exactly in those terms.

  “I like your dress.” He noted playfully. “New?”

  But Reagan only smiled coyly. “A present left at my door today.”

  “Really?” He nodded as though he knew nothing. “Whoever left it must have good taste. I like it.”

  “I’ll let them know.” She laughed.

  Then Ian leaned in closer to whisper something to her, his lips hovering just an inch from her ear. “You look beautiful. Want to dance?”

  “Sure.” Reagan smiled, and let him lead her to a different spot on the floor.

  Once he’d settled on the location, he twirled her, spinning her playfully before pulling her against his body. With hips pressed tightly together until the space between them had completely closed, Ian moved one hand over her waist, across her back and let it linger there just above the rise of her hips. The rhythm of the music guided their movement, and soon they were swaying and shaking as one. The guy had moves, she’d definitely give him that. Free from restrictions, free from thought, Reagan let her body loose, dipping her head back. With her hair wild around her, she’d never felt so sexy, so perfectly beautiful as she had in this moment. And by the expression in his eyes, Ian seemed to be enjoying this other side of her.

  Leaning closer, he brushed her cheek with a soft kiss, then offered one to her lips, which she quickly matched. As the kiss went deeper, their bodies stopped moving, so caught up were they in the moment together.

  “Awww...” Awoken from her trance, Reagan’s head immediately snapped back to find Petra gushing as she walked up to greet them. Clearly, she’d already had a few shots in her dressing room. “You two are so cute together.”

  Reluctantly releasing Reagan, Ian offered his hostess a friendly hug. “Happy birthday, Petra.”

  “Thank you. Now be a love and go get me and your new girlfriend here something to drink so we can talk about you.”

  But before he moved, he looked to Reagan for confirmation that she wanted something, a gesture she found charming. “Sure.” If nothing else, it might calm her nerves a little.

  “Then I’ll be right back.” He promised before kissing Reagan’s cheek and disappearing into the crowd.

  Waiting until he was successfully out of hearing distance, Petra jumped with excitement.

  “It’s about time!” She exclaimed. “You two are hot together!”

  Reagan felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, and was once again thankful for the dim lighting around her.

  When Ian held up his fingers to the bartender, indicating the number of glasses he wanted filled with whatever the intoxicating mixture was Petra had decided on for her open bar, he noticed those fingers were shaking. However slightly. But they were still shaking, and he hoped no one else could tell. He couldn’t remember the last time a girl had him worked up like this. Relax, he told himself as he accepted the tall glasses and tried to balance the three.

  Taking a deep breath, he turned to walk away. But he’d failed to notice the figure who’d slinked up next to him until it was too late. Nearly knocking her over in the process – drinks and all –it took a little luck and a lot of quick reflexes to save him from the possible disaster.

  “Sorry.” He stammered quickly.

  But the figure didn’t seem to mind the close contact. In fact, she just drew closer to him, making it nearly impossible for him to move from that spot. “She must be one special girl to get you into a suit.” She teasingly purred.

  It took him a moment to place the figure with the voice, and then the voice with the name. He hadn’t thought about her, let alone spoken to her, in nearly a week. And hadn’t really cared to give her too much attention prior to that. She’d just been a distraction, something he thought might help him get his mind off Reagan. It hadn’t worked.

  “Isabella?” He said after several quiet seconds. Of course it was, he finally decided, she oozed sexuality with every word and gesture. It was an act she’d spend a lot of time refining, and if he were being honest, it was beginning to get played out.

  She took an assertive step forward, and he noticed she was taller today, thanks to the six-inch heels that wound their way up her ankles. Nearly as tall as him now, it was easier to tell that she’d smudged a little too much makeup around her eyes, and that those eyes were considerably glazed already with the combination of alcohol and who knows what else. The strength of her perfume, a less than subtle aroma that was more cheap than seductive, encircled him and nearly made him nauseous

  “You remembered. I�
�m flattered.”

  “It’s good to see you again.” It was a blatant lie. He was already dreading the almost inevitable introduction to Reagan. “How do you know Petra?”

  “I don’t, actually.” She shrugged casually and sauntered up a little closer, if closer was at all possible. “I’m an old,” Pausing, she seemed to be in search for a word full of implication, “pal, you could say, of Justin, who I guess knows Petra somehow. When I mentioned I had no plans for the night, he naturally invited me to tag along.”

  And just like that, a dark cloud had settled over the evening.

  “Naturally.” Ian remarked dryly, suddenly on edge. He threw a quick glance in Reagan’s direction, and was glad to see she was happily distracted in excited conversation. “Justin’s here too?” It was all he could do to spit the name from his dry tongue. Eyes clouded with anger scanned the room, hoping to see him before Reagan did.

  Isabella nodded in silent confirmation, her eyes studying him with uncertainty.

  “Is that how you got my number?” He finally turned back to her. “Because I don’t remember ever giving it to you.”

  “I have all kinds of connections, Ian.” She remarked slyly as she reached across his torso to accept another drink from the bartender. Their faces passed closely in what he was sure she’d meant to be a sign of invitation, but the overwhelming smell of alcohol on her breath only defeated her purposes.

  “Apparently.” As his mood clouded more with every second he remained in her presence, he knew it was time to get back to Reagan. But there was something that’d just occurred to him, something tugging at his gut that he needed to clarify first. “How long have you known Justin exactly?”

  Isabella took a sip of her drink while she considered, “About two weeks. We spent some time together over spring break.” There was a slight slur around the edge of her words now.