What was I doing? I was practically sexting with the man. Mortified, I reached for the button to turn my phone off when his next text came in.
DRAKE: Like? ;)
LUCY: Shoes.
There, that will fix that.
DRAKE: Is that all?
LUCY: No.
My hand flew over my mouth, even though I wasn’t actually speaking.
DRAKE: Hmm, is it sexy? Please say it’s sexy.
LUCY: Maybe.
DRAKE: I can’t wait to see it.
LUCY: How do you know you will?
DRAKE: Will I?
LUCY: Maybe.
DRAKE: I can work with that.
A giggle escaped me. Maybe Gretchen had the right idea. Being naughty was actually fun.
LUCY: Thanks again. I’m tired and heading to bed to read.
DRAKE: Sleep well.
LUCY: Thank you. Sweet dreams.
DRAKE: You can count on it.
I ate a quick bite and soon afterward headed to bed. Once I’d changed and snuggled into my bed, I grabbed my Kindle, but didn’t turn it on right away. Instead, I thought of everything that had changed since Drake walked into my classroom. Could I actually have found someone for me?
My thoughts drifted to my high school boyfriend, Greg. I’d thought I was in love with him, and maybe I was. We were so young, but he made me happy, and he was so smart. He didn’t go to the same school I did, but when we met, something inside me clicked, much like with Drake.
But Greg and I didn’t last. Mistakes were made, and there was no way to recover from them. No way to turn back the clock to tell him I was sorry.
? ? ?
Saturday night was finally here. Tiny beads of sweat trickled down my spine as I stared at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. I turned to the side and craned my neck to be sure I looked good from every angle.
I caught a glimpse of the picture I had on my dresser of me and Mason from my college graduation. I was half-tempted to call him earlier to get a male opinion before I saw Drake, but he’d tell me I looked great, even if I only looked mediocre.
I strolled toward the picture of Mason and me, thrilling a little to the click the heels of my stilettos made with each step I took across the hardwood floor. I picked up the silver frame, a graduation gift from Mason, and ran my fingertips over the inscription: I’m so proud of you. Love, Mason.
Proud. He was proud of me that day, and truth be told, so was I.
Back to the mirror I went for one last glimpse, but before I did, I grabbed my phone to take a picture of my reflection. I stared at the small screen and couldn’t believe it was me. I’d actually taken time for myself today.
My first stop had been the spa, where I was waxed and had makeup professionally applied. Happily, the esthetician didn’t make me look like a clown. Granted, I was a bit nervous when the foundation she applied came out of a mini-paint sprayer, but I had to admit the end result was amazing. Once the foundation was done, she accentuated my brown eyes beautifully, first creating a gentle eyebrow arch, and then applying the right amount of makeup.
Then I went to the salon and had my hair swept up in a French twist. It wasn’t tight or messy, but fun, and with the few stray curls she left framing my face, it was sexy.
I quickly shot a text to Mason and attached the picture. Just as I expected, he responded that I was gorgeous. All I could do was smile at his reply.
Naturally, I thanked him, but I honestly didn’t expect him to say anything different. But my vision blurred with unshed tears when he sent another text, telling me he loved me and that he was happy I was going out.
I was neither a hermit nor a party girl, so I understood why he said what he did. Once I thought about it, I realized I was happy too.