The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller (17 page)

“Wow, that’s pretty Quinn. Are you wearing that tonight?” I ask, reaching forward with outstretched fingers grazing the sheer fabric of the top layer.

“No,” she giggles, “You are!”

“What?” I screech as the gown lands in my lap.

Undaunted, Quinn turns and approaches her closet, snagging another gorgeous dress. She slides the hanger over her head before moving in front of the mirror, fanning out the skirt as her eyes meet mine in the reflection.

I avoid her gaze and focus on her dress. Pink and sparkly. Big surprise.

“You. Are. Wearing. That. Dress.” She emphasizes each word as I move my eyes downward and glare with disdain at the offending garment in my lap.

“Um, no.” Taking the hanger in my hand, I rise and turn to set it on her bed, carefully smoothing it out with both hands.

“Aubrey Miller! It is your birthday! And you are wearing a goddamn dress if I have to wrestle you to the floor, pin you down, and force you into it!” She pivots around with the dress still draped across her body and marches to her bed, knocking me aside as she grabs it and forces it into my chest, her fist colliding with my shoulder.

Mouth open and offended, I rub my now aching muscle. “Ow,
Bitch
. That hurt.”

“You haven’t
seen
bitch yet. And you don’t want to. I suggest you go put that dress
on
now
, and then I will touch up your makeup.” She knocks my already aching shoulder with hers and I give her a dirty look, but it soon disappears as she peers at me and smiles softly. “You look so beautiful, Aubrey. You really do. I’m so proud of you.”

My throat practically squeezes shut and I swallow deeply as tears surface.

Damn you alcohol.

Her grin widens. “Plus, I really, really,
really
want to see Kaeleb’s face! Come on, Aubrey! You have to or I will officially take back my Kick Ass Friend nomination.” With that, her face falls serious, but the excitement and anticipation of seeing Kaeleb’s reaction still twinkles in her eyes.

Looking at Quinn’s half-drunk, half-pleading expression, I can’t do a damn thing but smile back at her. Again, I blame it on the alcohol and the fact that I’m also curious as to what Mr. McMadden will think of my make-over.

My heart rate picks up, and before I know it the hanger is hooked over my finger and I’m heading to my room with a ridiculous smile on my face as I bounce off the balls of my feet. Kinda like how Quinn does constantly.

Shutting myself in my room, I take a deep breath and drape her gown across my bed before turning to glance in the mirror of my dresser. My reflection isn’t much different than when I left the salon, with the exception of makeup applied to my face. My hair is still very blonde, and my cheeks are rosy and warm. Reaching up, I push my bangs away from where they shadow my eyes, surprised at the life that emanates from them—life that I never thought I would find the courage to allow myself to experience.

Yet, here I am.

My eyes drift to the left
and land on the picture frame on top of my dresser. I pick up the photograph of Kaeleb, Quinn and myself, and my mind reels when I think of how much my life has changed over the last year.

I remember the day the picture was taken like it was yesterday. Blackened hair with blue ends, those freaking cat-eye contacts, blood red lipstick with my eyes caked in black putty-like shadow, and my face expressionless with the refusal to let myself smile.

My mouth falls as I set the picture aside, saddened by the person captured in the image. I’ve denied myself so many experiences, so many innate emotions and connections, so many things that constitute…life. So much energy wasted fending off every single thing that was needed to nourish and sustain my soul.

Hope drowns out the sorrow with one very important conclusion drawn as I look back into the mirror.

I was dead.

But now, I am very much alive.

My eyes rake over the navy dress on the bed and I find myself smiling again because I know for certain that Kaeleb McMadden is the reason. He saved me.

And he’s on his way over here.

So I need to get dressed.

Shimmying out of my cargos and yanking my T-shirt over my head, I jet over to the bed and grab the dress, only to pause in question.

Does this go over my head? Or do I step into it? And what about my underwear? And bra? What about shoes?

“Quinn!” I screech. “Help!”

I’m approaching full panic mode when she finally decides to make her appearance.

“You okay in there?” she asks through the door.

“No, I’m definitely
not
okay. How the hell do I get this thing on, and more importantly, what do I wear under it?” Jesus, who knew being normal would be so difficult.

“Are you decent?” The knob on the door turns, and I quickly snake a towel off the floor to cover my pitiful excuse for a bra and panty set.

Quinn enters my room with a freshly filled glass of champagne…laughing at me. But not before handing me a box wrapped in yellow birthday paper with little party hats and slices of cake all over it, topped with the biggest bow I’ve ever seen. Setting the flute on my bedside table, she yells, “Happy birthday…again!”

“Quinn, the salon was more than enough. I can’t take this from you.” I shake my head and press the present into her pink terrycloth robe, only to have her push the gift back in my direction.

“You can and you will. Open it.” Sighing outright to note my protest, I tighten the towel around my chest and then take a seat on the bed next to the dress. The bow unfolds slowly as I pull one of the edges and I lay the ribbon beside me before peeling the paper off the box. The solid pink lid and the alternating pink and white stripes of the box underneath it tell me all I need to know.

Glancing back at her, I give her a shy smile before looking back down and removing the lid. Sitting right on top is a simple cream-colored bra with matching lace lining the edges. I hold it up by the straps, eyeing its beauty. I’ve never had anything so…feminine.

“What about the straps?” I inquire, still in awe that my friend was able to get my sizing correct without asking me. Which most likely means she raided my boring array of white cotton everything.

“You can take them off, dope. Look.”

She takes the bra from my hand and removes the straps, before confirming my suspicions when she strides over to my undie drawer and drops them in. I narrow my eyes in her direction, then lower my stare to the box on my lap. Coordinating panties lie on top of the white tissue paper, and when I pull them out, I’m surprised to find there’s no back to them. Just a half-inch wide piece of fabric.

My eyebrow rises when she giggles. “Time to try something new, Aubrey. They’re more comfortable than you think. You get used to them,” she adds, grabbing the champagne off the table and handing it to me before stepping toward my doorway.

“Put them both on
under
the dress. Then step
into
the dress.” Her laughter is unconcealed. “Pull it over your hips, and then call me when you’re ready. I’ll zip ya in.”

She blows me a kiss and disappears before I even have time to thank her.

I sit in silence for a while, deliberating, before deciding that Quinn is right. It’s time to try something new.

So after hooking the bra over my chest and situating myself into the panties, I step into the dress and slide it over my hips as instructed, clamping the top underneath my arms before calling her once again.

After taking another sip of champagne, I fluff and finger through my hair while I wait. She finally returns with a suitcase full of make-up and her own flute of bubbly.

After tossing the make-up on my bed, she quickly steps behind me and zips me in before I turn to face her.

She’s fully dressed herself, and I take in her appearance with appreciation. She’s absolutely stunning.

Her make-up is still the same as earlier, her long, blonde hair twisted in slightly-tousled, relaxed curls, and the light pink dress from before is actually on her body instead of the hanger around her neck. It flows beautifully, the satin hitting her knees as she walks over to my bed.

It’s no wonder my best friend is the reigning Miss Collegiate America. My face falls as my heart breaks—she can’t see what everyone else does, but inside and out, she’s truly the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.

Taking a seat on my bed, she curls her feet underneath her legs and points to the space in front of her. “Sit.”

Schooling my features, I do as I’m told and brush the hair off my shoulders as I take in a relaxing breath. She digs through the mountain of cosmetics in front of me, setting aside an eye shadow palette along with a tube of mascara and lip gloss. She pushes the box aside and scoots closer to me.

“Close your eyes. Chin up. Don’t move.”

“Okay,” I breathe, suddenly nervous because I’ve just seen my alarm clock.

Kaeleb will be here in less than five minutes.

Breathing anxiously, I shut my eyes and try not to blink when she dabs shadow along the top and bottom of my lids. Her finger brushes lightly against them before she applies more in the crease of my eye. After smudging it a bit, she exhales. “Okay. Open.”

My eyes open and flutter a bit before settling on her smile. “Gorgeous,” she says before tilting my head back. “Now, don’t blink.” A mascara wand makes its way to my face, and not long after, both sets of lashes are coated with what must be at least the third coat of the day.

“Perfect.” She pumps the lip gloss a couple of times before giving my lips a healthy application, then sits back and appraises her work.

A very pleased smile crosses her face as she nods. “You. Look. GORGEOUS!” she shouts as she hands me a mirror. “Kaeleb is going to shit himself! I can’t wait!” She jumps off the bed and grabs her champagne.

As I examine myself, I have to agree. She did a beautiful job. My eyes look sultry but natural with their shimmery, light-brown shadow, and the deeper brown at the corners make them pop a brighter blue than I ever remember them being. My lips shine with a nude gloss just like hers, and they lift into a relieved smile before I set the mirror aside and accept the champagne she offers.

“Thank you so much, Quinn. This day has been…unbelievable. And I owe it all to you. You have no idea.” My voice trembles a bit with the admission, because she really has
no idea
what she’s done for me today.

I feel normal.

A normal girl, about to have a normal birthday celebration with her friends, in a normal (albeit spectacular) dress, with normal hair and make-up.

The only thing that’s missing is a pair of normal shoes.

“Shoes! I need shoes!” I exclaim.

“No, you don’t.” Quinn giggles and reaches for the knob of my bedroom door.

“What? Why wouldn’t I need shoes?”

That makes no sense.

She’s drunker than I thought.

That’s it, I’m officially hiding the champagne.

“You’ll see,” she says just as there’s a knock at the front door.

She winks. “Trust me. Just, stay in here. Don’t come out until someone comes to get you.”

After Quinn quietly shuts the door behind her, I remain seated. As the sounds of Kaeleb’s murmur filters into my room, a nervous excitement flitters through my belly and spreads into my chest. My joy takes flight and I breathe in deeply, contentment pumping enthusiastically with each thrumming heartbeat.

Damn, it feels good to be alive

.

I don’t have to wait for long. After a very loud squeal from Quinn in the other room, there’s a knock at my door. My pulse kicks up and I rise from the bed, smoothing out my dress. With a glance in the mirror, I pluck a couple of sections of my new hair with my fingers and set them back into place. “Come in,” I remark, turning in the direction of the door.

The handle turns and as Kaeleb pokes his head around the corner, his eyes find mine. His eyebrows rise as his mouth falls slightly open, and he breaks my gaze as his focus shifts to take in my hair, my exposed neck and the line of my dress. He holds his stare briefly at the crystalline sash lining my waist, and then slowly drifts down to my smoothly-shaven legs and perfectly painted toenails. The left side of his mouth quirks up as he clears his throat, frozen in place. He tears his scrutiny away from my feet to fully step into the room, then turns away from me to shut the door.

I take advantage of the 1.5 seconds his back is turned, and survey him from head to toe. His light-blue button-up is folded to his elbows, displaying the prominence of the flexed muscles along his forearms. As he places both palms on the door and leans into them, his shirt rides up enough for me to see the designs on the back pockets of his dark jeans. They hug his ass perfectly, and for the first time in my life, I want to slide my hands right into those pockets just to feel the hardness of his toned body.

My fingers itch with the need to touch him, but I maintain control while Kaeleb braces against the door, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He stays planted there for a few more seconds until I suddenly begin to feel self-conscious. I run my hands over my hair and dress to make sure everything is as it should be.