Page 67 of Let's Kiss and Tell

“So.” I force myself to change the subject. “What are you wearing to the wedding?”

“Probably some kind of suit,” Marsh says, unfazed by the new topic.

“Must be nice being a guy.”

“You don’t have to buy anything new,” he says. “I’m sure whatever you already have is perfect. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“See, but I have this really bad habit where I actually want an excuse to go shopping, Marsh.”

“Noted,” he says. “Okay, well, I’m buying it.”

I scoff. “Why would you buy it?”

“Because it’s for the wedding that I invited you to,” he says like it’s a logical answer.

I stand there, trying to understand his logic. “So?”

“So,I don’t want you to have to buy anything on my behalf.”

Oh, he’s dead serious.

“Okay, Richard Gere.” I laugh as we continue to walk down the cobblestone pathway. “You’re not buying me clothes.”

“I’m only slightly offended you just called me Richard Gere,” he says. “Pretty Womanis a classic.”

“I just want your opinion, but this dress is for me. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Marsh nods as we turn in to a store that catches my eye.

I walk toward the display of the new arrivals and sift through the different summer dresses. When it comes to fashion trends, this wedding couldn’t have come at a better time. I pull a few dresses off the rack and throw them over my arm. I notice Marsh trailing behind me, eyeing the other clothes in the store.

I turn to him. “What else have you been working on?”

“Another murder case,” Marsh says, now somber. “A father in South LA.”

“Oh,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

Marsh dismissively shakes his head. “It’s all part of the job.”

The news department atThe Journalis vast. They cover topics from politics to technology, global news, sports, business, education, climate—the list goes on. Like myself, most writers have an expertise, a specific column they work on. What I’ve learnedabout Marsh through conversation and reading his bylines is that he covers all topics, and usually the ones that have the most visibility. A store employee approaches me to start a fitting room, and I hand over my selection of dresses to her and wave for Marsh to follow us.

“I’ll be a second, okay?” I touch the side of Marsh’s arm and hold my breath at the feeling of his biceps.

“Sounds good.” He takes a seat.

As I scan the dresses in front of me, I’m not sure why I feel nervous. It’s just Marsh. Marsh is a co-worker, who’s now my friend. The way he looked at me at the club and the chemistry we share is completely inconsequential. Last night is behind us.

I choose the first dress, an ankle-length silk slip dress with thin straps. It’s a soft olive color with golden flowers all around it. The dress falls effortlessly on me and feels just like butter. I toss my hair behind my shoulders and adore how it complements my tan skin.

I take a deep breath in and open the curtain, stepping out into the light.

Marsh is comfortably leaning back on the love seat, but when he sees me, there’s a look on his face very similar to the one from last night.

“Wow,” is all he says.

“You like it?” I spin around so he can see the back. I catch a sharp inhale through his nose.

“I mean, I hope thewowdidn’t sound like I didn’t like it?”