Page 29 of Keep Me Close
Mannequins are spaced deliberately, dressed in pieces that feel less like trends and more like statements with silk, satin, clean lines, and eye-catching colors.
Inside, it’s quiet in a way that feels intentional. Plush rugs muffle our steps as subtle music hums in the background. Racks of stunning dresses are arranged by color instead of size, each piece looking expensive without announcing it.
It’s the kind of place where no one rushes you or looks twice even if you’re a recognizable face.
In LA, stores like this always come with expectations. The salespeople are haughty or fake-sweet, depending on how much your charge card can handle. Stylists hover. Assistants carry armfuls of curated options no one asked for, offering compliments that feel more like strategy. And for me at least, there was always this sense that shopping wasn’t really about what I wanted. It was about image. Content. Labels. What would photograph best and get talked about the most.
Even though I’ve only just stepped through the door, this boutique already feels different.
Kia waves to the woman behind the counter. “Hi, Melissa. This is Cheyenne. She needs a dress for the event on Saturday.”
That’s it. I’m not introduced as that reality star from the show everyone loves to hate on or Britt Benson’s sister.
Just Cheyenne.
It shouldn’t matter, but it does.
We browse for a while. The racks are filled with jewel tones and sleek silhouettes. I run my fingers over the fabrics, feeling slightly out of my depth without a stylist waiting nearby. And yet, it’s unexpectedly freeing. I can choose what I want, and no one is going to nudge me in a different direction.
The bell over the door jingles and two women breeze in.
“Tell me we’re not late,” the blonde says.
Kia grins. “Nope, right on time.”
She hugs Kia before turning to me with a friendly smile. “Hi, you must be Cheyenne. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Lilah.” She points to a brunette. “And that’s Rina.”
I glance between them. “It’s nice to meet both of you.”
Lilah is all warmth, bright eyes, and easy friendliness.
Rina is sharper, although not standoffish. Just observant in a way that makes me feel like she notices everything and files it away for later. She studies me for a second longer, as if trying to take me in. I can’t help but brace, wondering what she sees.
“Okay. I get it now,” she says with a smirk.
“Get what?” I ask, thrown off by the comment.
“One of the team owners mentioned that Knox was playing like a man possessed at practice. And I’m pretty sure I’m staring at the reason for it.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I shake my head with a forced laugh. “I doubt that had anything to do with me.”
The idea that Rina could be right sends a shiver racing down my spine.
Lilah chuckles before elbowing her friend. “Ignore her, please.”
“I’m not wrong,” Rina says matter-of-factly.
The conversation thankfully ends there as Lilah pulls a dress from the rack and hands it to me. “This is gorgeous. You definitely need to try this one. With your coloring, it would be perfect.”
It’s a deep emerald-green silk that’s both chic and elegant. Maybe a little bolder than what I would’ve chosen on my own.
“Agreed. That definitely has your name written all over it,” Kia adds.
“I don’t know,” I hedge. “It’s a little—”
“Perfect,” Rina interrupts. “Go try it on. You can thank us later.”
With a huffed out laugh, I retreat to the dressing room before I can think better of it. The fabric glides over my skin, skimming my curves without clinging, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage.
