Page 36 of Full Court Love
Britt speaks first. “Lucy, were you expecting a package?”
I shake my head. She nods like this just confirms her point.
“Okay, so it’s obviously for one of us but we don’t know who, or it’s someone else’s but we have no clue where to take it. So either way, we should probably open it.”
Britt is the most impatient of the four of us. Kya is more tentative.
“Maybe let’s wait a little bit to see if someone comes looking for it. We don’t want to ruin someone’s Christmas by taking their surprise.”
But AJ is the doer. She leaves the room, returning moments later with scissors. She cuts the ribbon and pulls off the lid of the box. Once inside the wrapping, we find a tiny envelope with one word written on it.
Lucy.
Britt purses her lips, giving me a suspicious look. “I thought you said you weren’t expecting a package.”
I’m as confused as they are. “I’m not.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Got plans tonight?”
The red in my face perfectly matches the red of the bow. “Umm, yes. Jordan is taking me to dinner.”
The collective eye roll that occurs is so synchronous, it looks rehearsed. Britt dives into her high-pitched Lucy impression to mock me. “Oh, I don’t know what this could possibly be. I’m just an innocent little girl with a smoking-hot boyfriend who’s taking me out to dinner tonight. But golly gee, the present could never be for little ol’ me.”
Her Southern accent really drives home my ignorance of the situation. I snatch the card from a laughing Kya as I mutter a weak reply. “He’s not officially my boyfriend.”
I slide the card open and read:
Lucy, I’ve never done something like this before but I wanted to do something special for you. Selfishly, I knew you’d look gorgeous in this dress. The girl at the store seemed to think so as well. Full disclosure—when they found out it was for you, they gave it to me for free as long as you post a picture in it and tag them. I’m pretty sure the girl working there was obsessed with you–not as much as I am, though… obviously. Can’t wait to see you soon.
-Jordan
My roomies are crowded around me, reading the note as well. Once she gets to the end, AJ slumps to the floor. Then she looks up at me, half annoyed, half amused.
“I’m with Britt. How did you not know the package wasfor you? He’s not yourboyfriend–”She emphasizes the word with air quotes. “—but he sure as hell treats you like his girlfriend.”
I shrug. I don’t know what to say to that. He hasn’t officially asked, so it’s not officially official yet. It’s still in the gray area, despite what my feelings are telling me.
“I mean, yeah, I?—”
Britt cuts me off. “Just open the box. I want to know if he has good taste or if he’s corny or just like, wanting you to wear basically nothing. I mean, obviously he’d probably prefer the least amount of clothing possible, but for a public dinner, that might not be on the table.”
I’m holding the box and staring at her impatiently, eyebrows raised. “Are you done?”
She mimes zipping her lips.
I slowly and dramatically remove the tissue paper, tossing it over my shoulder with a flourish. Then I ask for a drum roll–which Kya generously gives me–as I lift the dress out and hold it up.
Britt groans, flopping herself back on the couch. “Great. So, he has good style, too? Why did you have to meet him first? Man, some people have all the luck.”
She’s right. The dress is exactly something I’d pick out. With a simple white knit material, long sleeves, and reaching almost to the floor, it’s gorgeous. I head into my room for a full-body transformation–this sweat isn’t going to wash itself off.
An hour and a half later, I strut out to do a model walk for my roommates. They’re all cuddled up on the couch, a vat of popcorn in the middle, watchingBridgerton.
Wolf whistles and applause abound as I do a spin. My makeup is intentionally understated, with a pale pink lip and light eyeliner. My hair is once again curled–I must like this guy if I’ve already curled my stick-straight hairtwicefor him.
The dress he chose looks pretty perfect, if I do say somyself. It hugs my body all the way down. Basketball players aren’t tiny, but we often make up for it with our curves. I have the weight room to thank for that.
Just as AJ starts her terrible Lady Whistledown impersonation telling me I’m the diamond of the season, I’m saved by the doorbell. AJ beats me to the door and throws it open.