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CLEM

“This is so stupid,” I huff, throwing clothes everywhere. My bedroom is a mess, and if I’d just listened to Nina and agreed to have her dress me, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Maybe it’s not too late to get Nina to come over,” I say to Remy, who is lying down on my bed, scrolling through his phone.

His eyes dart up from the screen to look at me. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Why did I agree to this? I’m not this person.”

He raises a brow. “What person?”

“This.” I point to all the clothes. “I don’t care about this stuff. I don’t go on dates.”

“Knock, knock, knock,” Nina says, like an apparition standing in my doorway. “I’m here to save the day.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my whole body visibly relaxing at her impromptu visit.

“Did you think I was going to take your word for it when you said you were fine?”

“Iamfine,” I say defensively.

“So not fine,” Remy interjects.

“Hey,” I scold. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“There’s no side.” He climbs up off the bed and walks toward Nina, squeezing her shoulder when he reaches her. “Calm her down, please. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Nina walks farther into my room as Remy walks out and closes the door behind himself.

“Are you okay?” Nina asks, the sarcasm and bravado now missing from her voice.

I throw my hands in the air, frustrated. “I spent money I don’t have on outfits I don’t love.”

Nina’s face softens as she sits down on my bed and sifts through my strewn about clothes.

“You really like her, huh?”

Groaning, I tip my head up to the ceiling, not wanting Nina to be able to see how true her words are. It’s not that I can’t admit it, it’s just that what I’m admitting feels sacred and personal, and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve been friends with men, slept with men, thought I liked some of them, and allowed them to overstay their welcome in situation-ships that did nothing more than pass the time. Nothing, and I meannothing,has felt as significant or as important as this weekend.

Everything about it is new for me; the effort, the care, the excitement. It feels like my whole world is shifting in ways I never saw coming. But there’s also the fear and the apprehension of not giving myself permission to indulge and enjoy and want something that’s solely for me.

Overwhelmed and a little bit defeated, I lower myself onto the bed, sitting beside Nina, who is patiently silent as I try to process my thoughts and feelings. I fall back onto the mountain of clothes and she does the same.

“It’s weird,” I start, as we both stare at the ceiling. “I thought since we’d already slept together that it would take the pressure off how perfect I want this all to be.”

“Perfect for you or perfect for her?” Nina asks.

I contemplate her question. “Both, I think,” I hedge. “But mainly her. I guess I’m feeling a little insecure about who she could have and what else she could be doing instead of whatever this, with me, is.”

“I don’t like hearing you underestimate yourself,” she scolds lightly. “If I’ve understood everything that’s happened between you two correctly, shewantsyou. So, yeah, maybe she could be doing whatever with whoever, but she really wants this with you.”

Logically, I know she’s right, but I can’t help but feel like Zara’s a little bit out of my league.

“So, what’s the plan tonight? What kind of date is it?” Nina asks.

“I agreed to dinner out, and she said she would let me know the details later tonight, but I really don’t want to,” I admit. “As nice as it is, that’s not me. Not with how anxious I’m feeling now anyway.”