Page 46 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)
Maybelle
Chelsea, Penny, and I prowled through rows upon rows of dress racks, pawing at the glittering gowns. I hadn’t realized how extravagant this whole football banquet ordeal was until I finally remembered to tell Penny I was attending as Sam’s date.
Without a response, Penny had scrambled to my closet, searching for what, I had no clue.
In twenty minutes, she had each piece of clothing stripped from my closet. It had all been strewn about our room when she announced we would be going shopping.
I didn’t understand why I would need a new dress. But even Chelsea, who arrived earlier that Friday morning, insisted a dress shopping trip was in order. So, the three of us piled into Chelsea’s car and sped straight for the mall.
I tried on over thirty dresses, in colors of pink, lilac, red, green and colors I didn’t know the names of. Chelsea and Penny had dismissed each one. Sending me hiking my skirts back to the dressing rooms to try on the next gown .
“Don’t stress, Bells. We’ll find you the perfect dress for tomorrow,” Penny called from outside the dressing room.
I didn’t answer right away because I was holding my breath, trying to squeeze into a skintight, black, strapless dress bedecked in rhinestones. I feared that one full exhale would have each stitch in the hem snapping.
“I don’t think I’m the stressed one here, Penn,” I puffed through a strained, tightly held breath, but Penny wasn’t near the dressing room anymore by the sound of it.
I could hear her voice across the store squealing with excitement, “Chelsea, you angel, yes! This one is perfect!”
Her tittering steps approached just as I finally got the black dress to fully glove my body. I opened the door to her standing there with the biggest, cheesiest grin on her pale, freckled face.
“You’re hot,” she said, giving me a quick, appreciative once over. “But take that off. This is the one,” she announced, pushing a new dress into my arms.
“Well, grab me some scissors because I’m not getting this thing off without tearing it. Or dislocating a joint,” I speculated, gesturing to the black fabric tightening and pulling at my curves.
Penny twirled away from me to Chelsea, who perched on a small sofa in the common room each dressing stall opened up to.
“All hands on deck, Chels!” she hollered, and Chelsea needed no more instruction. She was up and all three of us went to work on the dress.
“Okay, I’ll take top, you take bottom,” Penny instructed Chelsea as we stuffed ourselves into the small stall, clearly oblivious to the ulterior meaning behind her comment.
I slid my bestie a sidelong, suggestive glance.
She scoffed. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Chad Larson. Get your head out of the gutter and relax your muscles. This is going to be a tight fit,” she said, studying the small space we had to work with.
This time, even Chelsea snickered like a preteen boy with me at the unintentional innuendo.
Penny rolled her eyes. “Alright ladies, on my mark, get set—Pull!”
After a few minutes of wheezing laughter, shouts of “suck in” and a butt-load of humiliation for me, we finally peeled me free of the stupid dress.
Now, I exited the dressing stall in the most beautiful article of clothing I’d ever seen. And by the look of Chelsea and Penny’s stunned, slack-jawed demeanors, they felt the same.
Penny covered her growing, giddy grin with both hands, kicking her feet on the ground. Chelsea put a hand over her heart, tears lining her eyes.
The dress was formfitting from my torso to my thighs, with string straps and a skirt that snaked the floor as I walked.
The fabric was silky soft and shimmered in the light.
But it was smooth, no rhinestones or glitter need be applied.
The neckline dipped, a flattering fit to my small chest. The bodice fell open in the back, reconnecting to hug my waist and follow the hourglass shape of my hips.
The dress was decadent, absolutely stunning. The color, though, was breathtaking. A light, pale forget-me-not blue that made my eyes sparkle like the sea.
I spun to face Chelsea and Penny, who both stared in awe. “It’s perfect!” Penny squealed. Chelsea only nodded with a watery smile.
“You think Sam will like it?” I asked and as I expected but refused to acknowledge, both Penny's and Chelsea’s faces fell.
“Oh—uh, yeah. Sam will love it,” Penny said.
** *
Penny, Daniel, Chelsea, and I filed into our seats as the boys entered the stadium. The football team was a wave of excitement and determination as they ran across the field. The crowd went wild, erupting into a chaos that made my ears ring.
I scanned the team, noting how Bear stood taller than the rest. Larson was the one hyping the team up, each down. Williams hung his arm over another teammate.
I knew I should’ve been searching for Sam’s number nine, but my eyes fell on the Turner, number thirty-three jersey. And that is where my attention remained for the duration of the game.
“I’m so proud of them,” Chelsea said as she and I stood from our seats, the last ten seconds of the clock running out.
Daniel and Penny had left during halftime, leaving Chelsea and me alone to scream and cheer at the nail-biting last quarter. Our boys had pulled through with a last second touchdown.
“They killed it,” I agreed.
We both walked down to the field, entering with the other few permitted family members of the players.
Almost instantly, my eyes met with Trey’s smiling green ones as he approached. I was so busy staring I missed the incoming football player until I was tackled from the side.
Noah Williams lifted me into the air.
“Did you see that game, little Mason?! We wrecked them!” he howled, spinning with me slung over his padded shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
I was tempted to tease him. Point out that if not for that last-minute touchdown, scored by Trey, they would’ve been the wrecked ones. I thought better of it.
Let him boast, they won, they deserved it.
“Yes, very good. Now put me down before I throw up.” He ignored me, swinging me around with a gripping arm around the backs of my legs .
“Bring it in, my guy!” he shouted.
Confused, I thought Williams was talking to me. I realized, as I was slung forward and sandwiched between two sweaty men, that he actually addressed Trey. Now they both smothered me between them in a group hug. With Williams at my back, I looked up to face Trey, who pushed himself against me.
He was smirking, and I was blushing.
Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.
“Oh, my gosh! You three stay right there. This deserves a picture!” Chelsea exclaimed, fumbling with her purse.
Trey pressed against me even tighter, and I glared up at him in response.
His chuckle vibrated through my chest as he leaned in, breathing a whisper into my ear, “Don’t act like you don’t like it, May. Me pressed against you. Just like that night.”
I tried for only a moment to gather myself, but I didn’t have the wherewithal to reply. We hadn’t talked about that night once in the last week. I thought we were going to do exactly as Trey offered—pretend.
That we would put on the false front that those long hours alone in his bed hadn’t been the best, most beautiful moments that had occurred between us. That the one fake night of being together hadn’t completely toppled my defenses.
Nothing truly physical happened between us. Nothing past the soft exploration of his fingertips up my arms. His face nuzzled into my neck as I held him, or his gentle breathing dancing through my hair as he slept.
No, nothing physical past the desperate need to hold to one another and never let go. Now… I couldn’t say the same thing for us emotionally. I may not have touched Trey’s skin past the waistband of his pants, and he may not have explored my body past the neckline of my shirt, but our hearts.. .
They were a tangle of feelings. A writhing jumble of emotions. Stroking, taking, giving, exploding, and creating in the most obscene and sentimental way two souls could intertwine.
I thought I got away unscathed and my defiance to remain anything but his was still intact.
Spoiler: It wasn’t.
Truth was… My heart was still hauled up in that bed, that night, twisted in the sheets and in his arms.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to reply because Williams’s arm, that was wrapped around my middle, released to jab Trey in the stomach.
“That’s enough. You can’t whisper cringey shit in her ear like that while we’re all pressed together like this,” he chided.
“Noah, smile, hun! And Maybelle, wrap your arms around Trey,” Chelsea directed, bringing each of our attentions back to her and the camera. Williams and I reluctantly obeyed, while Trey smiled proudly for the picture.
Chelsea and I walked with the boys back toward the locker rooms to shower and dress. Trey and Chelsea planned to go out for their mother, son date as soon as he was ready. So, I was looking for my roommate, Madelyn, who said she’d give me a ride home after the game.
Trey and Williams left us girls for the showers while I glanced at the edge of the stands. I scanned the faces for Madelyn, missing the man in front of me until I was stumbling into his awaiting arms.
Frazzled, I glimpsed up to see Sam smiling down at me. Fortunately for me, he wasn’t sweaty like the other guys, because he sat sidelines the entire game, but I wasn’t complaining.
“You came.”
He beamed down at me, his arms around me, hugging tight. I hated the fact that Larson’s voice was in my head, spitting off a string of inappropriate jokes using that one line. I really had been spending way too much time with him.
“Oh, uh, yeah, had to support my team.”
My arms were still uncomfortably stiff by my sides, so I quickly brought them up around his waist. He pulled me even closer, encouraged by my reciprocation of his affectionate touch.
“It means the world to see you here,” he said so dreamily I was surprised he didn’t break out into song like a Disney movie prince.
“What can I say? I love sports.”