[CHAPTER TWELVE]

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you're going to forget about him.
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"HOW DOES THIS look?" I asked, holding up a ruffled blue dress up to my chest

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"HOW DOES THIS look?" I asked, holding up a ruffled blue dress up to my chest.

Debbie scrunched her eyebrows together, and finally shook her head. "Not your color." After taking a long glance around the boutique, she picked out a flowy wine-colored dress instead. "Try this one."

I shook my head, gesturing to the nonexistent shoulder straps. "I don't have the boobs to pull that off."

"Bullshit. C'mon, it'll totally show Carl what he's missing."

I froze at hearing Carl's name, and once Debbie had realized what she said, she quickly apologized.

"I mean, you're gonna look bomb." Debbie blurted out, and I gave her a small smile. Then, a cotton-candy pink dress caught the corner of my eye. Without hesitation, I pulled it off of the rack. "I'll try on that dress if you try on this one."

A skeptical look crossed Debbie's face, before she nodded her head. "Let's do it."

- ♡ -

Debbie and I ended up buying both of the dresses, and we had decided to get ready at my house. Soft indie music played in the background as Debbie twirled the curling iron around a strand of my hair.

"I'm so excited! It's not every night that we get to wear pretty dresses, and do our hair, and makeup...oh my God, I'm so ready!" I was faced in the opposite direction of where Debbie was standing, but I could still feel her smiling as she curled my hair.

"Me, too." I replied, forcing a smile onto my face.

Debbie frowned, placing the curling iron on the bedside table. "Nelly, you're going to go to prom, and you're going to slay so fucking hard, and you're going to forget about him because you're having such a good time. Got it?"

Upon hearing Debbie's words of encouragement, I smiled genuinely. "I ever tell you how much I love you?"

"Almost every day." Debbie laughed, as I joined in with her. "All right...done!"

I thanked Debbie for doing my hair, and then we both slipped on a pair of heels.

"Oh, shit." I murmured as I tried to stand up. "I never wear heels."

"Me either." Debbie admitted, grabbing onto my shoulder for support. "Okay, c'mon. We can do this."

Debbie and I made our way down the stairs—slowly but surely—and Aunt Frances was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her eyebrows rising once she saw us. She gave both of us short kisses on the cheek, smiling so big that her cheekbones rose too.

smooth criminal ➪ carl gallagherWhere stories live. Discover now