Off Limits

8. Blame the Alcohol

I had no plans of going out tonight, but I didn't mind. We were in Florida, and I didn't want to sit around watching TV all day. Going out was exactly what I needed, and I was not going to say no to that.

"What the hell do I wear?" I shouted over the loud music, glancing over my shoulder while Sam tried to curl her hair. I skimmed through the closet three times and couldn't find anything of mine that stood out to me. It was my first night out, and I wanted to look decent. I haven't been doing my hair or much of anything lately.

I leaned forward in the mirror, coating my eyelashes a few times before running a red tube of lipstick across my lips. I smacked my lips together and raked my fingers through my long, straight hair. Looking at myself in the mirror, I noticed so much of a difference. I looked alive, and no, it wasn't because of the makeup, but I felt good. I hated being a girl growing up because it was so time-consuming compared to men. But I loved getting ready with my best friend, blasting music, and seeing the outcome.

"I already picked an outfit out for you in my head. It just might be shorter on you, but you'll be fine," she announced, teasing her curls. One benefit of having a wealthy best friend was that she hated wearing the same outfit more than once and got rid of many nice things. I never complained. She could dress me up all she wanted.

After messing with my hair, I whipped it to the back and stood up to check myself out in full. While Sam ran out of the room, I snapped a few pictures of myself to send to my mom and update my social media profiles. I haven't been active, and I didn't change my relationship status. And It surprised me that she didn't call me yet to question me about our cryptic call a few days ago.

Sam came back into the room with a handful of options. "I thought you said you had one outfit in mind for me," I questioned, my eyes wide, watching her lay everything on the bed.

"And I do," she pushed, using hand gestures. "These are for me. You're wearing this." She lifted a red satin, strapless dress that had one long sleeve and a plunging neckline. It looked expensive, more than all of my clothes put together.

My mouth dropped open when I touched the material. "Are you sure? It's beautiful," I whined, grabbing the dress to lie against my skin.

"Riley, wear the damn dress."

I stripped out of my sweats and slipped the dress on, admiring the look and feel. It was like butter and looked amazing on me. It was much shorter than I planned, stopping right under my ass, and it exposed more than enough cleavage. But hell. I was a single woman now and could do and wear whatever I wanted.

"So," I shouted, spinning around until I ended in a pose. "How do I look?"

After Sam put on her black-two piece that complimented her curves, she said, "Damn, woman, warn me next time. You look amazing," she complimented me. I returned the compliment, getting extreme college nostalgia.

While Samantha turned the music off, I sprayed myself with my favorite floral scent and zipped up my black heels. We matched. I had on a red dress with black heels, and Sam had on a black dress with red heels. And she ended up putting her curly hair into a ponytail that brought out her face more.

I stole another glance at myself before we cautiously walked downstairs, hearing the boys involved in their game. It was a little past ten, and they haven't moved or taken a break. They were all in the same positions, screaming at the TV as the other parties could hear them.

"Alright, we'll be back later," Sam exclaimed, acting as if she were about to leave. She just wanted her boyfriend's attention, and I didn't blame her. It was tough having to compete with a video game. It was as if it controlled the lives of men, and they got lost in a virtual abyss.