Cupcakes at Midnight

Chapter 7

Saturday, I try and remind myself that there's nothing fundamentally different about things and how they are now, I just maybe don't get to have a naked lady falling asleep next to me for the moment. That thought doesn't help, though, because now I'm thinking about a naked lady falling asleep against my body, one arm wrapped under mine, soft fingers cradling my breast and pulling me closer.

As if she can sense my distress, Ivy texts me just one line, and it changes the flow of the weekend.

Be ready in 20 minutes.

I have no idea what she wants me to be ready for, but ... I'm ready. For almost anything, other than this feeling. I need to get away, and I'll take any of Ivy's plans.

When she shows up, I laugh. I'm in a sensible cardigan and tank top with jeans, and she's got on a dress with more sparkle than I've ever seen on anything before. Except maybe her engagement ring.

She looks at me, scolding me silently. The worst kind. She's better at it than my own Mom. "Jane."

My eyes go wide. "You said be ready. I'm ready."

She narrows her eyes, pulling me inside. "For a book club meeting, maybe."

"You didn't say what to be ready for."

Ivy rolls her eyes and pulls me into my bedroom. "You have to have something halfway sexy in this closet, right?"

I stifle a giggle as she moves hangers and touches what feels like every piece of clothing I own, still with her silent judging. She finally turns to look at me.

"What the fuck, Jane? Do we need to go shopping?"

I shake my head. "No, I love my clothes."

"Why?"

"Look at how comfortable they are," I say, grabbing the row of jeans. "And they almost all color-coordinate or match. It's so easy to get ready."

"Yes," Ivy says. "That's the exact issue. Nothing in here has any color. It's all shades of browns and grey with some white added in."

"That's what looks flattering on my body type," I say softly.

'I don't think that's as true as you think it is... Do you even own any dresses, or only these old lady skirts?"

"Where are we even going that I need something nicer or better than this stuff?"

"I'm taking you to the club."

I laugh so loud that I startle Cat. He immediately moves into a defensive position and that only makes me laugh harder.

"Well, I already know it's not book club, so ... do you want to tell me exactly what kind of club it is?"

Her smile is wide, too wide, and I start to get a little scared.

"A gay club."

"What? Ivy. No."

"Have you even ever been to one?"

She has a point there, but that's also not the point.

"No, but-"

"Shh." She puts her fingers against my lips. "Let's go. You can still wear jeans, but you're going to change into this top," she says, handing me a low-cut blouse. "And you're going to leave it as is, no safety pin in the middle. I know your tricks."

She really does.

I change and try to find a way around the pit of discomfort in my belly. Maybe this is what I need, to be pushed outside of my comfort zone. What's the worst that could happen?