Plus One

28: Chemical reaction

28: And the chemicals react

It was official: I’d gone crazy.

Perhaps my insanity could’ve been blamed on the sheer fact that it was Saturday, and my brain’s ability to function on the weekends had a habit of decreasing exponentially with time. Or, I could’ve decided that the cause was Taylor and Dominic, who, on the eve of their anniversary, were inclined to get distracted every few minutes and start making out in various corners of the apartment. I’d walked into the bathroom, the kitchen, and the hallway only to find one of the two pinned against the wall, the other trapping them there with a cheeky smile.

I wouldn’t have interrupted them so many times were it not for my frantic assessment of the living space on behalf of the reason for my apparent insanity: my dress was missing. I had other outfits suitable for a club, but as I was unwillingly bound to the irrationality of the female gender, my mind was set, and any other dress was unacceptable. I hadn’t leant it out or taken it anywhere; in fact, I’d seen it in the corner of my bedroom a week earlier. The fabric was hardly inconspicuous: deep, Tiffany blue with accentuating silver seams.

Having just torn apart my bed for the eighth time, I groaned loudly and hurled my pillow out the door. Given my luck of the morning, I really shouldn’t have been all that surprised when it collided with Dominic as he walked by. He hesitated, looking around in confusion, before catching my stare through the doorway.

Expression inquisitive, he grinned at me, “Everything okay?”

“No,” I mumbled, pouting. “My dress is nowhere to be seen. I’ve looked everywhere. I spent way too much money on that dress, and I’ve only worn it once. This is terrible.”

“Really? That’s… weird.” Dom’s voice was aiming for sympathetic, but it was clear he didn’t really understand the gravity of my predicament. I wished Charlotte were here already; neither of my roommates cared that deeply about clothes. Dominic scratched his head idly, “You sure you didn’t lose it somewhere?”

“Dom, where on earth would I have lost my dress?” Maybe my tone was a little more biting than I’d intended, but I didn’t bother to apologize. The blond wasn’t likely to take real offense, and I was pissed off.

“Hm, I don’t know,” he sang. “Adrian’s house?”

“Oh, yes! Thanks!” I cheered sarcastically. “Yesterday, we had sex in his apartment, and then when I was coming home, I simply forgot to put my clothes back on. Oops!”

He picked up the pillow at my feet and threw it back at me. “I’m just trying to be helpful. How about what you’re wearing right now?”

I looked down at myself with a wary sigh, too far in despair to suffer from embarrassment over my outfit: I was clothed in old jeans, one sock, and a very extravagant-looking bra that was supposed to be hidden beneath my missing dress. Out of impulse, I crossed my arms over my bare stomach and shot Dominic an exasperated glare. He simply laughed, negating my irritation with his gorgeous charm, and then told me that he’d keep his eye out for the dress.

Despite Dom’s offer, I’d reached the point of seriously doubting I’d ever get to sport my intended outfit. I was slipping into the dress I’d worn to Interlude previously when Taylor hopped into my room. He always seemed to look good, even when his hair was wild and his clothes casual and somewhat dirty; nevertheless, the artist did indeed clean up well. With slim, white jeans and a clean white shirt, he looked very much as if he were dusted with snow. The white, however, was cut sharply by black suspenders, a black tie, and black shoes. The look almost belonged within the pages of a magazine; instead, perhaps to the disadvantage of my ability to breathe, it was displayed three feet before me.