Resisting Rosaleen (18+)

36

Have you ever been laid so good that the world automatically turns into a better place?

When I went home—aka went back to Viktor's and had Jared pick me up then go home—the birds were singing even though it's nighttime, the breeze was playful, the lights were glowing bright with hope and positivity, and our house felt welcoming.

My heart was full and my head was spinning.

My vagina was contented and I could still taste Nick's lips. I was whipped. Whipper than cream.

"Wanna tell me what's gotten you in such a good mood?" asked my brother when I spun into the living room, humming to a random tune in my schema.

"Had a great time at Viktor's," I lied.

"I thought you said you were going to Aiden's?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nope," I started, "Aiden's mom had people over so I went to Viktor."

"Uh-huh," he exclaimed.

I went to the kitchen and got myself a glass of water because physical activities got me dehydrated.

"We're going to Gram's estate this Saturday. Dad's gonna be there."

I put my glass down, "I can't," I tell him, "I have plans."

"More important than family?"

Yes, more important than dad.

"More important than a fake family lunch," I said to him.

Wyatt sighed, "Where are you going?"

"I promised Viktor I'll shop with him for a suit to wear for prom," I raised my chin.

"And he can't do that by himself?" he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I promised, " I emphasized, "I'm not going no matter how much you force me."

My brother eyed my suspiciously. "Fine," he cleared his throat, "Ill just tell him to move the date.

"Fine," I repeated.

I was overjoyed—too overjoyed that night to feel any worry from my brother's questions.

-

My walk-in-closet is six meters by six meters wide with two long hanging rods on the left, hybrid shelves on the right, a large sliding dresser on the farthest wall, and more cabinets on the wall opposing it—on either side of the door. To put it short, it was jam-packed.

It's filled with clothes—clothes enough for multiple lifetimes. My shoes and bags were also organized according to style and occasion.

So why the fuck can't I choose an outfit?

I groaned again, shrugging off the camisole I tried on because I didn't like the way it looked with my skirt. My skirt. Now that I've stared at myself in the mirror wearing it, the damn thing started looking ugly to me. It was the next to come off.

There was a large heap of clothes on the floor—every one of them I've tried on and rejected.

I'm not one to fret over my outfits because anything I wear works, but then, standing alone in the middle of my closet with my hands to my hips and my reflection on mirror, I was fucking clueless.

What the fuck do I wear to Vita?

It was Saturday which meant that I get to go with Nikolas to the event he was talking about, given that no one else knows but us and Viktor. The latter knew because he agreed to be my coverup, letting me tell my brother that we'll be shopping for something to wear for his prom night when really I'm gonna be spending the day with Nick.