Every String Attached | GirlxGirl

Chapter Sixteen

York's tongue ran over her upper lip before flashing her one of her exclusive smiles. Not returning the wave, she turned on her heel, walking towards the single car parked outside of the complex, and climbed inside.

Shawn watched the car descend the lot until it became smaller and smaller, and until finally, it was no longer visible.

-

"I thought you had a lot of work to do."

Chance's back rested on Shawn's bed, her feet in the air, residing against the blue walls. She peered at Shawn, who was frantically searching through her dresser drawers as if she was dressing for a trip to the White House, upside down.

"I stayed up all night last night doing it," Shawn replied, fingers combing through an ocean of t-shirts. "I also couldn't sleep. Is it normal to be this nervous? I have never, ever been this nervous before."

Chance peeled her legs off of the wall then, rotating her body until she sat upright. "No, Shawn, it's not normal, because you're you. You have nothing to worry about."

"But... I am worried. Do you think York will wear a dress? I didn't even talk to her about what to wear, she doesn't even know where we're going."

"You told her you're going out to dinner though, didn't you?"

Shawn nodded, taking a break from her searching and ran a hand through her hair.

"York is going to wear a dress. There's no doubt about it." Chance paused then, and frowned. "And you're screwed."

"Why?"

"Because... Think about it. York in a dress. Shawn, she's going to look amazing, and you're going to die."

"I'm not going to die," Shawn retorted sarcastically.

"Okay, but I mean it when I say you're screwed." Chance pushed herself off of the bed and walked towards Shawn. "You're going to wear jeans, a t-shirt, and your denim jacket. And Shawn?"

"What?"

"Take a shower."

Rolling her eyes, Shawn shuffled out of her bedroom and into her bathroom, where she immediately closed the door behind her.

Over the past three days, her and Chance had mended any remaining wounds. Part of it was because her entire mood had lifted due to her progression with York. She was no longer upset with Chance, because really, there was no reason to be. And Chance was just happy that her best friend was back, and that she'd been forgiven.

Shawn showered faster than she had in a long time. She let cool water run over her body, keeping her hair out of the stream, and quickly drying off and pulling on what Chance had suggested.

In her ripped black jeans, white t-shirt, and signature denim jacket, she didn't feel like it was enough. If Chance was right, and York did end up wearing a dress—and God knew how good she would look in it, just as Chance said—Shawn would look like nothing next to her.

But it didn't matter what she looked like standing next to her. What mattered is what she felt while standing beside York, and she already knew that she wasn't prepared for that surge of adrenaline. But there was nothing more intoxicating than that.

After hastily applying a small amount of makeup to her eyes and lips, Shawn took to sitting on the edge of the coffee table in the living room, watching the clock of her phone, waiting—agonizingly—for the time to arrive when she would leave to pick up York.

"You're buying her flowers, aren't you?" Chance asked. She wiped the palms of her hands on her jeans, smearing tomato sauce on the denim and groaning. The apartment was thriving with the smell of her dinner, which only fuelled Shawn's impatience.