"I look like a loofah," I complain as I frown at my reflection.

After running around the mall for four hours last night, I called it quits and told Kimmy to just buy two dresses and I'd choose one of them to wear. That was clearly a grave mistake.

"I like it!" Kimmy crosses her arms. "You look like a princess."

"Yeah, the princess of bathing supplies." I begin to unzip the puffy light blue ball gown. "Kimmy, I hope the other dress is a bit less...extra."

"What's wrong with being extra?" Kimmy grunts and walks over to her closet pulling out a dark grey garment bag. This one looks thinner. I'm hoping that means it's not 90% tulle. "Here, take it. Enjoy your bland dress."

I roll my eyes as I open the bag and pull out a floor-length dress. It's a midnight blue satin gown with a strapless bodice. "This is actually so beautiful, Kimmy. I'm impressed."

"Put it on!" Kimmy begs.

I carefully slide into the dress and ask Kimmy to zip me up. The dress fits perfectly. It hugs my waist, and the skirt is voluminous but manageable. Surprisingly, the girls look pretty decent as well.

I turn around and take a step forward. My eyes widen as my entire leg slips out of the side of the flowing satin fabric.

"Kimmy!" I shriek. "There's a hole in the dress!"

Kimmy snorts. "Lilah, it's called a slit."

"This is purposely here? Kim, this almost reaches my...yoohoo."

"Stop being so dramatic. It's sexy!"

"But-"

"No buts! You'll be fine as long as you don't do any cabaret dancing." Kimmy walks over to her vanity table and starts applying her makeup. "Are you planning on doing the can-can tonight?" she quips.

I purse my lips. God, she's something. "No..."

"Thought so. Now get over here." Kimmy lifts up a make-up palette. "This is called bronzer," Kimmy says slowly. "And it will soon be your best friend."

After twenty painful minutes of squinting, pouting, and 'sucking in my cheeks', Kimmy leaves me to put on her dress. Apparently, I am not to be trusted to do my own glam, nor do I have the proper training to put on a dress after hair and make-up. According to Kimmy, it's a skill that must be mastered and I'm merely an apprentice.

Kimmy glides out of the bathroom in a deep v-neck sunflower-yellow chiffon evening gown.

"Holy shit, Kimmy. You look amazing. So...bright." I would never in a million years dare to wear something this loud, but Kimmy rocks it. I am in constant awe of her confidence and self-assurance.

"I know!" Kimmy squeals. "Now, this is extra! I feel like a glamorous marshmallow peep!"

"Nothing says 'Happy Thanksgiving' like Easter candy," I joke as my eyes dart to Kimmy's chest. Hunter's gift! I almost forgot.

"Are you staring at my boobs, Lilah?" Kimmy asks with a grin.

I scowl sarcastically at her. "No, I was looking at your necklace." I reach for my purse and pull out a wide rectangular velvet box. "Look what Hunter bought me!"

Kimmy rushes over to my side, and I open the box. Inside is an elegant white gold diamond necklace.

"Oh, my fuck." Kimmy gasps. "Hunter bought you Cartier?"

I check the imprinted logo on the inside of the box. "Yeah, I guess. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Uh-huh." Kimmy nods. "And expensive."

I roll my eyes as I put on the first piece of jewelry I've ever received as a gift. "I'm sure it's reasonable."

"Sweetie, it's Cartier." Kimmy shakes her head. "It's never reasonable."

I graze my fingers along the gems. He wouldn't have gone overboard and spent too much, would he? He knows I would have been delighted with cubic zirconia. The longer the stringed necklace sits on my collar, the more I begin to wonder if these are actual diamonds.

"They're here!" Kimmy exclaims as she waves her phone. We grab our faux fur stoles and head downstairs.

Hunter and Jack greet us outside of Kimmy's condo. They're both wearing fitted black tuxedos, except Jack's bow tie and pocket square are yellow.

Kimmy leaps into Jack's arms. "You wore the yellow! Thank you!"

Jack laughs. "I'm sure father will be pleased."

"Oh, whatever. A little color never hurt anybody!" Kimmy counters.

I smile warmly at their interaction. It's refreshing to see Kimmy with someone who lets her be herself.

"Hello, gorgeous." Hunter's fingers flutter up my arm and I spin around. "You look breathtaking."

Speak for yourself. Hunter's hair is slicked back and he smells like an exquisite combination of aftershave and brandy. They must have had a drink before picking us up.

"Thank you." I blush as we slide into the limousine.

I was expecting to ride in the town car but I guess we wouldn't have all fit. Not a minute into the ride, Kimmy popps open a bottle of champagne and pours us all a glass. She's treating this like prom night rather than a family dinner, but I'm not complaining. Champagne is champagne.

The limo stops outside a cream-colored townhouse on the Upper East Side. I hold my breath as Hunter takes my hand.

Kimmy and Jack enter the home but I hesitate outside the doorstep. Just be yourself. What a ridiculous notion considering this neighborhood.

"Lilah," Hunter's soothing voice echoes in my ear. "It'll be fine."

We step inside the townhouse and the swarms of shuffling bodies instantly cause me to overheat.

"Why are there so many people here? I thought you said this was a dinner. Like, turkey, stuffing, and cranberries from a can. Not a freaking meet-up of New York elite."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Hunter links his fingers through mine. "Let's go find my father."

  Hunter tugs me through a throng of people to the fireplace on the fringe of the living room. My eyes focus in on an older man with a bleach blonde woman by his side.

"Father." Hunter stops us in front of the salt and pepper haired man. "What's going on? You told me this was a sit-down dinner. Who are all these people?"

"Is that any way to greet your father? Hunter, have you no shame. I haven't seen you in months." Mr. Carlisle arches a curious brow. "Who is this?" he asks as he nods towards me.

Hunter introduces me to his father. I extend my hand to shake his but he avoids it like the plague. The blonde is apparently Hunter's step-mother. Usually, I can estimate a person's age but Trish clearly has had one too many syringes of botox to allow for an accurate reading. She also doesn't shake my hand. Their reception is colder than winter in Minsk.

Hunter notices my discomfort and tightens his grip around my hand. Jack and Kimmy sneak up behind us and another round of introductions teeter back and forth. Jack introduces Kimmy by her full name which makes her cringe. They didn't shake her hand either, so that makes me feel better.

"So, you both have new companions, and neither of you mentioned this to me," Mr. Carlisle states.

"Oh, don't be so sour, dad." Jack pats him on the back. "We're doing it now."

Mr. Carlisle's wrinkles soften. Jack's relationship with his father is a complete contrast to Hunter's.

"Well, ladies," Mr. Carlisle begins. "Tell me about yourselves. Kimberly, what do your parents do?"

"I don't see what my parents have to do with me, but my dad is a broker on Wall Street and my mom's an interior decorator," Kimmy answers. Holy boldness.

I press my lips together as I lean against Hunter.

"Decorator? I've wanted to spruce up the west wing for some time!" Trish beams at Kimmy.

Mr. Carlisle places his hand on Trish's shoulder. "You can spend my money in a minute. I'd like to hear about her father a bit more. What firm does he work for?" he asks.

"Afinite Investment Corp." Kimmy shrugs."But he doesn't work there. He owns it."

Mr. Carlisle tries to conceal the surprise on his face. "Your father is Jae Park?"

"Mhm."

"Interesting," Mr. Carlisle muses and turns towards me. "And you, Lilah? What do your parents do?"

I knew this question was coming. I look at Hunter nervously and he reassuringly runs his fingers through my hair. I swallow. "My dad passed away a year and a half ago, but he worked in construction. My mom...didn't have to work."

"Construction? What did he do?"

"He was a foreman."

"Hm," Mr. Carlisle pauses as his eyes curiously dart to my necklace, but then he turns back to Kimmy. "Kimberly, I'd love to meet your father and discuss my stock options."

Although I'm glad his attention has steered away from me, I can't help but feel the hollowness in my chest. He doesn't like me. 

Kimmy catches my solemn eyes before looking at Mr. Carlisle. "I'll see what I can do," she says expressionlessly and turns to Jack. "It's stuffy over here, can we wander?"

Jack nods as he and Kimmy vanish into the pompous crowds. And then there were two. The air is riddled in unpleasant tension. Someone, please say something.

"Lilah and I are going to get a drink. We'll see you around." Hunter breaks the silence and we walk away quietly to an empty cocktail table.

Hunter grabs two drinks from a passing server and hands me one, a half-smile appearing on his face as I take a sip.

"What's with that look?" I ask. "Did I spill?" I pat my chest trying to feel for liquid.

"You just look beautiful tonight. I can't help but stare."

I roll my eyes. "It's the make-up."

"No, it's what's underneath." Hunter shakes his head. "I'm sorry about my father. He can be curt at times."

"You don't need to apologize to me for other people's behavior, Hunter. The way you've talked about your dad before gave me a fairly good understanding about the type of man he is. I came prepared."

"Still." Hunter strokes my hand. "He should've shown more interest."

"It's fine," I lie. I don't want to strain Hunter's relationship with his dad any more than it already is. "So, tell me about the book. Do you feel like you're living in the 'now'"?

The next hour passes by with laughter and banter. We're surrounded by crowds of strangers but Hunter and I block out all the noise and chatter. It's just us. Comfortable. Easy. Warm. We have a level of understanding that I didn't know could exist in a relationship. Just with a look, I could tell Hunter a story and he would get it. It's the type of connection I've only ever had with Kimmy. It's like our wiring has been intertwined. We're operating on the same circuit board, and it's a wonderful feeling. I no longer feel shy, or unable to say what's on my mind. Hunter always tells me he loves the way my brain works, the way I view the world.

As I'm just finishing telling him the story of the BBQ road trip I went on with my parents, Mr. Carlisle approaches our table with a stunning brunette by his side.

"Son, are you enjoying yourself?" Mr. Carlisle's eyes shift between the two of us.

"I am." Hunter beams as he glances towards me. "Tell Trish, she did a great job."

"I will." Mr. Carlisle nudges the brunette closer to the table. "Hunter, do you remember Penelope Seraphim? Of the Chicago Seraphim's. Her family used to vacation with us in Europe."

"Of course." Hunter nods. "It's nice to see you again, Penelope."

Penelope blushes and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Oh Hunter, you know you can call me Penny," she laughs. Ok, well she's clearly into him.

"Penelope just recently moved to New York. Perhaps you can show her around the city," Mr. Carlisle suggests. "The two of you could visit the MoMA, there's a new Abstraction exhibit that I'm sure you'd both enjoy. There are lots of thought-provoking pieces two like-minded young people would be able to discuss."

Mr. Carlisle's tone is implying something. And that something is making me feel awfully shitty. Does he think I'm so low caliber I wouldn't be able to discuss art? I could run circles around art theory! This jagged line really captures the artist's anguish. See? Expert.

I glance over at Hunter whose lip twitches briefly. "Father, I'm sure Penelope is more than capable of pulling up Google Maps and finding her own way around," Hunter states with an edge in his voice. Then he turns to Penelope. "However, if you'd like, Lilah and I could accompany you to the MoMA."

Penelope looks at Mr. Carlisle then back at me and Hunter. "The...three of us?"

Hunter nods. "Yes. You, me, and my girlfriend, Lilah."

Penelope bites her lip. "Girlfriend?"

Mr. Carlisle didn't even tell her that his son is dating? Hunter narrows his eyes at his father. "Can we talk for a minute? Outside?"

Mr. Carlisle nods, and the two of them head towards the patio.

"Um," Penelope hums. "I need to-uh."

"You can go, don't worry. You don't need an excuse," I say, giving her an out. "I need to go to the ladies room anyway." Ladies room is better than loo!

Penelope scurries away, and I squeeze through groups of people trying to find the washroom. Passing the patio, I hear two distinct voices booming from outside. I press myself up against the wall.

"With everything happening at Fairview, I am disappointed you're wasting your valuable time on a girl like that," Mr. Carlisle snarls.

"Oh, but if it was Penelope Seraphim, then you wouldn't have an issue?" Hunter asks.

"Son, please be logical. You are a Carlisle, and whatever you have going on with this girl won't last. It can't. You've got obligations to this family. When I retire, you will be the face of Carlisle Industries, and that means having someone by your side that is appropriate."

"Appropriate? What does that even mean?"

"You know precisely what I mean. Someone who will be able to keep up appearances. Someone like Penelope. Hell, even Camille is a better option. Maybe you ought to give her another chance, people change!"

"You're unbelievable, father. You'd rather I be with someone who is unfaithful and a liar rather than Lilah? You barely even know her, how can you judge her?"

"Please. Her father was a construction worker, Hunter. If you want to have a little bit of fun with a girl like that, then fine. But let's get one thing straight, she will never be accepted into our world. You can put a ten thousand dollar necklace on trash, but at the end of the day, it's still trash."

Trash? The word rings in my head and the room feels like a vacuum, the air dragging out of my lungs. I knew that his father would have difficulty adjusting to our relationship, but to blatantly disregard me for my upbringing? My eyes begin to well up with tears. I push myself off the wall but my wobbly knees give out and I lose my balance at the same time as a server passes by. I stagger forward and my hand tips the tray of champagne glasses, causing them to shatter on the floor.

I look at the server apologetically and she tells me it's okay. The hot tears running down my face probably deter her from giving me attitude. Standing up, I regain my balance and head towards the door. I need to leave.

"Lilah!" Hunter's voice calls out from behind me but I start walking faster. I open the front door and bolt down the street, as fast as one can with high heels on.

"Lilah, stop!" Hunter yells. "I will chase you until you can't run anymore."

Panting, I make it almost three blocks before I stop to take a breather. Hunter catches up to me and I take a step back, wiping my face.

    Hunter stares at me, his emerald green eyes hooded. "How much did you hear?" he finally asks.

    "Enough," I mutter and Hunter takes a step towards me.

    "Please don't take what he said to heart," Hunter pleads. "It doesn't change anything. It doesn't change what we are to each other."

    "Hunter," I exhale deeply. "He said I was trash. How would you feel if someone said that about you? Every fear and insecurity I have about our relationship, your father just confirmed."

    "What he said was inexcusable and utterly untrue." Hunter lifts his long fingers to my cheek. "Lilah, you are everything to me. No one, including my father, will ever make me feel differently."

    I close my eyes and breathe in the crisp autumn air. "But people will always judge you for being with me. I'm sure the next time we're at a party like this and someone asks about my family or my upbringing, they'll whisper and laugh about me behind our backs."

    "So? Let them laugh. Let them whisper. Their opinions about you or us don't matter. I don't care what people think. The only person I care about is you."

    "How can you say that? Sooner or later, as your dad said, you're going to take over the family business. You told me before that business is personal. What if being with me hurts the company?"

    "Lilah, fuck the company," Hunter declares in frustration. "Do you really think our stocks are going to plummet because I'm not dating a Kennedy? None of that matters. It's just this twisted idea my father has, and it has no merit. And even if it did, I wouldn't care."

"But-" I stammer and both of Hunter's hands dwarf my face.

"No. But nothing. It's you and me. That's all that matters. Lilah, don't you get it? I -I" Hunter's eyes sizzle with a cacophony of rawness. "I love you." Hunter's vulnerable voice is quiet, and he leans his forehead against mine.

His soft, sweet confession pricks my heart and stuns me into a jubilant silence. An internal duel erupts, pitting reason against passion, caution against recklessness, brain versus heart. My rational brain is yelling at me, telling me that it's too soon. But my heart, my fragile, romantic, and foolish heart is shouting even louder.

"Hunter," I whisper. "I..."

"Lilah," Hunter murmurs. "You don't need to say anything right now. There's no pressure, I just needed to tell you how I felt. Please just don't leave."

I lift my gaze to meet his glossy, desperate eyes. "I'm here. I'm not leaving." I brush Hunter's jaw with the back of my cold hand, snaking my fingers around his neck, pulling his handsome face closer to mine. Our tempered breaths play off one another. A montage of memories plays in my head and my apprehensive brain slowly surrenders, waving a white flag.   "I love you, too." My lips crash into his, sweet and intimate and lingering. Hunter's heart beats against my chest, rapid and frantic, a beautiful contrast to our tender, gentle and airy kisses.

"Baby, I know I said no pressure," Hunter breathes on my lips. "But God, I am so happy you said that."

"I am too." I smile, feeling fulfilled, and giddy, as we bring ourselves back to the real world. I wince as I finally register the throbbing in my feet.  "I think you need to call Harry."

"Why's that?"

"I just ran three blocks in stilettos." I bend down to unclasp my shoes. "And very fast, might I add."

Hunter laughs as he takes off his jacket and lays it across the dirty sidewalk. "Probably shouldn't stand barefoot in New York."

"This is the Upper East Side, Hunter. Don't they power wash with gold-infused water?" I quip.

Hunter grins and shakes his head. "Just get on the jacket."