ROSE'S POV
The night of the dinner, I found myself standing in front of my closet, staring blankly at the rows of clothes.
Dresses, skirts, blouses, and jeans — none of it felt right. My fingers hovered over a pale blue dress, but I quickly pulled them back, unsure of what kind of night this would be. This wasn’t just any party, after all. It was Brandon’s party. At his house, with his family. People I didn’t know. I wanted to make a good impression.
I sighed, biting my lip. Nothing felt good enough.
A knock sounded at my door, breaking me out of my indecision.
“Come in,” I called.
Taylor stepped in. He had a small box in his hands, wrapped in sleek black paper.
“Hey, Rose,” he said “I thought you might be having a little trouble deciding.”
I blinked at the box, then up at him.
