Prue
I twirled in front of the mirror, watching the skirt flare and settle, trying to see myself from every possible angle. The dress wasn’t sunshine-bright yellow, not the kind of color that screamed look at me, but it was soft, warm, almost gentle. My dad had bought it for me. That alone should have been reason enough to wear it.
And… I did look good in it. That much I couldn’t deny. Which was exactly why my thoughts betrayed me and drifted – completely uninvited – to Alpha boy: Andrew. To the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he would like it too.
I groaned quietly at my reflection. I know, I know. Pathetic.
He had been nice. Twice. Barely. And here I was already spiraling, dressing up like a fool, acting as if two decent moments erased weeks of tension, irritation, and that const
