There's no denying the fact, this dress reveals quite a lot of cleavage but other than that, it appears to be the perfect dress. I continue to look at Aidan who takes a step forward towards me, eyeing my face, ''I'm not saying that this dress is not beautiful on you because it is but all I'm saying is that . . . it's a family gathering and it would be a lot more appropriate if you wear a different dress,'' He says, leaving me nod my head and smile up at him.
He smiles back, ''You can keep the dress but choose a different one to the gathering. How does that sound?'' He asks, lifting my chin up before gesturing for me to get back inside the dressing room in which I just do as told, slowly getting out of the dress once I'm inside.
My eyes wander at the dresses before sighing, not really knowing which one to choose when there's a plenty of them in front of me. The promoter clears her throat, ''Actually . . . there's this one dress. I think it might suit you very well and it might also impress him,'' She walks towards the back, leaving me turn to look in the mirror, once more.
After a couple of minutes, my eyes widen at the dress she is holding. A long rose gold dress which would fit perfectly onto my body, showing off the right amount of curves as it covers my chest and it's also a long-sleeved dress but what makes it more appealing is the back. The dress screams perfection in every way as it is backless, attracting attention.
''Let's give it a try,'' She says.
After staring at myself in the mirror, I quickly peek through the door, seeing Aidan and Dimitri are talking but I can't seem to hear their conversation. Within seconds, I am already walking towards them . . . standing in the middle but neither of them have turned.
As I wait for a couple of seconds, yet I don't seem to be getting any respond from them which causes me to clear my throat. They both turn to look at me and it surprises me to see their expression changes immediately, leaving me tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
''What do you think?'' I ask, turning around to reveal the bare back before looking at them again, seeing a smiling Dimitri and a pleased Aidan.
Dimitri's phone starts to ring which causes him to immediately pick it up, ''I have to take this. I'll meet you guys outside,'' He says before walking out, talking through the phone.
Aidan, on the other hand, is busy eyeing the dress. He takes a few steps towards me as he gazes down at my face for a few more seconds, ''Give us a minute, please.'' He says towards the promoter which nods and leaves the room, immediately.
''Are you worried?'' I ask, as soon as I find us enjoying the silence. ''I mean, about the whole fake marriage thing . . . with your mother. Do you think it'll fail?'' I add, waiting for him to answer as he shakes, nod and shakes his head again.
''I'm not worried about that or about my mother. She will believe us because believe me, I can't remember how many times she has asked me to marry you.'' He replies and we both begin to chuckle, ''I'm just worried about you. This is all about me and you're being a true best friend by helping me but I've never asked you, are you okay with it?'' He adds, silencing me.
We both stare at one another, leaving me playfully place my left hand at the side of his face before pushing it to the side—making his lips curve up into a small smile. Then, I let out a deep sigh, ''Aidan, I've known you for twenty-years and you've done a lot more for me than you think. So, I'm just returning the favour for all the past favours you've done for me,'' I say.
''Besides, what are best friends for? You and I against the world, remember?'' I lift my right hand up, waiting for him to fist-bump me and he does, causing us both to smile again. ''We'll still be best friends even though we're going to be legally married and staying under the same roof but that is not going to come in between us, right?'' I ask.
He smiles, ''Exactly. For once, I'm actually happy I pushed you down the swing or we wouldn't be friends.'' He adds and I playfully push him by the arm, making him laugh.
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