Chapter 31: The Tank Top
Dana's hands were already at the hem of her shirt before I could process what was happening. One smooth motion and the faded gray t-shirt was over her head, tossed onto the chair in the corner of her bedroom. She kicked off her jeans next, stepping out of them with a practiced wiggle, and there she stood in just a plain beige bra and matching panties, auburn hair mussed from the fabric pulling over her face.
I looked away. Instinctively, my eyes found the lace curtains, the pattern of sunlight on the floorboards, the stack of romance novels on her nightstand. Anywhere but at my friend standing half-dressed in front of me.
"Uh, you okay there, Parker?" Dana's voice carried a note of amusement. "You're staring at my window like there's a bear in the yard."
"It's a nice window," I said, which was the stupidest thing I'd said in weeks.
Dana snorted. She stepped into my line of sight, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. "Something wrong? You look like you've never seen a woman in her underwear before."
The truth sat on the tip of my tongue, heavy and dangerous. I swallowed it down.
"Just not much experience with women changing in front of me," I said, which was truer than she'd ever know.
For a heartbeat, Dana just looked at me. Then she laughed, a warm, rolling sound that filled the small bedroom. "Oh honey, this is what best friends do. We change in front of each other, we borrow each other's clothes, we tell each other everything. You'll get used to it."
I forced a smile and let the tension bleed out of my shoulders. She was right. This was normal. This was what women did with their friends, and I was a woman now, and Dana was my friend.
"Now," Dana said, grabbing the green sweater from the foot of her bed, "help me decide if this is actually as good as I think it is."
She pulled the sweater over her head, and I watched the soft knit settle over her torso. It was a deep forest green, and it brought out the warmth in her auburn hair. She looked nice. She looked like someone Ellis would be lucky to have coffee with.
"That's the one," I said. "Trust me."
Dana smoothed the sweater down and turned to check herself in the small mirror above her dresser. "You really think so?"
"I know so."
She caught my eye in the mirror and grinned. "Okay, your turn. You've been weirdly quiet about your own love life. You and Allan are engaged now, but I barely know how it started. What was your first date like?"
The question landed softer than she probably intended. First date. With Allan. I'd told the story enough times to have it polished, but Dana was asking as a friend, not an investigator. She wanted the real version.
"Three days after I met him," I said, settling onto the edge of her bed. "He'd been helping me with the truck, and the night before our first date, I fell asleep by the fire pit in my yard. He carried me inside to my bed and left a note on my nightstand before he went home."
Dana's eyes went wide. "He carried you to bed? Like, in his arms?"
"Like in his arms. I woke up in the morning with this little handwritten note promising he'd bring pizza over the next day after he got off work."
"That is disgustingly sweet," Dana said. "What did you do?"
"I spent the whole morning cleaning my house like a crazy person." I laughed at the memory. "I vacuumed, I dusted, I rearranged furniture. I was so nervous I didn't know what to do with myself."
Dana perched on the bed beside me, pulling her knees up. "What'd you wear?"
This was the part that still felt strange to say out loud. The part where I'd opened a drawer in my bedroom and found a forest of lacy things I had no memory of choosing, and I'd picked the sexiest one because I wanted to surprise a man I barely knew.
"I found this sundress with a low neckline," I said, keeping my voice light. "And underneath, I wore this lingerie set I, uh, found in my closet. Something lacy. Green, I think."
Dana's jaw dropped. "You wore a sexy lingerie set for pizza?
"It seemed like a good idea at the time!"
Dana burst out laughing, and I couldn't help joining her. It was funny. It was absurd. And it had been real, in a way that still made me catch my breath when I thought about it.
"So he brings the pizza over," Dana prompted, wiping her eyes. "Then what?"
"He gets there, we're eating, and I don't know what I'm doing. I had no idea if this was actually a date or if he was just being nice. So I lit this candle I had on my dining room table, trying to make it feel special. And he sees it, and he looks at me, and he asks, point blank, 'Is this a date?'"
Dana gasped. "No way."
"I froze. I was so embarrassed. But I asked him back, 'Do you want it to be?' And he said yes."
"Sabrina." Dana grabbed my arm. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard."
"After dinner we watched Die Hard on the couch." I felt a smile tug at my lips, soft and involuntary. "Classic Christmas movie, obviously. We were sitting there, pretending to watch, and I was just so aware of him next to me. And then he kissed me."
I remembered it clearly. The weight of his hand on my cheek, the warmth of his mouth, the way my stomach had flipped like I was a teenager. Like I'd known him my whole life instead of three days.
"It was a good kiss," I said, and the words came out quieter than I meant them to.
Dana was quiet for a moment. "I want that," she said finally. "I want someone to carry me to bed and leave notes and kiss me during a movie."
"You'll have it," I told her. "Ellis is a good man. He just needs to see you the way everyone else does."
Dana looked at herself in the mirror again, tugging at the sleeves of the green sweater. "You really think so?"
"I really do."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she grinned at me, bright and hopeful, and I thought how strange it was that I'd found a friend who made me feel like I could tell a story about candlelight and stolen kisses without drowning in the memory of who I used to be.
"Okay," Dana said, standing up. "Help me pick out shoes. I can't wear these sneakers on a date."
I followed her to the closet, and for a little while, I let myself just be a woman helping her friend get ready for love.
"These?" Dana held up a pair of flat brown boots. "Or these?" She gestured at a pair of low-heeled black ankle boots with her foot.
"The black ones," I said. "The green sweater deserves a little height."
She grinned and swapped her sneakers for the boots, stepping into them with a wiggle that made the sweater sway. Then she stood back, hands on her hips, studying herself in the mirror. "Okay. This feels right. This feels like me but, like, a version of me that has her life together."
"That's exactly the vibe you're going for."
Dana turned, biting her lip. "Do you think I should wear something special underneath? Like, just in case things go well?"
The question caught me off guard. I thought of the green lace in my own drawer, the way I'd felt the first time I'd worn it, that secret hum of awareness under cotton and sundress.
"Honestly?" I said. "I wore that lingerie set under my sundress, and I felt like I could do anything. It wasn't for Allan. It was for me. Just knowing it was there made me stand up straighter."
Dana's eyebrows lifted. "Really?"
"Really. It's like armor. But pretty."
She laughed and reached behind her back. In one practiced motion, her bra came undone and slid off her shoulders. Then her panties, shimmying down her hips and pooling at her feet. She stood there, completely naked, hands on her hips, looking at me with a challenge in her eyes.
I felt heat climb up my neck. My eyes darted to the window, to the floorboards, to anything that wasn't the bare skin of my friend.
"Oh my God," Dana said, laughing. "You're blushing. Like, actual red. Sabrina, look at me."
"I'm looking," I said, not looking.
"You are the worst liar I've ever met." She stepped closer, and I could smell her, soap and a hint of vanilla. "It's just a body. It's not like you haven't seen one before."
I forced my gaze to her face. She was smiling, not mocking, just genuinely amused. "I know. I just. It's not something I'm used to."
"Clearly." She reached into her dresser drawer and pulled out a deep burgundy lace bra, the cups sheer, the straps thin and delicate. She held it up. "This is what I was thinking. Too much?"
"No, that's perfect," I managed.
She turned to the mirror and fastened the bra with practiced ease, adjusting the straps, then stepped into matching burgundy panties, pulling them up slow, letting the lace settle against her hips. She caught my eye in the mirror.
"You know what I think?" she said. "I think you need some practice."
"Practice?"
"Changing in front of women. Getting comfortable with your own body around your friends. It's a skill, Sabrina. You can't just avoid it forever."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the truth was, she had a point. I'd spent months in this body, and I still flinched when I caught my reflection, still dressed in the bathroom with the door locked, still felt a jolt of wrongness every time I saw breasts in my peripheral vision.
"Okay," I said, and the word surprised me.
Dana's face lit up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Unless you think it's weird."
"I think it's the most normal thing in the world," she said. "You're my best friend. We're going to be around each other for the rest of our lives. Might as well get the awkwardness out of the way now."
She sat on the edge of the bed, watching me expectantly, and I realized she meant right now, right here, in the middle of her cozy bedroom with sunlight spilling across the floorboards.
My hands found the hem of my olive tank top. I hesitated, and Dana didn't rush me. She just waited, patient, a small smile on her lips.
"It's just a body," I repeated to myself, and I pulled the tank top over my head.
I pulled the tank top over my head and let it fall to the floor beside me. The cool air of the bedroom hit my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. I kept my eyes on Dana's face, not daring to look down at myself.
"Okay," I said. "That wasn't so bad."
Dana tilted her head, a slow grin spreading across her face. "I'm not going to lie, I was not expecting you to actually do it."
"You told me to."
"I know, but I thought you'd chicken out." She laughed, and the sound was warm, not mocking. "You didn't."
My hands went to the waistband of my jeans. The button came undone with a soft pop, and I shimmied the denim down my hips, stepping out of them the way Dana had done moments ago. I was in nothing but my bra and panties now, a simple sage green cotton set that I'd grabbed that morning without thinking.
"Alright," Dana said, her voice dropping into something like approval. "Now you're just showing off."
"I'm really not."
"I know you're not, and somehow that makes it worse." She shook her head, still grinning. "It's not fair, Parker. You look like that and you don't even know it."
I felt the heat in my cheeks again. "I don't look like anything special."
"Uh, honey, I hate to break it to you, but you're gorgeous. And those." She gestured vaguely at my chest. "Those are just ridiculous."
"Dana."
"I'm serious. I've known you for months and I still haven't gotten used to them. It's like they have their own zip code."
I laughed despite myself, the tension in my shoulders loosening a fraction. "That's not a thing people say."
"It is now." She stood up from the bed and crossed the small space between us, stopping just in front of me. "Can I ask you something weird?"
"I think we're past weird."
"Can I touch them?"
The question landed in the quiet air between us. My heart stuttered, but her face was open, curious, entirely without judgment. This was what friends did, I reminded myself. This was normal.
"Sure," I heard myself say.
Dana reached out slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, and when I didn't, her hands settled on the curve of my breasts, cupping them through the cotton of my bra. She held them for a moment, testing their weight, then let out a low whistle.
"Okay, yeah. These are heavy. How do you carry these around all day?"
"I don't really have a choice."
"Do they hurt? Like, your back?"
"Sometimes. By the end of the day, yeah." I was surprised by how easily the words came, how natural it felt to talk about my body like this. "I've been meaning to look into better bras, but the ones that actually fit cost a fortune."
Dana's hands moved, adjusting her grip, feeling the weight of one breast in her palm. "That's wild. I always thought bigger would be better, but these feel like they'd be a workout just to get out of bed in the morning."
"It's not all it's cracked up to be."
"Still." She gave my breast a gentle squeeze, then let her hands drop. "You're lucky. You've got this whole, I don't know, classic thing going on. Like those pin-up girls from old movies."
"Thanks, I think."
"It's a compliment." She stepped back, looking at me with the same appraising eye she'd used on herself in the mirror. "We're going to get you into something that makes you feel as good as you look. That's my mission now."
"I have lingerie," I said, and my voice came out softer than I meant it to. "Allan bought me some, actually."
"He did?"
"After we got engaged. He said he wanted me to have something special." I didn't add that he'd been more nervous giving it to me than I'd ever seen him, or that the deep blue lace still sat in the bottom of my drawer, too lovely to wear for anyone but him.
"That's so sweet." Dana's eyes were soft. "You really love him, don't you?"
"Yeah." The word came easy, truer than anything else I'd said all afternoon. "I really do."
She smiled, and I watched something shift in her expression, a kind of warmth that had nothing to do with teasing. "Good. I'm glad you found him. And I'm glad I found you."
"Me too."
I stood there in my bra and panties, in the warm light of her bedroom, and it felt normal. Not strange, not wrong, just normal. Like this was something I'd done a hundred times before.
"Now," Dana said, turning back to her dresser and pulling out a silky burgundy robe, "let's figure out what I'm going to wear for the after-coffee part of this date, because if it goes well, I am not coming home alone."
She tied the robe with a quick, efficient motion and pulled open her closet door, revealing a modest collection of dresses, skirts, and blouses packed tight on the rod. She pushed hangers aside with practiced fingers, muttering to herself as she assessed each option.
"Okay, so I need something that says 'I'm fun and easygoing' but also 'I have my life together' and maybe a hint of 'I'm not trying too hard' but definitely not 'I stayed up all night thinking about this.'" She pulled out a floral sundress, frowned, and shoved it back. "That one has too many flowers. He'll think I'm going to a picnic."
I sat on the edge of her bed, still in my bra and panties, watching her work. The strangeness of the moment had faded into something almost comfortable, two women shoulder to shoulder in the warm afternoon light, sorting through the complicated business of wanting to be wanted.
"What about this?" She held up a dusty rose wrap dress, the fabric soft and fluid. "Too much?"
"Too much for coffee, maybe. But for after coffee?" I raised my eyebrows. "That's a whole different conversation."
Dana grinned and hung it on the closet door hook. "Okay, that one goes in the 'if things go well' pile." She turned back to the closet, pushing more hangers. "Speaking of things going well, I've been dying to ask you something, and I feel like we're past the point of being polite about it."
"Ask me anything."
"How's the sex with Allan?"
The question hit me like a bucket of cold water. I blinked, and I could feel the heat rushing to my face before I could stop it. Dana caught my expression and laughed.
"Okay, that face is not the face of someone having amazing sex."
"It's not that," I said, too quickly. "It's just. We're not. We haven't."
Dana stopped, a hanger frozen in her hand. "You haven't what?"
"Haven't. You know." I gestured vaguely, hoping she'd fill in the blanks.
"You haven't had sex?" Her voice pitched up in disbelief. "But you guys are engaged. You've been together for months. He stayed over that one time, I thought, I mean, I just assumed."
"He stays over sometimes. We share a bed. But we haven't, like, actually." I picked at a loose thread on the quilt beneath me. "Allan's been saving himself for marriage."
Dana's mouth opened, then closed. She set the hanger down slowly, like it was made of glass, and sat on the bed across from me. "Wait. He's a virgin?"
"Yeah."
"And you're a..."
"I've never done it either," I said, and the lie felt like a stone in my mouth. Because Justin had. Plenty of times, with women whose names I could barely remember, in apartments and hotels and once in an office supply closet that I still thought about with a mix of shame and amusement. But Sabrina hadn't. Sabrina had no history at all.
"Wow." Dana leaned back, processing. "I didn't think guys like that existed anymore. I mean, I know Ellis is old-fashioned, but Allan's, like, actually waiting?"
"He said it's important to him. That he wants our first time to be on our wedding night. That he wants it to mean something."
"That's so romantic," Dana said, and there was genuine wonder in her voice. "But also, like, how do you handle the waiting? Aren't you going crazy?"
I thought about the nights in Allan's arms, his body warm against mine, his hand drifting in his sleep. The way he'd kiss me goodnight and pull back, always pulling back, his breathing ragged but his intentions steady.
"It's hard," I admitted. "Sometimes I wish he'd just, you know, give in. But I also respect him for it. It's not easy to wait when everyone else isn't."
"Do you ever try to, like, push him? You know, test his resolve?"
"He's the one who tested his own resolve." I smiled at the memory. "Early on, before things got serious, he told me he was saving himself. He said he wanted to be upfront so I could walk away if it was a dealbreaker."
"And you stayed."
"I stayed. Because it's not about the sex." The words felt true, even though they came from a mouth that had lived a whole other life. "It's about him. Who he is. That he'd tell me something like that even though it might scare me off. That means more than a night in bed ever could."
Dana was quiet for a long moment. Then she leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and looked at me with those warm, appraising eyes.
"Can I ask you something else?"
"Sure."
"Are you scared?"
The question landed deeper than she probably meant it to. Scared. I was scared of so many things, the list was practically endless. I was scared of my own body, of the shadow of the man I used to be, of the men who might still be looking for him. But she meant something narrower.
"Scared of the wedding night?"
"Yeah. I mean, you've never done it, he's never done it, you're both going into this blind. That's got to be terrifying."
"I don't know if scared is the right word." I turned the thought over in my head. "Nervous, sure. I don't know what it's going to be like. But I trust him. And I know he loves me. I think that's enough."
"You know," Dana said, a sly smile creeping onto her face, "I've got some, uh, educational materials, if you want to do some studying before the big night."
"Dana."
"I'm serious. There's a whole stash in my nightstand. Tasteful stuff, not weird. Well, some of it's weird, but you can skip those."
"I'll think about it."
"Think fast, 'cause wedding's gonna be here before you know it."
I laughed and shook my head. "Let's focus on getting you ready for tomorrow first. One crisis at a time."
"Fair enough." She stood and turned back to the closet, pulling out a burgundy blouse with a low neckline. "Okay, what about this for the actual date?"
I looked at the blouse, then at her green sweater laid across the chair. "I thought you were going with the sweater."
"The sweater's for the daytime part. This is for the part where he asks if I want to get dinner." She winked. "You only get one first impression, Parker. I'm making it count."