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That didn’t help. “ ‘Don’t panic.’ Wow. I didn’t think of that,” I said. “What great advice. The panic is gone.”

If Seth was someone who rolled his eyes, he’d roll his eyes at me. Instead, he just smiled patiently. “She’ll cry when she sees you in the dress. Out of happiness. Don’t take that away from her.”

Whatever. I still felt like I was defrauding an old couple of their money. “What time is the appointment?”

When he told me, my eyes widened. “Dude, that’s like now.”

“Don’t worry,” Freya said, linking her arm through mine. “I can get us there on time.”

And she did, though it involved throwing ourselves into traffic to beat someone else to a cab, then telling the cabdriver Freya would give him an extra-large tip if he’d stomp on the gas whenever we hit a yellow light. By the time we spilled out of the cab, I was drenched in stress-sweat and my hands were shaking. The perfect combination for trying on fancy dresses.

Freya, on the other hand, continued to look as if she’d never sweated in her life. “Ooh, so exciting,” she said, pausing outside the small glass-front boutique to take a picture. Blank-faced mannequins posed in sequins and stoles in the window. “So what’s this ball you’re going to?”

We entered into a puff of warm air fragrant with the smell of money. When I told the saleswoman who bustled over that I had an appointment in back, she nodded and led me past the clothes on display, which were mostly draped over mannequins like in the window. Did expensive boutiques like this not have racks? Was everything one of a kind?

The thought made me a little queasy, but that was helped by the sparkling water the saleswoman handed us in the back. It reminded me a little bit of the few episodes of Say Yes to the Dress I’d seen, only smaller and less white: curtained changing rooms; round poufs for people to sit on; flattering lighting pouring down over multi-angled mirrors. Freya and I shrugged our coats off to set them on a pouf, but before we could, somebody appeared to whisk them away. Hopefully, to hang in a closet and not to steal.

The saleswoman appeared before me again to shake my hand, a wide smile stretching her bright red lips. “I’m Stephanie, and I’ll be helping you out today. You must be Abby?”

“I am,” I said. Stephanie’s handshake threatened to crush my fingers. “And this is Freya. My…” I wasn’t sure exactly what to call her. She wasn’t quite a friend yet, was she? But saying “my fake boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend” would probably be weird.

Freya jumped in. “I’m Abby’s friend.” True or not, the sentence sent a warm glow spreading through me. First Seth, now Freya. Just look at me, making friends everywhere. If only Connor could see this “frigid bitch” now.

“Great,” Stephanie said. She turned back to me without shaking Freya’s hand. “So you’re looking for a dress for a ball tomorrow night, correct? So you won’t have time to wait for alterations.”

“Correct.”

“So if this is a ball, I assume you’ll want something formal and elegant. Floor-length?”

“Maybe,” I said, having no idea what went into dressing for a ball outside of a Disney movie.

“Any specific design choices or shapes you’re looking for? Colors? Special details or materials?” She cast her eyes down my outfit, which consisted of mom jeans and a black sweater. I did not appreciate the judgment curling the edges of those red, red lips. “Sleeves or sleeveless? Neckline?”

I had no idea what to say to any of that. Maybe this was a huge mistake. I needed Bev here to steer me, to tell me what to do. She would love that. “I don’t know,” I said, taking a step back. “I don’t dress up very much.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Stephanie surveyed my body again. “Probably an A-line or a ball gown, I’m thinking,” she said. “Does that sound okay? Of course, I’ll pull a few other options, too.”

I didn’t even know what those words meant as far as dresses went. I looked to Freya for help. She gave me a nod, so I gave Stephanie a nod back. Freya said, as if extending a hand in aid, “Abby, I’ve mostly seen you wear black? Do you want a black dress?”

“Er,” I said. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“I’m guessing no pastels and nothing too pale. Anything too pale will wash you out anyway,” Stephanie said. “I’ll pull blacks and darker, more vibrant colors. What are you planning on doing with makeup?”

“Uh…”

“I think that’s a good start,” Stephanie chirped. “Let me go fetch some options. What size?”

When she went off into the front of the store, I sank onto the pouf with a sigh. The pouf echoed me. “I have no idea what I’m shopping for. I didn’t even know this brand,” I said. “You should be the one getting a fancy dress for a fancy ball, not me.”

Freya let out a dry laugh. “Trust me, if it were me, Bev would not be paying for it.” She took a seat beside me, on the very edge of the pouf, her tensed legs holding her up. “I don’t know if this ball is new or if I was just not invited when we were dating.” She relaxed, giving me a wry smile. “But it’s fine. I like the dressing up part, not so much the dancing part. I have two left feet.”

“Oh my god, me too,” I said. “I think the last time I danced was at my bat mitzvah, and even that was mostly, like, the Electric Slide and the Chicken Dance. I hope I don’t waltz into the menorah and light the hotel on fire.”

“That would make for a memorable night, at least,” Freya said.

I’d already had a memorable night. The kiss.

As if she could read my mind, Freya’s eyes widened. “You guys kissed, didn’t you?”