Free Greatest Distraction (Distracted #1) by Juli Valenti Page A

suitcases, plus two extra bags up the stairs in one trip – I rushed to the rooms on the top floor. Instincts kicked in, and, without a moment’s thought, I entered what I’ll always consider my bedroom. If I’d had more time, I would have jumped on the bed, just for good measure and good memories. Most of my furniture still remained; it had been too much of a hassle to get them to Georgia, and I was happy to see them. Sure, the tickets I used to prop on the vanity were gone, along with kiss marks on the mirror, but I’d expected it to look different. Seeing the same room I remembered warmed me.
    Putting my case s in the closet, I was surprised, once again, to see a black garment bag hanging conspicuously from the closet rod. I flipped on the light, wanting a better look. My jaw hit the floor when I saw the Lanvin logo adorning the bag. Oh, shit. Unzipping the zipper, I found a note plainly labeled Ryen , in Elle’s precise handwriting. Oh no ... what did she do!   I pulled my hands back like the damn thing bit me. Breathing deeply, I reached for the note, grasping it and dropping to the floor, sitting cross legged. I was equally excited to read the note and investigate the bag, as well as terrified over what my friend did and dreading the contents. Biting the bullet, I pulled the small card from its envelope.
    “ Ryen, you just flew to New York with your clothes *folded* and intend to wear one of the items tonight. I thought you could use something *prettily* wrinkled for tonight, instead of stressing to find the steaming iron. Love, E.  - P.S. Look on the shelf.”
    Okay, I was planning to wear one of the dresses in my suitcase. And, if I’m being honest, I was probably going to be running around like a chicken with my head cut off in about ten minutes to find the stupid steamer iron. But, that didn’t ease the anxiety I felt looking at that bag. Something that cost at least four digits was in that bag, something that my best friend purchased for me because she wanted better for me and because she knew me better than I kn ew myself. I really wanted to look on the shelf, but I schooled myself, instead focusing back on the bag just waiting for me.
    Forcing myself to my feet, I stood and moved back toward the gift. Gritting my teeth – what do you want from me, I’m not good with gifts – I zipped the entire thing down, much like you would rip a Band-Aid off. Just get it over with, I chanted in my head. Words could barely describe what I found resting inside.  A gown, the prettiest color of light and dark pink, greeted me.
    No, pretty doesn’t do the garment justice. It was gorgeous . Inspired by Greek style, rouching covered the top and accentuated a jewel-cut top that I knew would accentuate my shoulders. One side had a darker pink ruffle to add a splash of color, the same as the belt that adorned the waist of the dress. Below the belt the chiffon fell to the floor in an elegant trumpet style. It was everything I would have chosen for myself, had I picked it out. The only flaw to the precious dress was the fact that the price tag was still attached. Four thousand, five hundred, and fifty-five dollars. Was that woman crazy?! But it was so soft, and flowy, and silky, and girly. Alright, so every part of girl in me did a little dancing jig, pretending the closet was Saturday Night Fever.
    I stilled my feet, remembering her post script instructing me to look at the shelf. Doing so, I found a white box, complete with a black ribbon. Oh man, I was going to have a heart attack. I knew the brand, had drooled over plenty of them in Elle’s closet while she demanded I buy my own. Yves Saint Laurent. The greatness that awaited me in that box was going to make me squeal like a little girl. Maybe I should wait? NO, shouted the voice in my head, so hypothetically loud that I flinched. I better not be becoming a schizophrenic, the last thing I needed was more noise inside of my head. The minute one of the voices answered