Free Enslaved (The Inbetween Novels) by R.C. Murphy

date.
    She’d lost her ever-loving mind.
    Shayla stared at the row of dresses hanging in her closet. Frustrated, she wrapped her arms around the lot of them and hoisted the dresses off the closet rod. She stumbled to the side of her bed and sorted through the last bits of clothing she hadn’t already rejected for her date with Deryck.
    “No, no. All wrong.” Three dresses went onto the reject pile. “Ugly as sin.” Another dress joined the pile. “Why the hell do I even own this?”
    Shayla crumpled up the last dress and flung it out into the hallway. Brightly colored flowers streaked through the air and caught on the doorknob. It hung there, a hideous flag reminding Shayla her taste in clothes was as bad, if not worse, than her taste in men.
    She doubled back into the closet and pulled open the drawers lining one wall. Cartoon characters smiled cheerfully at her from one. She slammed it shut. Pajama pants and oversized dorm shirts overflowed out of the two remaining drawers. Yeah, she’d make a nice impression if she showed up looking like she had a midterm to cram for and couldn’t be bothered to put on real clothes before stepping into public.
    He’s already seen you in your pajamas. Shayla rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand, still unsure if Deryck had really been in front of her house that day, or if she’d imagined it. He vanished so suddenly; she’d nearly convinced herself she imagined the whole thing.
    “Must have been leftovers from a dream.”
    Sighing, Shayla pulled her cell phone out of her pants pocket. She kicked clothes aside to a clear patch on the floor of her closet and sat, leaning against the wall. Her fingers punched in a number she knew as well as her own and prayed Kelly picked up her phone.
    “Is the world ending, Shayla?”
    She frowned at Kelly’s tone. “Uh, no?”
    “Did someone light your house on fire?”
    “No, everything is fine with the house.”
    “Then, why the hell are you calling me in the middle of the night if it isn’t an emergency?” Sheets rustled through the phone.
    Shayla cringed. Shit. “What time is it?”
    “Late enough that I’m going to make you buy my coffee at work in the morning. Now, tell me why you called before I pass out again.”
    She dropped her head against the wall hard enough to make the sound echo though the closet. “I’m sorry, Kelly.”
    “Don’t be sorry, be chatty. Obviously something upset you. Normally you’d be comatose hours ago. Is it the nightmares again?”
    Regret reared its ugly head. Shayla squashed it. Talking about the nightmares had been stupid, but she thought if she got everything out of her head, they’d stop. They hadn’t. Her dreams weren’t why she called, though.
    “No, no nightmare tonight . . . unless you consider my complete lack of decent clothing a nightmare. I ripped through my closet and dresser, there’s nothing for me to wear on my date with this guy that isn’t ugly, ten years out of style, too big, too small, or worn out. How the hell have I managed this long without nice-looking clothes?” Shayla took a breath and rubbed her forehead. “I mean, it’s not like I’m hurting for money after this last raise, right? Why the hell haven’t I—“
    “Shayla—”
    “—and bought a dress that doesn’t fit over my ass and hips like a burlap sack. No wonder I haven’t had any dat—“
    “Shayla!”
    Startled, Shayla dropped the phone in her lap. She retrieved it. “What?”
    “You called me at two o’clock in the morning to bitch about the fact that you don’t have clothes to wear for a date three days away?” Kelly yawned.
    Feeling guilty, Shayla crawled over to the closet doorway and looked at the clock on her nightstand. Kelly was right; it was far too late at night to discuss a wardrobe crisis. She sat back against the doorframe.
    “I’m sorry. Time got away from me. Go back to sleep.”
    Kelly laughed. “I’ll try. Look, we’ll go shopping sometime this week and take