I turn toward the door and open it. This time, I walk away from him.

Two Years Later.

42

Lark

“I think the blue dress is pretty, but the red reads sexy doctor alert.”

“Amanda,” I whisper, “my dad is in the next room. The last thing he wants to hear about is his daughter being sexy.”

She stands from the bed, glancing from the door back to me. “He’s going to hear about it eventually because you, my friend, are smokin’ hot.” She touches the tip of her finger to her ass and sizzles. “Pure fire.”

I can’t stop laughing. “You need to visit more often. You’re good for my self-esteem.” I give in to the fun and wiggle my hips. I look in the mirror, running my hands over my hips where the curve is more pronounced. My breasts are a little fuller. My hair, just below my shoulder blades, is longer than I’ve worn it since I was little.

The skintight dress doesn’t allow me to hide any flaws. I could have slipped on shapewear to flatten my stomach, but I don’t mind the natural shape. Amanda’s right. I smile, staring back at not only the doctor I’ve become, but I do look like pure fire.

“You talked me into it. I’m going with the red.” This is a nice departure from my usual uniform of a sweatshirt and leggings. I’m glad I splurged . . . well, bought it with one of the gift cards. Wearing this dress does make me feel sexy and a little bad under the good-girl graduation gown.

“Wise choice.” Walking toward the bedroom door, she says, “We’re heading over to the auditorium. I want a good seat so I can see.”

“Don’t stress about it. You see me all the time.”

“Who says I was talking about seeing you? I’m going to be in a room full of doctors. I bet a few cuties are looking for a girlfriend.”

I laugh as I go back into the bathroom for one last touch-up. “Geez, thanks,” I tease. I lean in and then grab a washrag. Amanda said I needed to look the part of a doctor, but judging by how heavy she layered on the makeup, I think she’s confusing nightclubbing with making hospital rounds. I tone it down just a little to find more of me under it all.

I slip on my heels, then dig through my small bag as I walk into the living room. “I can’t fit much in here. Look, my phone and lip gloss. That’s about it.”

“Umm, Lark.”

“What is it?” I dig my ID out of my wallet, then one of the gift cards I’ve been spoiled with the last four years, shoving them both in my crossbody purse. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to rely on that money, but it served its purpose, which I assume was to make my life a little easier. I didn’t need to get a job or skip buying a book that I needed to study. I’ve also saved half of the cards. One day, I’ll give them back, fully loaded again.