“Yo!” I called across the store and held it up for her. Eliza and two other women shook their heads at me.

“That’s a slip, Nick. No.”

“Your loss. That would have been great.” I immediately spotted another. “Hey, what about this one?”

Eliza came over. “Nicholas James Maguire. Behave. That dress would leave everything hanging out. But you already knew that.” She wasn’t scolding me, though. More like wishing it had been anyone other than me who’d driven her that day. “Nick,” she added, “If you do a good job, I’ll buy you a treat later.”

“Like a prize?” Smart girl. “What kind of prize?”

“Anything you want.” At that, she turned and went back to looking for dresses. Anything I wanted. Outstanding.

However, she could not have been clearer: she didn’t trust me to pick out a good dress. Challenge accepted.

When Eliza found me again, purple, gold, blue, and red fabric dripped over her arms. Those were supposed to be dresses?

“Ready?” she asked.

Was I ever. “I got you some more. I didn’t know your size, though. I got a couple of different ones.” I handed her the hangers I’d collected, with short, sparkly dresses and long, dark ones. I’d clearly stuck to a theme.

“These are actually . . .” She thumbed through them, nodding with appreciation. “These are great. Thanks, buddy. Nice work.”

“It was nothing, really.”

Eliza punched my shoulder. “Get over yourself.”

“Never.”

She led me to the dressing room, and I sat on the bench outside that dug into my butt.

“This is like one of those scenes in a rom-com, huh?”

“What?” I didn’t know what any of those words meant.

“A rom-com,” she called back. A rustling came from inside the dressing room—the sound of a woman struggling with her clothes. All of a sudden, the nearby flyer about food court smoothies seemed especially interesting.

“Like either the girl tries on stuff with her supernerdy, wacky best friend to get ready for some dance, and there’s a pop-song montage over it, or she tries on stuff with the future love interest, and there’s nothing there yet, but it’s the exact moment when he falls in love with her.

“You know.” The door clicked open. Reading about mango-pineapple deliciousness would have to wait. “27 Dresses, A Cinderella Story, The Duff . . .”

She wore a long, yellow dress that followed every curve she had.

Oh boy.

“I’d be like the nerd, right?”

Eliza laughed. “You think you’d be my best friend?”

I put my hand on my heart, pretending to be wounded. “Right in the chest.”

She twirled.

“I like it. Final verdict: a solid seven out of ten.”

Eliza studied her reflection. “You know, you’re right. This is a seven.” She stalked back to the dressing room.

“How do I sign up to judge Project Runway?” I called. “Think I have what it takes?”

“I don’t think anyone has what it takes,” she shouted.

The next time she came out, she wore a dark blue dress with some lace stuff and straps that wrapped around her shoulders.