Amanda says when she sees me trying on a new outfit. She winks at me. I am standing in front of my full body mirror, turning and stretching to see if the dress I bought with the help of her recommendations suits me as well as it did in the store where I bought it. It's a dark red flare dress with lace around its Bardot neckline—nothing I would usually dare to wear, but Amanda convinced me to go for this one and I trust her judgment. “Sickening, huh?” I ask, smiling at her. “Yeah, you’re like a teenage girl,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Head over heels for that guy—and all I told you was to get some fling action!” I chuckle, straightening my dress for the umpteenth time. “That was all I was going for,” I assure her. “How could I have known that he would turn out to be more than just a fling?” She raises her eyebrows. “I’m happy for you, you know that,”
