Chloe sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the clothes scattered across her room. Her closet door was wide open, hangers twisted in different directions. Dresses, skirts, jackets, and tops were everywhere—on her bed, on the floor, even draped over the back of her chair.
She had already changed outfits four times.
And now, as the clock came closer to seven, her heart could only beat faster.
"What am I even doing?" she muttered under her breath, running her fingers through her hair in frustration.
"It's just dinner. A normal one. It's not even a date!" She scolded herself.
She had been to dinners before. Plenty of them. Some with important CEOs, their children, and others with charity organizers. She had worn heels and practiced her smiles in the mirror.
She knew how to talk, how to charm, how to nod politely when someone went on about their success.
But this… was different.
And that scared her.
