Page 21 of Breaking the Ice

“Like, pretend to be her?” He waves his hands up and down my body. “Become her?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I take out everything that I, Isabella, would think or feel, and then I replace it with Cecily. She’s eighteen, super sheltered, with these grand romantic dreams. Of course she falls instantly in love with the first eligible guy she meets.”

“But isn’t that⁠—”

“Oh, Isabella, I’m glad I found you!” Grace, one of our costume designers, startles me as she bursts onto the stage, and I scramble up. For someone who is petite, she has Big Designer Energy. “I saw you were signed up to be in the auditorium at this time, so I thought I’d have you try on one of Cecily’s dresses.”

“Sure.” I glance at Evan. “You don’t have to stay, I don’t want to waste your time.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet and smiles. “And miss seeing you in costume? I don’t think so.”

For some reason, his words make my cheeks heat, and I stare at the cracks between the boards of the stage until I get ahold of myself.

We troop after Grace, through the bowls of the backstage area, until we get to the sewing room. She tosses me a dress, and I scurry behind a privacy screen.

I’m fumbling with layers of crinoline as Grace’s phone rings. “Oh, shoot. I have to take this. Get dressed, Isabella, and I’ll check back.”

“Okay.” My speech comes out muffled, drowning in fabric. “That’s fine.”

But it’s not fine. I can’t get myself into this ridiculous costume—which will pose a huge problem backstage when I have to do a quick change. I need to see if Grace can add elastic or a zipper or something. For now, I groan as I try to reach both hands across my back and button it up.

“Um, are you okay?” Evan asks, voice hesitant.

“Ugh, no. I’m stuck in a Victorian prison.” These buttons are so tiny, and I can’t reach all of them. Who would ever design a dress this way? My arms ache from the struggle.

“Huh?”

I sigh, and come out from behind the screen, clutching the bodice to my chest. What choice do I have? “Thank god I don’t have to wear a corset. This is torture enough. Can you button me up?”

Evan’s throat bobs in a swallow. “Sure.”

I turn, still holding my dress up. What I don’t anticipate is how his fingers will feel, brushing against my bare skin. I shiver, then flush. How can I be both cold and hot at the same time? My blood rushes through my veins, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears. It’s so quiet in the dressing room, I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it.

“Um,” I say to try to fill the silence. Does he feel as awkward as I do? “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” His words come out rusty, the way he probably sounds after just waking up in the morning. All sleep-rumpled and warm, staring at me with bedroom eyes from the other side of the pillow. Is he a cuddler?

If possible, my body gets even hotter. Stop it, Isabella. He will never be in your bed.

The fabric pulls together, and the cool air disappears. It’s both a relief and a sadness when his fingers stop moving down my spine. He pats my back like I’m a good dog. “There. All done.”

Excellent. Glad to know the attraction I feel is totally one-sided. I take a deep breath, filling out the dress. Is it too low-cut? I don’t want a boob to fall out during the performance.

Grace bustles back onto the stage, clapping her hands. Her shoulder-length curly hair vibrates with her enthusiasm, and her brown eyes dance. “It looks excellent on you! Don’t you think?”

She eyes Evan, and I spin to look at him. His face is red and he coughs. “Um, yeah. Uh-huh. I think it fits.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, twirling a little.

He nods, looking like a bobble-head, but doesn’t say anything.

“Are you sure it’s not…too much? Cecily is supposed to be modest and demure, almost virginal. Am I giving harlot vibes?”

Grace taps her chin. “Hmm, you might be right. I can add some lace, maybe?”

“And how about a zipper so I can get dressed myself?” I ask, trying to gesture to my backside. “The buttons are nearly impossible.”

Grace laughs. “You don’t want to be stuck in this get-up forever?”