I smirk, pushing off from the wall and taking a step closer to the changing room. "Well, Tank clearly calls you 'Sweetness,' so we've got to be creative now." I wink at her. "What do you need help with?"
She opens the door wider, turning to show me her back. She's holding the front of the dress against her chest, but the backhangs open, the zipper clearly stuck somewhere around her mid-spine.
"Zipper!" she announces, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
But I'm not looking at the zipper.
I'm looking at her back. At the smooth expanse of skin interrupted only by the strap of her bra and the ridge of her spine. At the obvious definition of muscles that speak to someone who takes care of herself physically—not gym-bunny muscles, but the kind of lean strength that comes from actual activity. From living.
And at the tattoo.
It's an intricate piece that spans her shoulder blade and curves down toward her ribs—a swirling mass of flowers and thorns and what looks like a phoenix rising from flames. The colors are vivid despite clearly being a few years old: deep reds and burnt oranges and blacks so dark they seem to absorb the light.
A phoenix. Rising from ashes. Being reborn from destruction.
Yeah. That tracks.
"Eliassssss."
Her voice drags me back to reality, and I realize I've been standing there staring like an idiot for way too long.
"Sorry," I say, though I'm not really sorry at all. "I was distracted by perfection."
She blushes—I can see the pink creeping up the back of her neck—and snickers. "Stop being distracted and help a damsel in distress!"
"Oh?" I step closer, close enough that I can smell her scent mixing with the lavender and aged fabric of the shop. Cinnamon sugar and dark vanilla and that soft amber that seems to deepenwhen she's flustered. "Are we going to ignite our own Bridgerton love story?"
She actually gawks at me, twisting to look over her shoulder with an expression of pure shock. "Don't tell me you actually watched it."
I shrug, reaching out to grip the bottom part of the dress and test if it'll close without too much of a fight. The fabric is soft under my fingers—some kind of velvet, maybe, or a very high-quality cotton. "If I said I did, would you call me cringe?"
"Hell no!" She sounds genuinely excited now. "I'd ask what season you've watched, because I've only reached four, so you have to wait for me to catch up."
She watches Bridgerton. She makes incredible coffee. She has a phoenix tattoo and gothic taste in fashion and a loyalty streak that most people would kill for.
This woman is a fucking treasure, and I'm increasingly annoyed that her ex-pack was too stupid to see it.
"Ahh, the Cinderella arc," I say, working the zipper slowly up her back. The teeth catch on the fabric for a moment before sliding smoothly.
She squeals and spins around before I can finish zipping, pressing her finger to my lips with an urgency that makes me freeze.
"Don't say a thing!" Her eyes are wide, pleading. "No spoilers. I mean it."
I chuckle against her finger, watching as the blush on her cheeks deepens. My eyes soften, and I do something I probably shouldn't—I press a kiss to her fingertip.
She goes redder. So red it's spreading to her ears.
"I'll save my season four virginity for you, then, Sweet Rebel," I murmur against her skin.
She yanks her hand back like she's been burned, huffing and crossing her arms. "Never mind! You're annoying me. Go away."
I laugh—can't help it. She's adorable when she's flustered. "I'll be good. Sorry." I hold up my hands in mock surrender. "Let me at least help you finish with the zipper."
She huffs again but spins back around, presenting her back to me once more. I close the remaining distance and finish pulling the zipper up, the metal teeth sliding into place with a soft click.
She turns to admire herself in the full-length mirror mounted on the changing room wall, and I watch her expression transform. The defensive huff fades into something softer. Something genuinely pleased.
"This is my favorite," she announces, doing a little spin that makes the skirt flare out around her knees. "This is definitely my favorite."
