“Would you prefer to take Jen?” Kat teased.
“No. I’ll do it. One dance,” I promised.
I just hoped I wouldn’t regret it.
***
On Wednesday, I flitted around the sales floor, my insides more tangled than the five-dollar thong bin.
What if Angel wasn’t there? What if he brought that secret admirer?
Or, what if I charmed him and made new friends? What if I twirled and lived my princess dreams on the dance floor with my sister?
Of course, all that spinning in a short, pleated skirt she gave me risked exposing myself to everyone at the bar.
Whenever I bent over at work, I held the white cotton hem so I didn’t flash anyone my polka-dot undies.
If Angel saw those, he’d definitely think I was too sweet. Or too easy. Which was worse?
Scenarios kept fluttering through my mind like petals off a rose.
I was so lost in meringue-scented daydreams that I almost walked right by a customer trying to make eye contact.
“Excuse me,” she said.
I gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry. You have such good posture, I thought you were one of them for a second.” I chuckled, gesturing to the mannequins.
The woman frowned at them. “Headless?”
My laughter wilted. “My mind’s somewhere else today. What can I help you with?”
“I need a new bra. A normal one,” she said reluctantly, pulling at the straps on her sports bra, which showed under her dress.
“‘Normal’ is subjective. Just ask my sister,” I joked.
She tilted her head, and I wanted to fling myself into the thong bins in shame.
What was I saying? She didn’t know my sister.
Somehow, worrying about Angel had cracked me worse than med school.
I switched into a professional mindset. “Would you like a fitting? We can try a few styles to see what suits your needs.”
“Okay,” she said, flipping her sectioned ponytail over her shoulder.
I led her to a dressing room and readied my measuring tape. “Please remove your clothes and put them in the…on the bench.”
Sometimes I still slipped into my hospital script. There weren’t any lockers or exam tables here.
“I can leave if you’d like a minute,” I said.
“It’s fine.” The woman faced the mirror, though she kept her gaze firmly on the left wall and its striped wallpaper as she lifted her top.
Did she not want to see herself?
The fine hairs on my body pricked to attention.
It could be awkward, partially naked with a stranger.
