My heart beats like I’m mid workout as I take off my clothes, resting the card on the bed, and lift the garment from the tissue. When I slide into the dress, it feels amazing. The natural fabric rests easy against my skin.
The mirror propped against the wall tells me I look as good as the dress feels. It moulds to my body like it’s bespoke.
Finally, I pick up the card to read my instructions, steeling myself for something terrible. But again, there’s nothing bad.
“For school tomorrow. You’re only allowed to wear what’s in the box.”
Well, good. I’ll need some underwear and a bra, but that shouldn’t spoil the line…
Swallowing becomes harder as I reread the card.
What’s in the box. No underwear allowed.
I twist and turn, trying to see if the fabric changes to see-through when I parade in front of the window. The afternoon sun isn’t strong, but the dress appears robust.
A knuckle taps on the door. “I don’t know if you’re trying to punish Finley for some past transgression,” Rosa says with a soft laugh, “but you should know she’s twisting herself into knots right now.”
I peek through the door, holding it at an angle that blocks my body from view.
Rosa frowns. “What’s the problem?”
“Can you… see anything you shouldn’t when I’m wearing this?” I force myself away from the sheltering plywood and twist from side to side.
“Come out,” she says, tugging my hand until I trail behind her into the lounge. Finley claps her hands, then holds them over her mouth while her eyes open wide. “Just to let you know, I’m reconsidering my sexual orientation if this is what the male end of the dating pool gets you.”
“You think it looks okay?” I hug my elbows, feeling more exposed because I can’t pinpoint any problems.
This can’t be it. This can’t be all.
“Are you fishing for compliments?” Finley purses her lips. “Is it enough if I say you look hotter than a million camels baking in the desert?”
“Do camels bake?” Rosa asks with a quizzical smile. “I think of them as being hardy and sunburn resistant.”
“You look beautiful,” Finley clarifies, in case I was still wondering. “Can I get a photo? I’m going to send it to Meg and tell her to up her game.”
“Meg? Who’s this Meg when she’s at home?” Rosa’s laser attention immediately diverts to our roommate. “You told me you were in the middle of a dry spell.”
Finley flaps her hand. “That was then. This is now.”
“That wasone dayago.”
I slink out of the room while they squabble about the difference between withholding secrets and telling outright fibs. I read the card again, turning it over to check there’s nothing more on the back.
Maybe it’s a psychological trick to steal my enjoyment away from wearing such an expensive—and perfect—item of clothing. The moment I have the thought, I dismiss it as rubbish. There’s nothing about Zach that’s subtle and I can’t imagine his plans for torturing me are any different.
In fact, by worrying about it now, all that’s happening is I’m piling on myself, too. Better to let it go. Since I’ll soon discover the plan behind sending me this gift, might as well just let it happen.
Whether or not I fuck around, I’m going to find out.
For a minute, my heart is paralysed, missing Tessa so ferociously that I could sincerely die from the absence. She’d been my stalwart, my confidant; the twin sister I never had.
If she were here, I could tell her everything. Would have done so already. The weight wouldn’t be shared or lesser exactly, but it wouldn’t be as burdensome to shoulder. She would have found the light side of the situation, talked me back from the edge by pointing out… what?
I don’t know.Something. Something only she could find. The bright line in the unpleasant situation. Instead of the loneliness eating me from the inside out.
But I have to push thoughts of her from my mind. Since her suicide, she’s become part of the weight I carry and I’m already bowing under the strain.
I walk back into the lounge, still wearing the dress (albeit with underwear this time.) Might as well get Zach’s money’s worth.
