"This," he says, certainty in every word. "This will look amazing on you."
I look at the dress. It's beautiful. Bold. The kind of dress that demands attention, that announces confidence I don't actually feel.
"I don't know," I start, already finding reasons to refuse.
"Try it on." His voice leaves no room for argument, the command gentle but absolute.
I take the dress, the fabric soft and substantial in my hands. Head to the fitting rooms with my heart pounding against my ribs.
The saleswoman directs me to a large room at the back, private and expensive, with a full-length mirror and flattering lighting that makes everyone look better than they actually are.
I close the door. Lock it with trembling fingers.
The dress is gorgeous up close, the fabric impossibly soft, luxurious in a way I've never experienced. I strip down to my panties. The dress is strapless so I take off the bra as well, leaving me exposed in a way that makes me feel vulnerable.
I step into it carefully, pull it up over my hips, reach behind me for the zipper.
It won't go all the way up.
I try again, stretching my arm back at an awkward angle, pulling harder, willing the zipper to move.
Nothing. It's stuck. Too small. The fabric pulls across my back, gaps where it should lie flat, proof that I don't fit. That I never fit.
My chest tightens, that familiar feeling of not being enough rising up to choke me. Not measuring up to a standard I'll never reach no matter how hard I try.
I wish I was thinner. The thought comes automatic, practiced, worn smooth by repetition.
A knock on the door startles me out of the spiral.
"Let me see," Erion's voice comes through the wood, muffled but close.
I open the door just a crack, trying to keep it together, trying not to let him see how close I am to falling apart over something as stupid as a dress that doesn't fit. The shame burns hot in my chest, spreading outward until I feel it everywhere.
"I need a bigger size," I call back, trying to keep my voice steady, trying not to sound as defeated as I feel.
The door pushes open before I can stop it.
Erion steps inside, fills the small space with his presence, closes the door behind him with deliberate care. The lock clicks, sealing us in together.
He holds my face in his hands, palms warm against my cheeks, fingers gentle as they tilt my chin up. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing." I try to smile, try to deflect, try to minimize what I'm feeling into something manageable. "It's silly. I just wish the dress would fit. I wish I was thinner."
His expression changes. Goes intense. Focused entirely on me in a way that makes it impossible to look away.
He turns me to face the mirror, positions himself behind me, his body a solid presence at my back. His hands find my hair, gently pushing it to one side, exposing my neck with careful deliberation.
He leans down, presses a kiss to the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, lips warm and soft and entirely unexpected.
I feel it everywhere. That kiss. Like electricity shooting straight down my spine to settle between my legs, heat pooling low and insistent.
His eyes find mine in the mirror, hold them with intensity that steals my breath. "You're beautiful just the way you are."
With his gaze still locked on mine, he starts to push the dress zipper down instead of up, slowly, dragging his knuckles alongmy spine with each inch of fabric that gives way. The touch is deliberate, possessive, claiming.
I'm trembling, every nerve ending alive and hypersensitive.
The dress falls, pools at my feet in a whisper of expensive fabric.
