Ada, who’s been taking full advantage of K&S’s complimentary champagne service, laughs. “If that’s what it takes to get you into a dress that hot, I’ll stack anabolics all day. Look at yourself, you pretty little fool.”
I glance at the mirror and gasp. The gold beading that screamed ‘Vegas Showgirl’ on the hanger has turned subtly luminous against my skin. The high split makes my legs look endless and the sheer mesh in the neckline somehow gives me full coverage while hoisting my tits higher and rounder than they’ve been since my Year Thirteen formal. An op-tit-cal illusion.
It’s even the right length, a miracle given that I’m six feet tall. Tea-length dresses are my aesthetic by default, but in this floor length ballgown, I look elegant. I look sexy. I look extremely, well,glowy.
“What do you think?” Ada and Mila ask in unison.
I can’t answer. I’m too busy swishing, mesmerized by my reflection. When was the last time I felt this beautiful? Not at my Year Thirteen formal, that’s for sure.Ever?
I want Will to see me in this dress.
The thought comes as clear as a bell. I can see myself gliding into the reunion, the music slowing as a single spotlight catches me. William Upton Sharpe, devastatingly handsome in his dark suit, turns, smiling at me like I’m the only woman in the world...
“Done,” Ada announces. “You just sold yourself a dress, Mila.”
“Fantastic!” Princess Robot-Biceps squeals. “Iknewyou’d love it.”
“Hang on!” I whirl around. “You’re not my sugar daddy, Adalasia. You can’t just?—”
“Buy you a dress that makes you look like a hentai girl? I think you’ll find I can.”
“Hentai girl?” I turn back to the mirror, horrified. “That’s the opposite of what I’m going for!”
“Why? Dudes like hentai. It’s a top porn category.”
“Top porn cate—Ada!” I tug the bodice upward, which only serves to make my tits pop harder. “Not helping.”
“Calm your big, glittery rack. You don’t look like a hentai girl. You look beautiful, and Will Sharpe is going to have an actual pants emergency when he sees you.”
I imagine Will closing his eyes for just a second to try tocopewith the sight of me before crossing the room to take my hand like we’re in a Netflix romance original. Then reality kicks me squarely in my gold-covered butt. There’s no tag on this dress, which means it probably costs as much as running Afterglow for a week and a half.
“We’ve already picked my three allocated outfits,” I tell Ada, but my fingers betray me, running lightly along one shining strap. Now that it’s on, this showstopper dress is also suspiciously comfortable for something that looks held together with sunbeams and prayers.
“You love it, too,” Ada says. “We’re getting it.”
She raises her credit card into the air and Mila grabs it and runs like someone might tackle her.
My traitorous heart leaps and I chew the inside of my cheek. “I really don’t think you should buy it.”
“Yet, I already have,” Ada says over her champagne glass. “Call it a birthday present if that makes you feel better?”
I adjust the skirt so you can’t see ninety percent of my left thigh. Now that it’s mine, this dress feels way too revealing. “Sure. That’s definitely the equivalent of the birthday present I got you last year.”
“Hey! You can’t put a price on a shortbread portrait of me sitting on a dead guy whilst smoking a blunt.”
“I can actually. Thirty bucks, plus delivery.”
Ada rolls her eyes. “I meant yourlove, Cecelia. Your priceless, priceless love.”
I groan. Ada’s always been generous to a fault, but at least Cece the nurse couldoccasionallyreciprocate. Cece the bar owner is forced to lean heavily onhandmade gifts and this past five days Ada’s paid for a salon cut and colour, a vitamin C facial, four sets of lingerie, and eyelash extensions.‘Preparations,’ as Ada calls them, have taken so long, we still haven’t taken any bar photos and she’s still insisting I need a manicure. I need to end the madnessnow.
But I don’t. Instead, I stay on the Kowhai & Silk dais, staring at the stranger in the mirror. Me, in my gold dress glowing like I’ve swallowed a lightbulb.
The girl in front of me doesn’t look like someone people only remember because of her brother, or that time she puked before her oral presentation. She’s someone they’d remember for her own sake. Someoneworthseeing.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll let you buy the dress and I’ll wear it to the reunion. Thank you.”
“Excellent,” Ada says happily. “I thought you were going to make me hide your clothes so you had to wear it home.”
