“Do I look like someone who is unfashionable?” James asks.
We wear uniforms at school, so I don’t know most of our classmates’ style. Though I guess I can surmise James’s taste based on his favorite sweater. It’s a good sweater. If Jeffrey wasn’t here my response would be teasing. But he is. Therefore, my tone is biting when I say, “Yes. That’s exactly how you look.”
“Farren needs to get her bridesmaid dress altered while we can,” Shelly supplies.
“You wouldn’t want to waste your time with that,” I prod James.
“I don’t mind. Actually—” James looks to Jeffrey. “I need to buy my groomsman suit, right?”
Jeffrey smiles. “Yes. Correct.”
“Groomsman?” I look to James and then Jeffrey. When neither contradict my question, horror akin to when James first appeared on the sanctuary floods me.
“James is going to walk you down the aisle, so you don’t have to be by yourself,” Shelly clarifies. “Evens out the numbers since both my girls will be coming into town and Jeffrey refused to make more than two friends in school.”
“Hey, I could argue Farren was my friend first.” Jeffrey motions to himself. “She could be on my side.”
“Take her from me and you’ll lose a finger,” Shelly says sweetly, but with a hard edge like she would do it.
I can’t take this cute banter. Not when they haven’t explained the most ludicrous of notions that James will be walking me down the aisle. “But…” I swivel to Jeffrey since Shelly seems too happy about this, and I don’t dare contradict her. “If you need another man, wouldn’t my dad be a better option?”
“Farren, your dad is walkingmedown the aisle, remember?” Shelly says.
Damn it. I knew that. Of course I knew that. Shelly’s parents passed away when she was thirteen, before she moved in with her grandmother. My parents like to joke they possess some parental rights since Shelly wandered onto the sanctuary a week after arriving and never left. He’d never admit it, but Dad would be so hurt if he wasn’t asked for the honor. “I’m sure you can get someone else. You’ve only known James for a few weeks,” I tell Jeffrey.
“Yeah, and we’re friends. Nothing connects people more than mucking out dragon stalls together.” Jeffrey claps James on the shoulder like good friends might.
As I flounder for another objection, Jeffrey leans in close. “Shelly wants equal numbers. So, she’ll get equal numbers.”
A mean joke bubbles on my tongue about James ruining the aesthetic of the wedding party or even questioning why Jeffrey couldn’t find anyone better. I almost say one of the two to conceal my real feelings. But, like Jeffrey, Shelly’s happiness means everything to me. And, if I’ve learned anything inthe last few days about pretending to hate James, if I protest too much it comes off as denial. Which is why I’m assuming Shelly smirks at me now, primed for me to say something she’ll dissect later to prove I’m lying to myself about my feelings. Which I am, but she doesn’t need to know that.
This is entertaining for them both. Watching me squirm at the idea of James basically being my plus-one is a fun joke. And it’s working since it’s their special day and I don’t dare refute them. Damn them.
“Fine. But you can’t force me to be happy about it. And I’m not dancing with him.”
James scoffs as if the feeling’s mutual. I’ve also come to learn the sound is meant to seem disapproving and elitist. It does its job since I’ve only recently realized it is his main comeback when anyone insinuates we’re friends.
Just like that, we are on our way to town together to pick out coordinating outfits. A part of me, a silly part, cheers at the prospect of being James Murphy’s date to a wedding.
The town center of Forsen remains boisterous and shiny. From a distance it’s a splendor of rippling buildings encircling a hill so tall I’m not sure it wouldn’t be defined as a mountain. However, up close the splendor dulls. Here, summer heat stifles. Dust always seems to be sprayed into the air even though every road has been cobbled or paved.
While one might be able to spot dragons flying overhead, legally they aren’t allowed to ground in Forsen’s central streets anymore. Cars and trollies replaced dragons for transport years ago. Getting a license to drive and the money to afford a car are both more reasonable for the vast majority. Plus, cars don’t bite.
We head to Mrs. Healy’s tailor shop first. From outside, the stout structure and cream awnings shout “quaint.” Inside, fabric rains down from the ceiling in gorgeous chaos. Florals, metallics, and embroidery all have their separate sections.
They make me change first, my outfit ready upon arrival. The owner is a skilled seamstress, a kind woman with dark skin and a large bun, and shehelps me put the dress on. Yards of sparkling purple fabric fall to my feet. The bodice shimmers like Feyling light with off-the-shoulder sleeves that cut inward and look like baby dragon wings.
“Farren? How is it?” Shelly calls through the curtain.
“It’s great. There are just some places it needs to be taken in a little.” I refuse to shout that my chest is too small to fill out the neckline. Some embarrassments are better left unsaid.
“Let us see.”
I step out of the dressing room, cupping the bodice with my hands. This dress falling to my waist in front of James or Jeffrey would kill me.
I do spin, though, giving her the full effect. The sparkles glint. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful,” Shelly answers before swiveling to James. “What do you think, James?”
