I reach for the dress. It feels cool and soft in my hand. I loop my fingers into the delicate straps and hold it up in front of me. It should be so easy for someone to feel sexy in something so simple and elegant. Feigning confidence, I step into the dress and pull it up, shimmying to manoeuvre it over my hips. I feed my arms through the straps and reach around to pull up the hidden zip. I need to twist my arms uncomfortably, but I manage it and sweep my mousey hair onto one shoulder. Before I have chance to look in the mirror to see the damage, there’s a knock on my door.
“Til? Are you okay? You’ve been ages.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I call through the door. I try to sound cheerful but struggle.
“Have you tried anything on yet?” he asks carefully.
“Yes… I’m wearing one of the dresses now, actually.”
There’s a loaded pause.
“Can I see?” Connor’s voice is gentle, coaxing.
I feel like I can trust him, even with this. I answer before I can change my mind. “Okay.”
The door opens slowly and Connor steps in. His eyes are pointed low, first looking at my bare feet. Shit, I should have put some heels on! My legs are going to look stumpy without them.
But Connor doesn’t focus on my feet for long. His gaze slowly moves upwards, up my legs and pauses for a second on the slit up my left thigh before continuing up. His eyes stop again whenthey reach my chest, the low neckline plunging slightly between my breasts. His eyes roam upwards again, past my exposed collarbone and neck before finally looking me in the eye. His dilated pupils make his usually chocolate brown eyes look black, and I have to admit it looks sexy as hell.
When he doesn’t speak, I start to panic. I’ve humiliated myself by letting him see me in something I have absolutely no business wearing. I shift my legs uncomfortably and try to hide my tummy with my arms. I haven’t had chance to look at myself yet, but I can fully imagine what he’s seeing: I look horrendous.
“You look incredible,” he finally says. “You should definitely wear that one to go out with work.”
“I’m not sure,” I mumble. “It doesn’t fit quite right…”
Connor mutters something to himself, so low I can’t hear him, but I’m too distracted to care. I have to send all of the clothes back. I was stupid to agree to try them.
I should have just stuck with my usual stuff. I rush around the room grabbing the clothes and throwing them into random bags.
“What are you doing?” Connor asks, watching me with concern.
“They need to go back. I can’t wear any of them.”
I finish loading the clothes from the bed into a paper bag and realise how constricted I feel in the fitted dress I’m wearing. My body flushes, suddenly burning hot, and my heart races so fast I expect it to burst at any second. I reach around me to get to the zip but it’s even harder to pull down than it was to pull up, and my clammy hands aren’t helping the situation at all.
You’re disgusting. You don’t deserve nice things.
I bend my arms another way, trying to reach the zip from a different angle, but it’s useless. Panic sets in and the room spins. I have to get out of this fucking dress.
“Tilly, what’s wrong?” Connor’s eyes, back to their usualwarm colour, are wild with worry, but he’s trying his best to keep calm and quiet.
“I just… I have to… I…” My brain shuts down completely then and forming sentences isn’t an option available to me. A tear falls down my face from a mixture of humiliation and fear. I look at Connor, silently pleading with him to help me. “Off!” I manage to say, pointing at my dress.
“You want me to take the dress off?” he asks, running a hand through his wavy hair.
I nod, gasping for air. Just as I think I might pass out, Connor’s behind me and unzips the dress, his warm fingers grazing my back on the way down. He starts to push the straps from my shoulders, but I slap my hand on top of his to stop him.
“Out!” It’s more of a plea than a command. I’m mortified that Connor has seen this much, I don’t want him to see me in my underwear too.
I doubt Connor wants to see that either.
Connor hesitates but backs away towards the door.
“I’ll be just on the other side of the door. Shout me when you’re decent.”
As soon as the door clicks shut, I tear the dress from my body and throw it at the mirror. Unable to bear being exposed, I pull on the nearest leggings and hoodie and collapse, sobbing, onto the floor with my back against the bed.
What was I thinking? I have no business wearing clothes like these. I’m best just blending into the background, drawing no attention to myself.
