Page 46

46

PENNY

Stomping into the changing room, I slam the door shut behind me, fully expecting to be in a normal curtained cubicle like you’d find in any other shop. But I’m faced with a room big enough to fit a double bed in, with ceiling to floor mirrors covering the walls. A plush chaise lounge is in the corner and a few dresses hang on the rail next to it. What the hell am I doing here?

For the second time in a month, I’m in the city, flying in on a private jet, without a cent leaving my bank. This isn’t real life. I shouldn’t be living the highlife when in a few months I’ll be unemployed, eating Ramen and living off my savings.

I could kill Angie. The day after Christmas, she came to me in panic mode about this damn gala. The same gala I was trying to get out of going to since my boss/boyfriend decided to try and save me again and then tell me he loved me before stomping off. But now she’s going, so I can't back out at all.

I turn my attention to the sparkly black dress I saw on the shop floor and run my hands over the delicate lace and small diamante beads. It’s stunning, and has no price tag. Which means it costs more than my rent. And once again, because of Angie, I can’t complain about it because, and I quote, “Jenson is buying my dress and Ben is buying yours. Get over it and stop pouting.”

I can’t prove it, but I know she’s cooked this up with Ben so I have a gown that’s adequate without having to break my bank account open. It’s another way for him to swoop in and save me when I don’t need saving.

Quickly discarding my clothes, I drag the black dress from the hanger and pull it on my body. It has a zipper at the back, so, holding it against my chest, I open the door expecting to find Angie, but a young shop attendant is there instead. “Oh, sorry. I was just looking for my friend to help me with the zipper.”

She offers me a big wide smile that shows me most of her teeth, and her green eyes shine. “That’s what I’m here for. It's all part of the service. May I?” She motions for me to go back into my room and follows after me. She does the zipper up and looks at my reflection over my shoulder. “Hmmmm, I think we can do better. What do you think?”

I let my gaze scan over my body, and while the dress is beautiful, it does nothing for me. The poofy skirt hides my figure and the corset top just highlights my lack of cleavage. “I agree. Um, have you got something that’s a little bit?—”

“Sexier?” Her interruption makes me laugh, and she breathes a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry. I have a bad habit of interrupting, but I think you need sexy. Should we ask your friend?”

I nod through my laughter as we head out into the wide ‘viewing’ room. Angie comes out simultaneously, dressed in a midnight blue dress that looks like it's been sculpted to her body. My jaw drops.

“I know. This is the one.” She lets her eyes trail over me and her lips turn down in disgust. “That is not. Next!” she bellows loudly, and the assistant with her—a middle aged woman with a sour expression on her face—turns her nose up haughtily. Angie ignores her, of course, keeping her eyes on me.

My assistant bounces on her toes “I think I have the perfect dress for you. Can I go and grab it?”

I sigh loudly. “I have another four dresses in the changing room.”

Angie’s hand is on her hip when she hits me with a challenging look. “Yeah, but if that monstrosity is anything to go by, you’ve picked out some awful ones.”

Okay, so I may have stuck with dresses that cover a lot more flesh, and ones I thought would come with a less expensive price tag, but…

“Fine. Go get the damn dress.”

Angie squeals in excitement, and my assistant hurries out of the viewing room as Angie heads back into her room to change. I do the same, standing awkwardly in the mirrored room in just my underwear.

A small cluster of fingertip shaped bruises on my hip catch my attention and my thoughts fly to Ben. I haven’t really spoken to him since our blow out. He’s back to emailing me in the morning about work and has sent a few texts, but nothing about that night. It’s like it didn’t happen. But I know it did.

I’m the kind of person who looks after the people I love. It’s who I am.

The words float through my memory and goosebumps flow over my body. The people he loves. I’m one of those people. And he wants to look after me. Wants me to trust him enough to let him. And I want to. My heart’s begging me to let him, but my head won’t switch off.

That little voice in the back of my mind keeps butting in, telling me I need to be cautious. That eventually all of this will come to an end. I need to protect myself. He spent years ignoring me, keeping me at a distance, and now he’s all in. And I’m terrified.

Neither of us have had good role models to base our relationships on. His mom was a golddigger and mine a drunken lush. I don’t want to end up like either of them, and I certainly don’t want to deal with the fallout when everyone finds out we’re dating, and then when we’re not.

But I do love him. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. He makes me feel safe, protected and cherished, and I think the real reason I don’t want to go into this fully is because I’ll like it all too much.

I’ve been reliant on myself for as long as I can remember. My dad did a great job in raising me, but he was absent for a lot of the time, working to provide for the both of us. What if I get so swept away in feeling safe, that when it’s taken away from me, I won’t remember how to look after myself anymore?

“Knock knock.” The attendant is back, and I force a smile on my face as she enters the room carrying two dresses. A golden gown is draped over her arm and her other hand holds a fire engine red number. Instinctively, my eyes land on the red, and her smile lets me know this was the dress she wanted me to see.

“Now I know this one is beautiful,”—she holds up the gold one and hangs it on the dress rack—“but the red is…” She holds her fingers to her lips and mimics a chef's kiss.

“Fine, I'll try that one.” I hold my hands out for it but she shakes her head.

“Um, you’ll need to take your bra off. This baby is backless.”

Mumbling, “Of course it is,” under my breath, I quickly swipe my bra off and grab the garment from her hands. Her eyes are squeezed shut, making me chuckle. As the silk glides over my body, I already know this is my dress. It feels like a whisper over my skin. A hug from an old friend.

A gasp from behind me turns my attention away from the way it feels to the attendant. “What do you think?” I ask her. “Sexy enough?”

“Oh fo’ sure.” She clamps her hand over her mouth as laughter fills the room. “Sorry, I let my inner Snoop out. But this dress was made for you. Please tell me you’re buying it.”

I let my gaze swoop to the mirrors and take in my reflection. The breath hitches in my throat. The gown hugs my body, the front held up by two thin straps, covering but accentuating my breasts. As I turn to the side, a glimpse of my back comes into view, and I gasp as the dress dances over my lower back, low enough to show the whole curve of my spine, but not low enough to show any of my ass. The silk glides over the curve of my behind and falls to the floor. Stepping to the side, another gasp falls from my lips as my leg comes into view via the thigh high split. This dress is sexy as sin, elegant as fuck, and so coming home with me.

“This is the one,” I whisper as I nod to my reflection.

A loud bang on the doors lets me know Angie’s done waiting, and I laugh as I open it. Stepping outside, I slowly turn in a full circle for her to get the full effect.

With a nodding head, she beams at me. “That’s it. That’s the one. We’re going to be the best dressed chicks there.”

Keeping my tone casual, I clear my throat and ask, “How much is this?”

Before anyone can reply, Angie is shaking her head and stating, “No,” rather firmly. “Nope. You do not need to know. We’re representing the Spartans, so we need to look amazing. And if you know the price, you won’t buy it.”

Turning to the waiting saleswomen, she says, “Charge them to the accounts, and only deal with moi, please.”

I cut Angie a scathing look, but she just blows a kiss back. Arms folded, feet stomping, I march back into the changing room and gently remove the beautiful garment from my body and hand it over to the assistant, who gives me a small smile as she leaves. I throw my clothes on, grumbling the whole way, and grab my phone. I quickly type out a text, no longer caring if things are awkward between us or not.

Me

Bravo on railroading Angie into coming with me. The little scheme you both cooked up has worked perfectly. I’m now the proud owner of a very expensive ball gown. You’re in so much trouble.

After a few minutes of watching the bubbles appear, showing he’s replying, I tap my foot impatiently. I’ve missed him, and this will hopefully open up the conversation without the awkwardness.

Ben

Show me.

Me

Nope. Angie has confiscated it so I don’t question the price. Which she won’t tell me because she knows I’ll refuse to wear it. But it fits me like a glove.

Ben

I may need to give Angie a raise. What colour is it?

Me

I’m not telling you.

Ben

But I want to match with you.

Holy fuck, that’s sweet. With a sigh I reluctantly reply.

Me

Okay, fine, but only because that was sweet. It’s red.

Ben

My second favourite colour. I can’t wait to see it on my bedroom floor.

And with a smile on my face, my head shaking in amusement, I leave the changing room feeling a little less angsty and a lot lighter, banishing the little voice in the back of my head and focusing solely on the fact that he loves and wants me. That’s enough for me, for now. I hope.