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I hop into the shower while Conner sits at the table, reading an honest-to-god newspaper, delivered earlier to his door.
It’s like we’re playing house, but the overall effect is a thousand times better than playing the same game with my old Barbies. I’m smiling as I lather up a mesh washcloth, frowning as I soap between my legs.
There’s a stretched sensation, a bit sore, like I’ve had sex. If I were back in my room, I’d grab a mirror and investigate, instead I wash carefully. I might have a scrape from the other day, in the backseat of Conner’s car, and it’s become inflamed. It could be a new and exciting prelude to my period or a side effect of the IUD.
A memory flickers but it’s not solid enough to grab. I go hunting but the more I try to find it, the more it eludes me. In the end, I stick my head under the spray and let the whole thing fade from my mind for the simple joy of the moment.
I hope whatever it is will heal by itself. Another trip to the school clinic doesn’t fill me with excitement.
When I emerge from the bathroom, there’s a long skirt and blouse laid on the bed. Conner hovers by the doorway. “I can run you back to school if you prefer to grab your own clothes.”
The outfit is lovely. Far more luxurious than anything I own. “No. This is great, thank you.”
“There’s no underwear.”
That prompts a grin. “I’ll just turn them inside out.”
“Or you could go without. The skirt isn’t see-through.”
He leaves before I can respond to that with anything more than my flaming cheeks. When I pull the skirt on, the fabric against my bare skin feels deliciously naughty. I’m a little shaken, thinking of going out in public like that, but turned on, too.
“You look beautiful,” he says when I walk into the kitchen. He swings me into his arms, cupping my face like it’s treasured, eyes glowing with happiness.
My heartbeat picks up its pace as I stare up at him. I want to pinch myself, finding it hard to believe someone so good looking could be happy with my nothing-special-ness.
“Ready to go?”
I nod, my stomach fluttering as he puts an arm around my shoulder and directs me through the internal door into the garage. His driver’s already there, holding the door open for me, and I clamber inside, feeling like someone picked me up by accident and dropped me into the middle of a fairy tale.
* * *
CONNER
While Paisley tries on the gold dress to ensure it’s the right size, I walk around the store, gazing at the different mannequins, trying to imagine the outfits scaled down to her size.
“Were you looking for something else?” an eager assistant enquires, and I nod, pointing to a dress in a shade of crimson so dark, it’s almost black. “And we’ll need shoes,” I announce, turning as Paisley opens the door to examine the result in the full-length mirror. “Try this one on, too,” I say, passing over the just-selected garment.
“Oh, but… I just needed to return this to Marnie. I’m good.”
She squirms and I bite back a smile. It’s the same awkwardness she exhibited with the club cover charge. Like money is such an unknown quantity to her, she can’t believe other people can spend it without caring.
About time I broke her of that habit.
“It’d be my pleasure to buy you something. And if you have your own dress to go out in, you won’t have to borrow from your friend again.”
“But… it’s so expensive,” she says in a whisper, like she doesn’t want the salesperson to overhear her critique.
“It’s really not,” I say, checking the tag. “Not compared to the jewellery I’ll buy you next.”
For a second, I think I’ve shorted her brain, then her expression sparks back into life. “I don’t need jewellery.”
I pull her back against me, whispering into her ear, “Nobodyneedsjewellery. That’s what makes it so popular.” She’s still tense and I turn her to stare into the mirror, watching over her shoulder. “You’re so beautiful you deserve to wear beautiful things.”
Instead of looking at her reflection, she frowns at me. “Is this money from your uncle?”
“It’s family money.”
“Proceeds of crime money?”
