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“I’m sorry,” I gasp out, trying to get ahold of myself. “Are we making a scene? I don’t think this dress is the one, unfortunately.”
“Are you narrowing down what you think you want?” the saleswoman asks dubiously. “Black tie is a pretty broad spectrum of styles.”
“I can say this one is probably a little too flashy,” I admit.
“So something more demure?” she asks.
“But not boring,” Reagan says. “Sophie needs to shine. Just maybe not this much.”
“I think I have some more things I can pull for you,” the saleswoman says, leaving before Reagan and I dissolve into laughter again.
This is a high stakes shopping trip. I need the perfect dress so I can go into that launch party with confidence. But it’s also a lot of fun. I brought Reagan for a second opinion, but I’m really glad she’s here.
“I am never going to find the right dress,” I say. “Should I settle on that navy one?”
“You should never settle,” Reagan fusses. “The real question is, should I get that one with the sequins? I could blind Caleb through the laptop camera in the right lighting.”
“Don’t you mean dazzle?” I ask, chortling. “Why would you want to blind him?”
“Just need to keep the spark going in a long-distance relationship,” she says a little wistfully before her features bend toward wicked. “A blazing, blinding spark.”
“Now that’s romance, Rae.” I don’t envy her the long-distance relationship with her boyfriend Caleb. She talks about it sometimes, the way I still talk about Declan. Even though the distance between us is less about the literal miles and more about the figurative ones.
It’s nice to have Reagan to bounce things off of. We’ve grown closer ever since we met on my fire escape, and I’m super thankful for her.
“Honestly, my frontrunner for you is the green strapless one,” she says. “Dynamite.”
“For a club, maybe,” I say. “But if I’m running around taking photos and actually working this event, the last thing I need is for my boobs to pop out from the top.” I vanish behind the dressing room curtain to wriggle out of the sequined number.
“What an impression, though,” Reagan says. “You’d certainly make your mark.”
“Not the memory I want to make.”
“I’m sure there’s at least one person who might treasure that memory.” Reagan’s voice is sweet, but it’s full of mischief.
“It’s not anything he hasn’t seen before,” I mutter, rehanging the sparkly dress even though I’m sure the saleswoman is going to completely redo it. “And it didn’t seem to make a lasting impression whatsoever.”
“Ms. Anderson, try this one.” A dress pokes its way through the side of the curtain, and I take it from the saleswoman. “I’m going to pull a few more pieces, but this one caught my eye for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, examining it. It’s dark and demure, for sure. But at this point, I’m getting a little desperate. Having the right dress in hand will give me more peace of mind and help me focus on preparing for the event in other ways.
I struggle to get the zipper up—this dress is snugger than most of the other ones—and leave the room without examining myself in the mirror. I’m letting Reagan be my reflection.
Her eyes light up as soon as she looks up from her phone. “Oh my god. Yes. Sophie, yes. This is the one!”
“Really?” I ask, turning to the angled mirrors on the opposite wall. “Oh. Oh.”
“That’s right,” Reagan crows. “Say yes to this dress!”
It’s not something I would’ve picked out for myself, all sleek lines and long sleeves. The hem narrows to a pencil skirt, hitting just at the knee, and the neckline leaves plenty to the imagination even as it highlights plenty from my assets.
When I turn to check out my own butt, which looks, admittedly, pretty damn great, Reagan whoops and applauds.
“Declan won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” she says. “No, scratch that. He’s not going to be able to keep his hands to himself when you’re around him in that.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head at her. “That is so not the goal of this event.”
“Should I put these back, then?” the saleswoman asks, brandishing a few more pieces, but smiling at me. “Because that cut really suits you.”
