Page 60 of Ladybirds

The mall is crowded, full of people doing returns and exchanges for their Christmas gifts. Sara thought Seth would follow her, but looking over the sea of bodies, she understands why he didn’t bother to get out of his chair. She also understands his amusement when he told her to ‘have fun.’

They’ve only made it through two stores, but Lisa’s already ditching them for the high end retailers at the other end of the mall. Sara can’t say she’s angry about it (the less time she spends with Lisa, the better) but Mary makes no effort to hide her disapproval.

Shaking her head, braids tied back, she watches the blonde walk away until the crowd swallows her up. “That girl is something else.”

Jen waves it off, the way she always does—an extra dose of chipper to help hide the disappointment. “It’s fine. Really, I don’t mind.”

Sara and Mary share a look.

It’s not fine at all.

Especially since Sara knows this is a long repeating pattern that’s been going on since childhood. Lisa’s always been selfish, and Jen has always been too forgiving to call her out on it. Sometimes Sara wonders if Jen would still bother trying if they weren’t cousins.

Mary says nothing, but her lips purse as if she’s tasted something sour. Sara has no doubt that she’ll be sharing the details with Miles later. If anyone hates how Lisa walks all over Jen as much as Sara, it’s him.

They make their way into the third store, their hands sliding the hangers and their eyes flitting over the dresses with a scrutinizing eye. A lot of it is more prom than club attire—full length adorned with incandescent beads and sequins—but they find some shorter ones, too.

“What about this one?” Jen asks, holding up a strapless dress.

Sara only needs one look at the neckline to dismiss it. “I don’t have the boobs to hold that up.”

“Like I do?” Jen presses it into her hands, putting on a mock serious face. “Tape is our friend.”

Sara puts it back on the rack. “No.”

From another rack, Mary hums. “Word to the wise: don’t trust tape at a bachelorette party. Alcohol and gravity are not friends.”

Jen pauses, chin tilted as she considered. “Good point. Straps then.”

They each pull a handful, the fabric draped over their arms as they take turns using the fitting room. The retailer is a small one, the two fitting rooms covered only by an emerald curtain in place of a door. One is already taken by a pair of teenagers prom dress shopping.

Mary tries on three, but none of them impress her. Sara suspects she’s still thinking about the slinky gold one she tried on and liked at the first store. She’s lost track of how many Jen has tried on (seven, maybe?) but Sara knows she won’t be satisfied enough to choose any of them until they’ve scoured the racks of all six stores.

Sara takes in her one pick, despite knowing it probably won’t be going home with her. She (and her bank account) will be far from heartbroken if she leaves empty handed, but it’s still fun to try on.

It’s nice—emerald green with a silhouette that gives the illusion of more curves than she actually has. Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Sara opens the stall door and is instantly greeted by both Jen and Mary’s approval. However, before she can fully bask in their praises, she spots his familiar face behind them.

Seth gifts her with his usual crooked smirk, a finger to his lips.

“Uh, Sara?” Jen says, startling her out of her stupor. Both her and Mary look over their shoulders and back, trying to find what caught her attention. “What are you staring at?”

Sara fumbles for an excuse. “Oh. I, well—”

Seth taps on one of the hangers on the rack beside him, eyes dancing. “Try this one, Princess.”

She latches onto the excuse, walking past her confused companions to pull the dress from the rack. An embarrassed flush is threatening to spill over her cheeks, but she tries her best to sound convincing. It’s a struggle to keep her eyes on the black lace in her hands instead of Seth’s infuriatingly amused expression. “Sorry, this dress just caught my eye, is all.”

Mary frowns. “Honey, you passed that one up a good three times.”

Brows furrowing, Jen tilts her head. “Because it’s lace. You hate lace. You’ve always hated lace.”

If she could manage it without making herself look even crazier, she would pin Seth with a withering glare. As it is, she holds the dress up so she has an excuse to meet his eyes just past the dress’s neckline.

He raises a brow. “A little trust wouldn’t be remiss. Besides, what have you to lose?”

It’s bad enough that he’s right, but the fact that he knows it is insufferable. “I don’t know, maybe I just need to give lace another try?”

Jen looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “First your hair, and now lace? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

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