Page 17 of Marigold Run

“Lift your arms for me, dear.” Mrs. Florence taps my elbow. I do as I’m told and lift my arms up. I feel a little silly, standing like I’m ready to take flight. “We can take this in here.” The betapinches the lilac fabric at my waist, showing Everly. “And I’m thinking we should take the hem up an inch or two.”

I can see Everly nod out of the corner of my eye, but I’m too busy examining Mrs. Florence’s face. It’s clear that she’s had some work done, making it difficult to pinpoint her age. I assume she’s older, but I have no idea. Her face is weirdly puffy and her upper lip juts out, but it’s the sheen on her immobile forehead that’s the hardest to ignore. I’m honestly a little jealous. Not of the procedures the beta has subjected herself to, but of the freedom she has to do whatever the hell she wants to her body.

It must be nice.

“I can also bring the collar up a little higher.” Mrs. Florence tugs at the dress's shoulders, jerking it upward.

“Please don’t,” I say, hoping like hell I don’t sound bitchy. “It’s already a little tight.” I hook a finger in the collar, trying to pull the scratchy material off of my sensitive skin.

“How is the fabric?” Everly asks. She looks so studious sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and her hands resting gently in her lap. “The lace detail is very pretty. Do you like it?”

I quickly nod, not sure what to say. I mean, it’s not a terrible dress, but the zipper and the lace along the underside of the sleeves itch like a son of a bitch. I don’t want to come across as ungrateful, but I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

“Mari?” Everly’s voice edges even softer, and she tilts her head as she looks up at me. “Is the color okay?”

“Yes. It's great.” I grimace as Mrs. Florence sticks my side with a safety pin.

“Apologies, my dear,” the beta says, pulling the pin out.

Everly squints, quietly looking over my stiff posture and tight expression. “You’re allowed to not like it,” she finally says, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “This fitting is to find thingsyoulike. Please, be brutally honest.”

My throat works as I swallow hard. I want to tell her I hate every second of this, and I just want to go lie down. But I can’t be cruel to Everly. While I’ve only known her for a few months now, she’s always been very kind to me on the phone. She seems like a nice person.

But if honesty is what she wants….

“I hate this dress,” I finally say, waiting to be scolded for being rude.

Everly goes still and Mrs. Florence looks at me as if I sprouted a second head.

“I really am very thankful for all of this,” I say, looking deep into Everly’s eyes. I need her to know I mean it. “And I'll wear whatever makes you happy.”As long as it doesn’t strangle me.“But if you want my honest opinion, this dress is horrible.”

“Okay,” Everly says softly as she rises off of the couch.Is she coming over here to slap me for insulting her clothes?She doesn’t seem the type, but you never know what someone is like until you’ve angered them. “This,” she gestures to the pile of fabric Mrs. Florence brought with her, “isn’t about what makesmehappy.” She reaches for my hand. “These areyourclothes. I want you to pick out the things that you love.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I know that tons of omegas would kill to have custom-made clothes, but I honestly don’t give a shit. Give me a few pairs of leggings and a comfortable shirt, and I’ll be happy. But despite what Everly says, this isn’t about me. It’s about how they can dress me. Show me off. Prove to everyone else that their omega is more spoiled than any other.

“I have lots of other designs,” Mrs. Florence says when I don’t speak. “We can do a more minimalist style or something more modern.” She grabs a thick stack of multi-colored fabrics, moving as if filled with renewed energy. “We can add or remove any details you’d like.” She places the fabric in my hands. “I only brought these designs because,” she pauses, looking at Everly,“this is what your last…” she trails off and Everly clears her throat loudly.

“Let’s look at some finished designs, and find something you like.” Everly moves past me, to the bookshelf. She steps back next to me and my attention snaps to the tablet in her hands.

Where did that come from?

I look over my shoulder, only seeing rows and rows of books. It must have been wedged between them somewhere.

“Come and sit.” Everly walks around the glass coffee table and plops onto the blue couch. The cushions puff up around her and my body aches to find out if it’s as soft as it looks. “Come on.” She pats the spot next to her before tapping on the screen. “I won’t bite.”

My body moves as I stare at the tablet resting on Everly’s knees. I slowly sit and the couch sucks me deep into the cushions. It feels amazing, pulling all the tension out of my back and hips.

“Wow,” I whisper, unable to help myself.

“I know.” Everly leans in, giggling. “It was very important to Izan that the furniture was omega-approved.”

I lean back in my seat, snuggling into the fabric. “I approve.”

Everly smiles so wide, I swear her cheeks are going to pop. “Okay.” She pushes the tablet into my hands and my heart begins to race. “Let’s see what catches your eye.”

I stare at the screen, and my excitement quickly dies. The device is weird compared to the tablets I occasionally got to use at Havenfield. There are no tabs along the top of the screen and there’s no button at the bottom to go back to the home page. It’s a simple, sleek rectangle, displaying a collection of models wearing various outfits, ready for me to scroll through.

“How do I use this?” I ask.

---