Page 27 of Knot Happening

Not that Adam has ever made me feel bad about the disparity between our living situations. If anything, he goes out of his way to spend time at my place, probably because he understands that I'm more comfortable on my own territory.

"It's not weird," I lie. “I mean we could sneak in when your mom’s not around or sleeping. It is just that your place just feels too... fancy for practicing fake romance."

"Fancy?" He asks while lifting his eyebrow.

"You know what I mean. All that space and nice furniture and proper lighting. It would feel like performing instead of practicing."

Adam considers this for a moment, then nods. "Okay, but we definitely need to practice somewhere with enough room to actually dance. Mrs. Patterson agreed to give us lessons tomorrow afternoon, but I'd rather not go in completely blind."

"The library?" I ask.

"Perfect. After hours, plenty of space, and we already know all the good hiding spots in case someone sees us making fools of ourselves."

The plan settled, we spend the rest of the afternoon working on basic couple behaviors: hand-holding that looks intentionalrather than accidental, standing close enough to appear intimate without invading each other's personal space, and what Adam terms "meaningful eye contact."

By evening, we've made progress. Not great, but enough improvement that we no longer look like strangers forced to share personal space against their will.

"I think we're ready for public practice," I announce as we're gathering our things to leave.

"Public practice?" He asks.

"Tomorrow we're going shopping for outfits. That means sales associates, other customers, people who will assume we're actually a couple. It'll be good practice for the real thing."

Adam looks slightly terrified by this prospect, but he nods gamely. "Baptism by fire. I like it."

The next day, we’re standing outside Enchanted Elegance, an upscale formal wear boutique in the city that specializes in what their website calls "fairy tale fashion for life's most magical moments." The name alone makes me want to turn around and find somewhere less aggressively romantic, but Adam researched extensively and insists this is our best option for ball-appropriate attire.

"Remember," I tell him as we approach the entrance, "we're a couple who's been secretly dating for three months. We're excited about attending our first formal event together. We're looking for coordinating outfits that will make us look like we belong at an exclusive ball."

"Got it. Excited, coordinated, belonging." Adam takes my hand as we reach the door, and I'm pleased to note that the gesture feels more natural than yesterday's attempts. "Readyto spend an embarrassing amount of money on clothes we'll probably never wear again?"

"So ready."

The interior of Enchanted Elegance is exactly what you'd expect from the name with soft lighting, classical music, and displays arranged to look like scenes from a romantic fairy tale. Everything is designed to make customers feel like they're shopping for their own happily ever after.

"Good morning!" A saleswoman approaches us with the kind of bright smile that suggests commission-based compensation. She's in her early thirties with perfectly styled blonde hair swept into an elegant updo, wearing a sophisticated black dress that probably costs more than my monthly rent. Her makeup is flawless, and she moves with the practiced grace of someone who's spent years helping nervous customers find their perfect look. "I'm Julia, and I'd be delighted to help you find the perfect looks for your special event."

"We're attending a masquerade ball," I explain, immediately slipping into the role we've rehearsed. "It's our first formal event together, so we want to coordinate our outfits without being too matchy-matchy."

"Oh, the Thornfield Palace Masquerade Ball!" Julia’s eyes light up with genuine excitement. "How absolutely thrilling! We've been preparing for weeks, it's the most prestigious event of the year. And may I say, you two make such a lovely couple. There's something special about the way you look at each other."

Adam and I exchange glances, and I'm surprised to realize that we actually do look at each other differently than we did yesterday. Not romantically, exactly, but with a heightened awareness that reads as intimacy to outside observers.

"Thank you," Adam says, squeezing my hand. "We're pretty excited about it."

For the next hour, Julia guides us through the process of selecting formal wear with the expertise of someone who's dressed hundreds of couples for important events. She explains color coordination, fabric compatibility, and the subtle details that distinguish expensive formal wear from rental-quality approximations.

"The key," she tells us as she pulls potential dresses for my consideration, "is finding pieces that complement each other without looking like you planned every detail. You want to appear naturally harmonious."

Natural harmony. I like the sound of that, probably because it describes what Adam and I actually have when we're not trying to force romance into the equation.

The first dress Julia brings me is stunning, it’s a deep emerald green silk that brings out my eyes and fits like it was designed specifically for my body. But when I emerge from the dressing room, both Adam and Julia immediately shake their heads.

"Too formal," Julia declares. "Beautiful, but it overwhelms your natural warmth."

"Agreed," Adam says. "You look amazing, but you also look like someone else entirely."

The second dress is better, it’s a midnight blue with intricate beadwork that catches the light when I move. But again, something feels off.

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