Page 40 of Something like Love

“Okay, I’ll buy it if you think it looks okay,” I say, cringing when I look down at the glittery disco ball I’m currently wearing.

Polly must be able to read my apprehension as she sighs. “Wait here.”

She quickly walks away before I have a chance to question where she’s going.

Just as I’m about to sit down, Polly returns with a white dress and matching shoes. “Here, try this on,” she states, shoving the items into my chest.

As I look down, I’m nearly blinded by its brightness because it’s so…white.

“It’s, um…white,” I stupidly say, stating the obvious.

“Congrats for knowing your colors. Now hurry up.” She pushes me in the direction of the changing rooms, huffing in annoyance.

I decide to humor her, as there’s no way I’m wearing a white dress, but at least it’s longer than the one I’m currently wearing.

The shoes make a loud thud as they smash against the wall when I impatiently kick them off, and the balls of my feet sing in celebration as soon as they are bare.

I let out a relieved breath as I remove the skintight garment from my body, and my lungs thank me because I can finally breathe again. I throw it into the corner, about to rejoice, but then my eyes fall onto the hanger behind the door.

Sighing, I rip it down, and as I’m shimmying into the ridiculously shiny white dress, I can’t help but think this is an awful idea. I’m not the type of girl who can wear white without getting it dirty. I’m the type of girl who just looks at a white garment and marks it up with invisible dirt.

But as I turn to look into the mirror, I almost trip, not recognizing the reflection staring back at me.

“Do the shoes fit?” Polly asks from outside the door.

The moment I slip them on, my feet thank me for not subjecting them to those other heels. Even though these shoes are high, they’re platforms, making it much easier to stay balanced.

Still gaping at the reflection staring back at me, I can’t believe the mirror image is mine.

My legs look lengthy and toned, thanks to the five-inch white diamanté platforms, and the dress, which is still short but modest, sits mid-thigh, giving my legs a longer, suppler look.

The sweetheart neckline is held up by crystal-beaded spaghetti straps, which match the dazzling crystal beads on the corset-style bodice. The white skirt balloons out like a tutu, but it’s softer and flows naturally, as the hem of the three-layer skirt is rimmed with white silk.

“Hello? Are you alive in there?” Polly impatiently knocks on the door.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door with poise and step out, but I feel extremely self-conscious when Polly and the sales clerk both gasp when they see me.

I pull at the plunging neckline, and Polly slaps my hand away. “Do not cover them up because they look awesome. We’ll take it,” Polly says to the smiling shop assistant, pointing at my attire.

“Good choice, Polly. Your friend looks amazing,” she innocently says, not realizing that Polly and I aren’t exactly friends.

But I nearly fall flat on my face when Polly replies, “Yeah, she kinda does.”

I give her a small smile, and she returns it for the briefest of moments before she produces a plastic card and hands it to the store clerk.

“Oh no, I can pay for it,” I quickly object, waving my hands to stop the assistant.

“Don’t worry about it,” Polly replies dismissively, nodding at the poor girl looking back and forth between us, confused. “It’s on Mother.”

“I still don’t feel right about it.” But it’s too late as the beaming sales clerk has taken off for the registers with the credit card in hand.

“Honestly, it’s fine,” Polly reaffirms when she sees me chewing my lip.

“Okay. Well, thanks.” I nod before ducking into the changing room to get undressed, seeing as Polly won’t take no for an answer.

As I drape the dress onto the hanger, I have to do a double take to ensure I’ve seen the correct eight-hundred-dollar figure on the price tag.

I’ve never spent that amount on anything before and feel guilty for allowing Cynthia to pay for a dress I’ll only wear once.

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