by A. J. Macey
“You would not,” Stella assured, stepping to the rack next to us, her head tilting as she sifted through the dresses. “What about a pink? Or maybe a blue?”
“I love pink,” I told her, walking a bit further down to start scanning. “Not sure how the blue would look since it’s not a color I wear very often, but I’m up for basically anything.”
“Except inmate orange,” Lyla countered, holding up another dress. Scrunching my face, I shook my head vehemently. It was a bit wider in the skirt than the first one, and the floral print was acceptable, but there was one major issue. “Not a fan of the pattern?”
“The v-neck, too deep for me,” I pointed out. “Assistant Principal DeRosa already has it out for me as it is, don’t need to give him any other reason to target me.”
“Ugh, fuck that guy,” Lyla swore, grimacing when Stella looked over at us with a cocked brow. “Sorry.”
She waved off Lyla’s apology. “Oh, you’re fine, Lyla. You’re not my son, so you can say whatever you want. Has DeRosa done anything else since the last time you talked to us?”
“Other than give us all glares from across the lunchroom, no. Thankfully. But I wouldn’t put it past him to be even more of a pain in my butt the night of prom.” Shifting the hangers from side to side with a bit more force than probably necessarily, I grumbled under my breath about how much I hated him.
“Well, if that’s the case, we’ll deal with it when we get there. For now, it’s time to have fun!” Stella expressed, holding up a dress. “How’s this?”
“Oooh, I love that.” I eyed the sparkly light pink dress. “Similar to this one, but this one isn’t as razzle dazzle.” I mirrored her stance, holding the pink maxi dress up for her to see above the rack.
“And I found a purple one that’s a similar style, though it’s made of a different fabric and has pockets,” Lyla added into the conversation. “Do we want to keep looking before trying on?”
“Nah, I don’t want to have a hundred dresses picked out since I know I’ll only buy one,” I explained, the three of us moving toward the dressing room. “That would suck to have to be the one to put it away.”
“If we don’t like any of them, we can come find a few more to try,” Stella suggested, both ladies handing over the dresses.
“Let us know if you need help zipping them up!” Lyla hollered after I closed the door.
“I will.”
Undressing quickly, I stripped down to my underwear and bra, my eyes inevitably falling on the hickey on my hip that was finally fading. A burst of heat filled me, flashes of mine and Kingston’s, and mine and Reid’s time together flaring in my mind. Jesse’s wandering hands filtered in among the memories, but instead of allowing myself to enjoy them, I pushed them away and took the first dress from the hanger. The fitting room is not a place to fantasize, Emma.
“All right, I’m ready for zipping,” I called, looking in the mirror at the pink dress I’d found. It was pretty, if not a bit plain. The fit of the dress was spot on, but the straps needed to be shortened a bit as they kept slipping off my shoulders. There was a soft sweetheart neckline, and the skirt flowed to the floor where the fabric pooled at my feet.
Note to self: get heels.
Lyla appeared, giving me an exaggerated ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ before zipping up the side. As soon as it was secured, I twisted back and forth, bending and maneuvering to make sure it wouldn’t be too tight or uncomfortable.
“Ready to show Stella?” Lyla asked, hitching a thumb to the cracked open door. I nodded, following her out of the tiny stall. “I think it looks great, though the straps need a bit of finagling.”
“Oh, that is gorgeous,” Stella agreed, her smile widening as I spun around, the soft fabric flaring out around my legs. “Looks like you’ll be able to wear heels if you want and the skirt won’t be abnormally short.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too, and I’ll definitely be wearing heels. I have a feeling all of the floor-length dresses will drag on the ground if I don’t.”
“So, onto dress number two?” Lyla said, stepping away from where she was leaning against the neighboring dressing room door.
“Yup, I’ll be right back.” Slipping back into the stall with me, Lyla unzipped the dress quickly before stepping out. I stripped out of the dress and pulled on Lyla’s pick. “This is going to be a no.” I popped my head out, keeping my body in the door. “The fabric is abnormally stiff and uncomfortable around my chest and hips.”
“That’s because you got those good birthing hips,” Lyla exclaimed in a ridiculous accent that I could only peg as poorly executed Russian. “But for real, definitely don’t want a dress that you’ll hate to wear. Next!”
Shaking my head, I stepped back into the room, Stella’s laughter filling the empty dressing area. Just like with dresses one and two, I slipped out of the current one and put on the next, this time able to zip it on my own. The pale peachy fabric was covered in shiny silver and rose gold beads, making the entire dress sparkle. It was the same fit and style as the first one, but the straps actually stayed in place. A smile spread across my face, loving how I looked in the dress.
“Yup, this is definitely the one,” I confirmed, stepping out, but only Stella was there. As soon as she looked at the dress, she gasped, eyes wide and bright as she started to nod.
“That is absolutely beautiful,” she murmured, gesturing for me to spin in a circle.
“Where’d Ly go?” I questioned, completing my twirl.
“To find you some heels to try on.”
“Got it, guess that makes sense,” I said as I stepped up to the three-panel mirror. Stella’s bright smile was reflected next to me from where she sat, excitement wafting off of her in waves. Only… I felt a twinge of sadness building with each twist and turn as I got a good look at the dress.
“Emma dear, you all right?” Stella asked a long moment later. “You seem down.”
“I’m good, Stella,” I tried to tell her, but when she flashed me her ‘mom glare,’ I knew I hadn’t fooled her. “It’s just… I tried to talk to Mom about prom the other day when she was in a good mood, and it didn’t go well. All she would talk about was how she doesn’t approve of the guys and all that stuff. I love this dress, and don’t get me wrong, I love that I have you and Lyla with me to dress shop, but it’s… not the same, I guess. I mean, I can’t even go to dinner with her and my biological dad tonight and gush about how I found the perfect dress or how excited I am for my senior prom. She told me she wouldn’t give me permission to go with the guys, and I know I probably shouldn’t stir things up, but I’m going to my senior prom even if she’s not happy about it... which sucks.” Sighing, I shrugged, hating that there was this blanket of melancholy weighing on me when it was supposed to be a fun happy time.
“Want to hear a story?” Stella asked, confusing me, but I nodded all the same. When she patted Lyla’s vacated seat, I walked over and plopped down ungracefully. “When I was in high school, Kaleb and I had dated, but it ended on quite a negative note,” she divulged, surprising me.
Kaleb and Stella—the epitome of relationship goals—had broken up before?
“A year or so later, during freshman year of college, we ran into each other again. Though, I think I wanted to throw my bowl of cereal at him instead of catching up. Long story short, we ended up back together, but my mom didn’t approve. Not one single bit. Once she disliked someone, that was the end.”
“Does she still hate Kaleb?” I asked, engrossed in their story.
“Aha, the key to the entire story,” Stella murmured with a smile. “Your mom may not be supportive now, may only see what she wants to see, but in the future, she’ll come to realize you’re an adult.”
If only she realized that now.
“What I mean is, you never know what will change over time. She doesn’t approve now, but that doesn’t mean she won’t come around.”
“Did your mom come around?”
“She did, it took a lo
ng time, but she did. Finally realized that Kaleb wasn’t as bad as she had originally thought.” Stella gave me a smile and wrapped an arm around my shoulders in a side hug. “Though I do want to say that if it’s too hard or too much to keep trying, then it’s okay to walk away. What you want and need as a person is important too.”
“So,” I started, “basically continue with what I’m doing now?”
Stella hummed for a moment, thinking before nodding, “Yeah, basically.” The two of us giggled, and some of the melancholy lifted. Her story was odd and not overly detailed, but in its own weird way, it had helped me feel better. “Feel better? Despite my need to work on my pep talk abilities.”
“Yeah, I do, poor skills or not.”
“Woo! I come bearing shoes!” Lyla called out, practically running into the fitting area. “Up, up, up, let me see!” Shaking my head at her demands, my chuckles continued as I stood. “Oh, that is it. That’s the one. It is the one, right?”
“Yes, this is the one,” I agreed, holding my hand out for the box in her hands. The shoes were a champagne color, matching the soft golden beads on the dress. The heel wasn’t overly high, but it would be tall enough to keep the dress from dragging. Setting the box down, I pulled out the strappy heels and put them on.
“Those are perfect!” Lyla squealed, her feet bouncing as she clapped her hands. I could see Stella’s nodding reflection as I checked out the pair in the three-panel mirror.
“So, this the one?” I questioned, doing a final turn.
“Definitely.”
“Hell yes.”
“Well, all right then,” I exclaimed when they both spouted their answers quickly. “I’ll get changed quick. I got it zipped okay, but I’m questioning how I’ll unzip it without having to do some weird contortionist act—”
“I’m on it.” Lyla hopped up, following me into the stall.
“I’ll take these other two dresses out,” Stella offered, taking the ‘no’ dresses from the hook on the wall.
“So, Emma Bean,” Lyla began once the stall door was closed, almost whispering as she did the zipper of my dress. The low tone surprised me, but I didn’t get a chance to question it before she continued. “I totally overheard this phone conversation while I was browsing all things glam in the shoe department, and it reminded me. Did you get your OBGYN appointment made?”
I balked, my face paling at the blunt question since Stella might be just outside of the door. Lyla is a lot of things, but subtle is not one of them, I thought. Hopefully Stella had been out of the room before the question was asked. I didn’t hear anything from the other side of the door, thankfully, but Lyla gave me a single brow raise as she waited.
“Yes,” I huffed, crossing my arms and turning to face her. “It’s scheduled for April 11th.”
“Good, like I said before, sexual health is important and don’t think I forgot about it!” she reminded me, giving a playful finger wag. “I’ll wait with Stella in the store. Meet you out there.”
Shaking my head as she left, I changed and hung the dress up before following them out of the dressing rooms to where the two browsed more dresses, a couple yards away.
Thank god she didn’t hear any of that because there was nothing like having a conversation about sex around one of my boyfriends’ moms.
The one whose son I just had sex with a few days prior.
Cue the blush from hell, but she didn’t hear so I relaxed and joined them.
“You need accessories.” Lyla immediately jumped into the next topic when I approached, but she stopped, looking at me quizzically when I shook my head. “You don’t?”
“I’m going to wear the pink tourmaline earrings and necklace Jesse gave me; I think they’d look pretty good with it.” Shifting my hair out of the way, I looked at the stone studs in my ears, loving that the hint of pink in the dress was the same shade.
“Those are perfect. I didn’t realize you were wearing them since I couldn’t see them through your hair. Since we have all of that settled, we can focus on our next task because summer is right around the corner, and while you, Miss Cali, might have lots of summer clothing, I do not. So, want to help me pick some stuff out for the impending heat?”
“I’d love to!” I beamed, enjoying our time together.
“That’s perfect because I’m also in need of some new summer stuff,” Stella added as we started toward the women’s section. A conspiratorial smile appeared on her face as she looked between us. “Let the shopping excursion continue!”
I can’t wait.
Lyla and Stella both said goodbye as I got into my car a few hours later, the two of them leaving the mall, whereas I was going across the lot to one of the buildings on the edge of the mall property. The high from our shopping trip slowly started to fade as I pulled in to wait for my mom and Sam to arrive, my eyes falling on the garment bag in the back seat.
“Crap,” I muttered under my breath, realizing I had wanted to put it in my trunk to avoid any unwanted conversation. Scrambling, I chucked a spare couple of sweatshirts and the jacket that had somehow accumulated in my car over the bag, covering it the best I could. Just in time too. I breathed out a sigh, noting Sam’s SUV pulling in a few spots down. Climbing out, I met Mom and Sam at the end of my car.
“Hm, looks pretty busy, let me see if they have any openings at the bar while we wait for our reservation,” my mom said, her gaze trailing over the filled parking lot and crowded entryway. “Coming, honey?”
“I think I’ll wait out here until we know for sure. No need to fill the doorway any more than it already is,” Sam told her with a smile. “Want to stay out here with me, Emma?”
“Yes,” I nearly squeaked, clearing my throat before giving a small smile. The thought of a small packed space was definitely not appealing. “I’ll hang out here.”
“All right then, I’ll give you a call when I know.” With that, she headed inside, Sam shifting slightly closer to the parked cars so one across the way could back out. We stood in silence for a long moment before he finally turned to me.
“So, I know this is kind of out of the blue,” he began, his tone soft and nervous. “But if you ever need someone to talk to or anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. That is, if you’d be okay with getting my number.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I said honestly. The fact that he seemed nervous was actually helping me to stay calm. It seemed like this was important to him, and it was nice to have that feeling of being someone’s priority. Digging out my phone, I entered his information in. “Thanks, Sam.”
“No problem, Emma. I know you and your mom aren’t necessarily seeing eye to eye right now, so if you need anything, day or night, bad or good, I’m there.” He tilted his head in the direction of my car, giving me a knowing smile. When I followed his gaze, I realized that from where we were standing you could see the hanger and name of the shop on the garment bag. Grimacing, I tried to come up with something to say, an excuse or lie, but nothing came to mind.
“You’re not going to tell her… are you?” I murmured. “It’s my senior prom, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. I know it’s important to you, and as much as you’re biologically my child, I think we can both agree I couldn’t tell you what to do even if I tried,” Sam joked nervously, relieving the stress that had started to build.
At least I’m not the only one who sucks at social situations. Sam’s phone dinged, and he angled it for me to see that it was my mom, letting him know our table was almost ready. “Let’s head in. I think we can brave the crowd for a few moments. Right?”
Chuckling, I nodded, starting toward the entrance with him, but before he could open the glass door for us, I rested my hand on his forearm. My words were soft, but I didn’t want to go inside without having told him how I felt.
“Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate it, and I’m grateful you’re a part of my life now.”
His grin was blinding,
the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he opened the door.
“Anytime, Emma, anytime.”
17
April 4th
For one night, it’s just me, my boys, and my friends. Time to dance away the night in pretty attire and under the glittering lights.
#SeniorProm #MayIHaveThisDance #DreamsReallyDoComeTrue #StressFreeSaturday
“It’s prom night! It’s prom night!” Aubrey sang cheerfully, doing some odd semblance of a happy dance that involved waving limbs and circling around.
“I’m so excited! Especially since your aunt Marjorie is doing hair and your cousin is doing makeup. We’re going to look so fabulous!” Zoey chimed in, clapping slightly as she talked. I hadn’t personally met them yet, but based on all the stories they’d divulged, I was also excited. Their antics made me smile, but at that point nothing could really dull the melancholy mood that had swept in when I left the house that day. “What’s wrong, Emma? You seem all… blah. Are the boys being dumb?”
“Nah, they’re great,” I protested, waving away any concern. “My mom just doesn’t approve of them, so any talk of prom was always tense and short. It didn’t go well when I headed out.” I cringed at the memory of my mom’s severe frown and narrowed eyes, the harsh scowl etched in my mind forever.
“Oh, that sucks. I’m going to assume she told you she was disappointed? That’s what my parents do,” Zo shared with a sympathetic smile.
“Ugh, yes. Also brought up that she couldn’t believe that even after everything we’d been through I’d continue to ‘defy her wishes as my mother’"—I finger quoted—“something about that’s why she keeps having to work from home, to babysit me. It was dumb.”
