The Hidden - Jessica Verday [61]
I walked over and gave her the pink dress. Then I took the red one. It was daring. Something I’d never pictured myself wearing, but it fit Ben’s crazy personality to a T. “I kind of like it,” I said. “I’m gonna try it on.”
Draping it over my arm, I went to go find a fitting room. There was a line a mile long, but eventually a room opened up, and I went in. I had to wiggle my way into the dress, and it fit me like a glove. I stood back and took in my reflection.
The slit was high, the top low, but it looked damn good. I piled my hair on top of my head and held it up with one hand. A few wispy curls straggled down around my ears, and I turned to check out the back. It was a sexy dress, and for a moment I wondered if it was too sexy to wear for a friend date with Ben. But the longer I looked at it, the more I had to have it.
It was perfect.
A knock came on the door, and I opened it a crack, sticking my head out to see who it was. Beth stood there, shifting a huge pile of dresses from one arm to the other. “I thought I saw you grab this dressing room,” she said. “Can I come in? This line is atrocious.”
“Yeah, sure. But I’m going to go with this dress, so I’m done.”
She nudged the door open wider, and her eyes grew large. “Yup. That’s the one. Ben is totally going to want to do you.”
I could feel my face get warm. “That’s not the look I’m going for. Maybe I should get a different—”
“If you don’t get this one, Browning, I will kill you. Slowly.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” She shuffled into the small space, and piled the heap of dresses onto the changing bench nearby. “That’s the one. Get it.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll get it.”
Beth turned away and bent over to pick out a dress. Loosening the plastic, she pulled one out and hung it up on the hook by the mirror. As I changed back into my regular clothes, all I could hear was the whooshing of voluminous fabric as she struggled to find the arm and neck holes.
“Do you need help?” I asked.
“Nope.” Her head popped through. “I got it.” She glanced at herself in the mirror and made a face. The bottom of the white dress she was trying on stood out from her body in a huge ball of bunched-up fabric.
“It’s … poofy,” I said.
“‘Poofy’ isn’t quite the word I’d use. More like ‘fugly.’ Next.”
She bumped into me as she pulled her arms free, and I tried to move out of her way, but there wasn’t enough room. We did a little dance back and forth, but I was trapped up against the wall. “I think I’m going to just leave,” I said. “That okay with you?”
“Yeah.”
I cracked the door again, and then stood waiting outside. “Are you having any luck?” I called after a while.
There was a muffled curse, and then she said, “Nope. Just tried on the third one. I have about twelve more to go.”
Twelve? Good Lord. “Since you still have so many, do you mind if I go take a walk? I’m bored out of my skull.”
“Go ahead.”
I started to walk away, then came back. “Oh, hey. I left my dress in there. Do you want me to get it?”
“Nah. It’s fine where it is.”
“Okay. Call me when you find the one.”
I quickly left the dressing room behind, and went outside. The cool air was a blast of relief on my skin, and I didn’t even realize how hot it must have been in there.
Most of the nearby storefronts were empty, but I walked up to each one anyway, peering into dirty windows to see what had been left behind. One store still had a bunch of racks and display shelves with what looked like old pharmacy bottles stacked high against the wall. I could only imagine what the old labels would say.
Tearing myself away from the window, I walked farther up the street and found the antiques store we had passed on the way in. It was small, and looked like it was crammed with junk, but with the way Beth was going, it looked like I was going to have plenty of time to kill. Why not give it a shot?
So I went in.
Chapter Sixteen
THE PERFECT DRESS
The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half hour at his toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best, and indeed only suit of rusty black …