“To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.”
”Jane Austen
“Justin is my boyfriend. I like Justin. He is a good person. He is a great person. Justin is a sexy beast. Just the thought of him makes me…” I trailed off, my eyes failing from the paper Justin had written out for me to read over and over as if it was a mantra and by saying it would release a magic aura that would fill me up to the point of being borderline delusional. So that I would believe it, because apparently my acting skills aren’t up to par. But that crap? How in the hell am I supposed to seriously say that without wanting to pull a Houston and gouge my eye out.
This is ridiculous. Justin is ridiculous. Why in the hell did I agree to this?
It’s only been a week and our progress, if you can even call it that, is minimal at best. Everyday I get home the first thing I do is hype Justin to Janice. And the first thing she does is groan, roll her eyes and make up some reason about how she has to leave the house immediately. It’s like the roles have changed, she’s avoiding me. And dammit, if it doesn’t feel bad to come home and have your roommate flee at the sight of you in fear that you might do something horrible like talk to them.
I mean, I listened to all her man crap. Sorta. Kinda. I mean, I was in the room. I was there. My ears were open, so I must have heard something. True, my mind was more focused on an excuse I could use to exit the room. But still. This is clearly different. She’s the happy-go-lucky, glass is half full, giddy, girly one…she should enjoy these talks right? I’m the bitter, who gives a shit about the glass I’m thirsty, loner who naturally runs from emotional conversations like it’s the plague.
I’ve learned to sneak up her on though. So that’s something I guess. If this fake relationship teaches me nothing and helps me to get even farther into ‘nowhere’ then at least I can sleep easy at night knowing that my stalking skills have significantly improved. And who says I’m not a positive thinker.
Not a second after I thought this, the nay-sayer himself stormed into the room. Air reeking of tension and wanting to talk vibes permeated off of him. Well, I would love to stay and chat, but oh darn…it appears that it’s time to take Sadie on her walk.
Lounging on the couch of his trailer with Sadie’s fourteen pounds of white fur weighing and slowing down my escape, I had moved barely an arm in the direction of the door as I was about to sit up before Justin’s brooding form was hovering over me. He lifted the sleeping dog off of my stomach, replacing the weight with his own, as if there was no such thing as internal organs that might not find this situation appealing, and then he put Sadie on his stomach.
My first thought was to curse. Second was to curse while beating him over the head. The third, less fun one won out. Laughing, I said, “Oh, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I think breathing overrated. And my organs…they clearly had been getting a little spoiled what with my chest not being crushed in on them and all.”
Pushing up so he held his weight on his arms now, his mouth reluctantly gave up a smile as if it hadn’t planned on doing that until after it had sufficiently bitch my ears off. “Are you calling me fat?”
“Will it hurt your feelings if I am?”
His smile grew an inch to the right side. “Possibly.”
“Then, no.” I said, pushing my own lips into a smile as I robotically stated, “I would never say something like that because Justin is my boyfriend. I like Justin. He is a good person. He is a great person. Justin is a sexy beast. Just the thought of him makes me…” I trailed off, still unable to finish it.
“Makes you what?” He asked, the damn smile on his face shifting into a smirk.
“Makes me throw up in my mouth a little.” I grinned at his frown. “Just a little though.”
Sighing, he ignored what I’d said. “Since you can’t handle all my man-meat, can we switch positions then?”
I thought about responding to that. Thought about making a biting, sardonically wonderful comment. Thought about…ah, damn, fucking hell. I’ll be nice. I said, “Yeah, okay.”
“Really?” His voice lilted like he was fully expecting me to say ‘no, just get off me.’ You and me both, kid. You and me both.
“Yeah, whatever, just get off of me.” I wheezed, not comfortable in more ways than one.
He stood up, I moved away from the couch and watched as he laid down, where I’d been, before opening his arms to me. I just stared at him for awhile, my mind still on taking that walk, with or without the furry one.
“Just c’mere, woman.” He said, smiling at me as his fingers wiggled at me encouraging me to do as he said.
I continued to stare at his laid down form, wondering where I had gone wrong in life to have to become a Pop Star’s teddy bear. Seeing his mouth about to open, I decided to just shut him up and let myself fall into his arms, landing with a hard thud. I smiled at his groan of pain as I said, “Okay, whatever you say, man.”
I lay still for awhile, my head over his heart, focusing on the number of times his heart beat in a minute to distract myself from the tingling feeling I was getting from his wandering hands. One hand was playing idly with my short curly hair while his other one traced up and down the length of my arms.
Justin is my boyfriend. That’s why I haven’t killed him yet for all this touchy-feely bullshit.
I like Justin. Um, no, try again.
He is a good person. He is a great person. Whatever, just because I didn’t see him torturing helpless animals didn’t mean he was a ‘good’ or ‘great’ person. But I can roll with it.
Justin is a sexy beast. Just the thought of him makes me… His wandering hands became even more adventurous as they slid slowly from my arms to my back, resting momentarily on the small of my back, before easing down over the curve of my ass.
Smacking his death wish-having hands, I pushed myself up so that I was sitting on his chest. “So do you wanna talk about what happened that made you storm in here the way you did?”
“Not really.” He laughed softly, his chuckles stifled by my weight on his chest, but I wasn’t going to get up yet.
“Okay.” I nodded, not moving, perfectly comfortably being the one crushing organs.
“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you. Stop badgering me. But first, I kinda need you to get off of me.”
“Are you calling me fat?” I scoffed, holding my chest as if I was flabbergasted by the thought.
“Nah, baby,” He shook his head, an innocent smile in place. “I’m saying that I can’t breathe, that’s all.” He laughed again, soft and strained.
“So you are calling me fat.” I said, frowning as I stood.
“Girl, shut up. You got a body like Lisa Raye, why do you think I was willing to risk life and limb a minute ago to touch it?”
I rolled my eyes at him, fighting down the smile that wanted to curl my lips upward at his compliment. “Don’t think that this one little compliment is gonna make me not hurt you later on for that.”
He grinned at that, licking his lips slowly. “Why don’t you hurt me now? Hurt me so good, baby.”
Punching him in the arm several times, I said, “Cut the bullshit, stop being stupid and just tell me what’s wrong with you now. I think the bitch is getting restless. This is her walk time.”
He frowned and pulled me down on top of him in one swift, fluid motion. “First of all, don’t call me stupid. Second of all, her name is Sadie. Third of all…” He trailed off, his gaze not meeting mine anymore.
“Third of all?” I prompted.
Laughing, he said, “Sorry, I got sidetracked. Your ass is just like…”
“Justin?”
“Huh?”
“Shut the fuck up, please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
Sitting my head up so that it was resting on my chin on his chest, I said, “Talk. Now.”
“It’s Christina.”
“Who?”
“Aguilera. Who you think? Ricci. I think she has a thing for me.”
This is what he stormed in about? A girl has a crush on him”alert the media. We have breaking news. Rolling my eyes, I said, “Yeah, cause what girl wouldn’t.”
“Not a time for sarcasm.”
“Okay, Mr. Man, sorry, I spoke without permission.”
“Apology accepted.” He smiled.
“Fuku.” I said, in a horrible Chinese accent as I raised the happy finger.
“Maybe later, Sugar Pie.” He winked. “So I think she likes me. Like, likes me, likes me.”
I laughed. “Wow, two ‘likes you’ that’s some serious shit huh? And what grade are we in again?”
“Hey, I’m only one in this trailer who has graduated high school, remember?”
Any traces of happiness drained from my face at that moment. “Again, I say, Fuku.” I spat, punching him in the arm again.
“I heard you the first time. Now can we get back to me please?” He said, grinning at me. The fucker. “She keeps rubbing up against me and shit like a fucking cat or something. Saying things like ‘Do you want to have lunch with me?’”
“So, she’s a little touchy-feely. So are you. And so, she wants to eat lunch with you. That doesn’t mean the woman has secret desires to bone you in a broom closet or something.”
He was silent for a moment. “She told me she was hairless.”
My jaw dropped, didn’t expect that. “What?”
“She told me…” He repeated.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you.” I said, cutting him off. “It’s just a little…uh…”
“Shocking?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what are you going to do about this?”
I frowned. I thought I was already doing my plan of action on this matter: nothing. “What do you mean?”
“I’m your boyfriend.” He said, as if that explained everything.
“Fake,” I interjected. “My fake boyfriend.”
Continuing like I hadn’t said a word he said, “She’s obviously trying to push up on me. So…”
“So, handle it yourself.” I said, frowning at the thought of me riding in as the jealous girlfriend type ready to go to blows over her man. “You have two options, as far as I can see.”
“Which are?”
“Either tell her you’re already happily involved with me.” I laughed at that, couldn’t help it that shit was just funny to me. Us. Happily involved. Puh-lease. “Or fuck her. And so then when I kill you for grabbing my ass, everyone will think it’s because you cheated on me. So they’d let me off easy, calling it a crime of passion.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time, his face scrunched in thought, or gas not sure, as if he was weighing the pros and cons for the two options I’d laid out for him. When he finally spoke again, he said, “You like George Michaels?”
I frowned for a few seconds, before hearing the music playing softly in the background and remembering that I’d turned it on awhile ago. “Yeah, his song ‘Careless Whispers’ is a classic.” I said, laying my head back down flat against his chest. “And besides how great he sounds singing it, I heard he wrote it too. When he was sixteen or something crazy like that. I’m not sure, so don’t quote me on that.”
“Speaking of dancing…” He started, cutting me off. “There’s this party. A birthday party.”
“Hmmm. Who’s birthday?”
“It’s Paris Hilton’s.”
“Okay.” I said, not liking where this was going.
“So I was thinking that we should go.”
“And I’m thinking you’re insane.”
“She invited us.”
“No, she invited you. So you go.”
“I think Diddy’s throwing it.” He said, as if that was supposed to provoke an automatic yes out of me. “His parties are always the best. You’d…”
“No.” It was my turn to cut him off. “No.” I repeated, rising up just enough to see his face and notice he was going to say something else. “It’s one thing to be your fake girlfriend in front of Janice and Richard. It’s one thing to even get more practice in, by pretending in private too. But a celebrity birthday party, Justin? What would I look like at Paris Hilton’s party?”
Before he could answer, the door burst open and I jumped away from him without a thought.
Laughing, he said, “We’re dating, remember?”
I nodded, but still remained standing in the far corner of the room, arms folded against my chest.
The new face who’d barged in began blabbing about how they need Justin back on the set, causing Justin to notice him for the first time. I watched the relaxed happy look on Justin’s face twitch, tilt and get flipped upside down. That’s when the screaming starting. He yelled and yelled about how he’s told them over and over how much he hates when people don’t knock and just waltz in. His eyes were red and doing that bugged-out look that only happened at times like this and his voice was rising dangerously high to the point of squeaking.
Justin was still going off on the poor little man, when I noticed just over his shoulder, Carrie was passing by with a large smile gracing her mischievous face. She said, “I told you he was a little bitch. You owe me twenty now.” She cackled.
I started to laugh too, but Justin fixed me with a hardened stare that choked the laughter in my throat before it could get a chance to really come out.
We were both silent, listening as the other two walked away. Carrie still cackling.
“Looks like work calls.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “But at least think about what I said, okay?”
It was my turn to sigh. “I already thought about it and the answer is still no.”
“But it’s gonna be fun.” He whined.
I shrugged, moving to look for Sadie’s leash. Finding it with her, dangling from her mouth, where she stood expectantly by the door, I took it and strapped it onto her. “Then take one of them models hanger-ons with you.” I said, straightening up again.
He pouted. “I’m tired of those kind of girls.”
“Yeah, so what now you want an ugly one on your arm?” I laughed.
He frowned, not seeming to find it as funny as I did. Tough crowd. “You’re not ugly. I don’t date the uglies…not even fake date.”
Waving him off, I could still feel the linger urge to smile resting on the corners of my lips but I continued to fight it off as I said, “Uh-huh. Okay, whatever. It’s still not happening.”
It was lunch time. We were already in Justin’s car en route to PF Chang’s, which meant we’d already had our daily argument about either taking separate cars or taking my car for once. Once again, Justin’s gas/too embarrassed to be seen in my car argument won.
“You could have brought Christina with you instead of me.” I said, turning my gaze from the LA stop-and-go traffic outside the window to look at his furrowed profile, clearly the traffic was frustrating him.
“Why?” He frowned, glancing at me. “We always have lunch together.”
“Yes, we do.” I nodded. “And you don’t see a problem with that?”
“You’re my girlfriend, why would I see a problem with that?”
“Stop saying that. Get it through your bucket head, I’m not your girlfriend. Fake girlfriend, yes. Nothing more.”
“But I thought you were my Sugar Pie.” He pouted, pretending to cry. Dear God at least I hope he was pretending. What the fuck I was supposed to do with a crying pop star anyways?
“So.” I rationally countered. “You’re…” I hesitated to put the possessive label on it. “…my Honey Bunch. Doesn’t mean I want to eat lunch with you every damn day, though.”
“If you didn’t eat with me, who would you eat with? Nobody.” He said, matter of factly, like he knew me. He didn’t know me.
He was just a lucky guesser. “And your point would be?” I frowned.
We were stopped a red light, so he turned fully to me. “You can’t live your whole life this anti-social.”
Raising my eyebrow, I asked, “Is that a dare?”
He sighed. I seemed to have that effect on him. The sighing, the diverted eyes, the head shaking and/or holding, which probably meant headaches. All my fault. My bad.
Good.
“Can we just have one meal together without the fighting? We’re supposed to be a young in love couple, not a grumpy old married one.”
I let a minute or two pass. Let him pull into PF’s parking lot and find a spot, before I caved. “Fine, I’ll play the role of lovesick fool who breathes in your every word as if it was the very air necessary for life. I’ll smile, laugh at your corny jokes, and pretend not to see the stupid things you do. The whole nine.”
He smiled, genuinely happy by my announcement. “Thank you.” He said, hopping out of his side and rushing over to mine to open it before I could do it myself.
He was still grinning at me as he held the door open and I walked out. “Whatever. Doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy doing it.”
His smile fell. “Of course not, Fi.” He sighed, shaking his head, his eyes diverted. “Cause that would require you to step outside the ‘I’m a bitch and don’t give a fuck about you’ zone you seem to love so much.”
My jaw clenched at the word ‘bitch,’ my eyes glazing over slightly as I heard my mother’s voice play in my head. “You think because you get a couple of A’s, some stupid awards at school and that makes you smart?! You are and always will be just another stupid little bitch. Just a stupid little bitch like Ch…”
She never got further than that. Even though she was angry she usually caught herself there. Stopped before the word could get much farther than the first or two letters. And if she couldn’t stop herself, then my father usually stepped in. One of the rare times he ever stood up for me, directly. He was the peacekeeper between the two of us. The one who after the words had been slung, the lines drawn, scurried back and forth to each side trying to make amends, smooth things back into unstable peace treaties.
I forced my jaw to relax. Took a deep cleansing breath.
Never let them see you cry. I’d learned that a long time ago.
Fuck, not letting them see you sweat. Sweat was fine. It’s the tears you had to worry about. Gave them more power and satisfaction than they deserved. Sucking in my second deep breath, I pushed the mute button in my head on my mother’s grating voice and I noticed Justin’s features had softened. Pity had replaced hostility.
I wanted to slap him. Just to make him angry again. Just to get that damn pitiful look out of his eyes where it concerned me.
I don’t need his damn pity. I don’t need him or this.
But I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything. I just let those feelings flow into my eyes, where he could see it clear as day. Let him feel that heat for a while as I stood tall to my full six foot, back straight and stiff as a board, before I turned on my heel and entered the building wordlessly.
When he finally joined me inside, he was giving off strong ‘I want to apologize’ vibes. I ignored him until we got a table. Was planning on ignoring him for the rest of the day, until he softly kicked me under the table.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
I shrugged off his words, not wanting to give the situation anymore power than it already had. I pushed it under the table and kicked him back. When his eyes met mine I said, “If I was walking around with those ears, I’d probably be snappy too.”
He smiled. A slow one. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it without a word being spoken. I watched as he reached for my hand. I let him take it. Let his fingers glide over mine, rubbing the back of my hand, relaxing the leftover tension away, before entwining our fingers into one hand.
I’d been so busy watching him play with my hand that I didn’t even notice when Charlene had rolled up on our table. “Well, lookie here…why if it isn’t the same two people I’ve been seeing day in and day out, sitting in my station. Again.” She grinned, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. Her hair was cut as short as Eve’s was when she first came out as a Ruff Ryder, it was even dyed blonde. Well, that’s what it looked like today.
Yesterday it was long and flowing down her back, sleek and black. Tomorrow it could be barely brushing her shoulders and curly and wild like mine. Her frame was slender with just the right amount of curves and she used what she had to get the extra tip. Never going as far as to fully step into a realm of skank-a-licious, just a foot in the door.
“So what can I get you today, sir?” She asked, pointedly, staring at Justin.
She always did that. Talked to him as if he wasn’t sitting with someone else. As if I didn’t exist. I’d always boiled it down to this just being part of her ‘get a big tip’ act and let her near dismissal of my presence roll off my back. But this day…
I just wasn’t up for the bullshit. “I want a Sprite. Thanks for asking.” I said, pushing my lips up into a curt smile at her. She blinked, moving her eyes slowly from Justin, who was smiling softly now, to me.
“Alright.” She nodded, her lips mirroring mine and reflecting the same curt smile. “And you, sir?”
“It’s Justin.” He grinned. “And I’ll just have water.”
She smiled at him for a moment too long and the next thing I knew I said, “The man you’re eye fucking right now. He’s my boyfriend.”
I felt two sets of eyes on me when I said that but I ignored the one that didn’t belong to her. She said, “Oh, y’all are dating now?”
Justin spoke up, because I couldn’t. I was too embarrassed that I had actually stepped into the jealous girlfriend role for a moment. “Yeah.” He smiled, I grimaced.
“Oh okay.” Charlene said, the news not really seeming like news to her. Her smile never fell even so much as a fraction of an inch as she stared at us for a while, before nodding her head. “Alright then, let me just get y’alls drinks.”
As soon as she’d strolled away, I sighed. “Don’t say a word.”
He just leaned back into his seat and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“That was just part of the act. We’ve come in for a week as a couple and for a week she keeps doing the sir, this and sir, that…” I said, mimicking her flirtatious voice and movements. “…crap. As your fake girlfriend I just couldn’t take that shit anymore.”
He just nodded, still grinning at me.
Frowning, I said, “Shut up!” Tossed my napkin at his head and we laughed, until he started moving toward our table. Well, technically Justin was still laughing, maybe even saying something too, but I wasn’t listening. My attention focused on the reason I didn’t like coming here.
“What’s wrong?” He said, his laughter dead too, as he frowned at my frown.
Mr. Wrong was standing at our table before I could even open my mouth to start to respond.
“I thought you said were a lesbian.” He said, his tone harsh and angry. His face wrapped into a mask of a smile.
“No, I said, if I dated you…then I’ll probably become one.” I said, my voice low and flat.
The silence that fell in between us was loud, thick and suffocating. Justin cleared his throat, doing what he did best: getting attention. “Hi,” He grinned up at the scowling Martin. “I’m Justin. Fionna’s boyfriend.”
And that’s when I realized Justin had stepped into the jealous boyfriend role. Just great. Just fucking great. They were having a stare down. Testing who had more testosterone clouding his better judgment.
“Martin.” Martin said, simply, extending his hand to Justin. They shook hands strong and stiff.
“Okay, should we have the arm wrestling contest now or later?”
Both men frowned at me, before turning back to each other.
“So how long have you two been dating?” Martin asked, taking a seat next to me.
“Oh, yeah, Martin. Sure you can sit here. I don’t mind.” I smiled at his glare.
“Awhile.” Justin answered, curtly. “How do you know my girlfriend?”
“We have…” he grinned, licking his lips and glancing at me. “History.”
My hands fisted under the table at the thought of our ‘history.’
Martin was one of the first people I’d met when I had arrived at the city of Lost Angels. He seemed so nice then. So helpful. So understanding.
I was wandering around lost, damn near tears, cursing myself for ever thinking that I could make it on my own in the city and that’s when he found me. Sitting on the stairs of a random building, my head in my hands, wondering if it was too late to go back home with my tail between my legs. I don’t remember what he said, or what he’d done to get me to trust him enough to go home with him. I remember being in his apartment. Drinking. He kept wanting me to drink. Then darkness.
I woke up the next morning sore and naked.
I’d never hated someone so quick in my life before. I didn’t even know his name then. He was still snoring peacefully when I’d woken up, I cursed him, cursed my own stupidity softly. After gathering what little had with me, I went back to stand over him. I wanted to strangle him. Hurt him like he hurt me. And I was going to…
I didn’t know what I was going to do exactly, but I was making moves to do it when the phone rang. Piercing the silence and nearly making me jump out of my skin at the sudden sound of it. He just smacked his lips and rolled onto his side. The call went to voice mail. His mom checking on him.
I bit my lip, eyes focused on the view outside his window. Cars choking the streets. Women with more plastic than Barbie on the bodies strutting the streets. Men…
Fuck them.
I swiped at the tears that had escaped, grabbed up my things and moved to the door, showing great restraint and only breaking and 'borrowing' a few of his things as I made my way out.
I thought I’d never see him again. Or at least that's what I’d been hoping. A year later, I’d been working at Jill’s Heel for only a few months then and PF Chang’s had become my home away from home (and home at that time had been my rinky dink car). I was on my way out, walking backwards talking to Charlene probably, laughing at something she said and that’s when we ran into each other. Literally.
I was just about to apologize for running into him, when I realized who he was. He stared at me like I was just another person. Like I was just any ol’ body and we’d never met before. My hands fisted, itching to punch him in his smiling face. Pissed off that something I’d never forget for the rest of my life, was just a small blip in his, unworthy of being remembered.
When he started to apologize his hands still on me, that’s when I saw the recognition hit his eyes. He did remember. But the smile remained. My hands balled tighter, my anger rising to near rage at his indifference. It took a few deep breaths, for me to regain control.
I pushed a smile onto my face and said low so only he could hear, “Don’t ever let me catch you in dark alley alone.”
He continued to grin down at me, with his 6’5” lanky basketball player build. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you even sexier now pissed off and fully clothed than you did vulnerable and naked.”
I hauled off and punched him. Hearing the crack of bones, hoping he’d broken his nose.
At least in my head I had punched him, in reality, I just spit in his face and shoved past him. From that day on, damn near every day he was at PF, posted up against some wall. Watching me.
“Really?” Justin nodded. “So y’all were friends or something?”
“Or something.” Martin smiled.
Charlene came back with our drinks, saw Martin and her expression instantly hardened into a frown. “I heard on the news that the zoo was missing a baboon. And here you are!” She smiled at his frown. “Well,” She said, her voice and stare losing its previous cheeriness as she let a gruff tone take over.
Martin continued to scowl at her for a moment longer before turning his attention to me. He flashed a grin my way, winked and said, “It was nice seeing you again, Fionna.”
We were all silent until the door closed behind him. His heavy cologne still lingering. I’m surprised I didn’t smell him long before I ever saw him coming.
“Sorry about that Fionna.” Charlene sighed. “If he gave us one good reason to kick his ass out we…”
“I know.” I nodded. “I know.”
“So who was that guy?” Justin asked, his eyes bouncing between Char’s face and mine curiously.
When I didn’t say anything, Charlene spoke up, her tone light and fluffy again. “A waste of time and space.” She said, simply. “So what can I get you, sir?” She grinned at Justin.
I listened to her flirt with Justin, glad for the distraction.
“Uh-huh. Okay, whatever. It’s still not happening.”
I had said those words, right? That was me and not my clone in some parallel universe, right?
Well if you couldn’t guess it, Justin got what he wanted. Surprised? Yeah, I just bet you are. I know when overprivileged teenie pop royalty gets his way, it always shocks the hell out of me.
The only reason I gave in to going to this party was that giving him wanted kept him from bugging me to explain Martin. Lord, knows I didn’t want to do that more than I didn’t want to go the party. So I gave in, redirected the conversation to how in order for me to go I was going to need to get some new clothes. In other words he was going to have to get me some new clothes.
Normally, I wouldn’t accept any gifts from him, but this was different. If I was going to be forced to go to Paris friggin’ Hilton’s birthday bash playing the role of Justin Timberlake’s girlfriend, naturally I had to look the part. And that’s where Justin’s bank account came in. Cause mine would keel over and die at the sight of these triple figure digits for a damn dress I was only going to wear once.
Yes, a damn dress. Justin is making me wear a stupid dress. Are you seeing a common theme here of me not wanting to do things and then Justin forcing me to do them anyways?
This shopping spree for a dress had been on going for hours, or at least that’s what it felt like. I’d tried on dress after ridiculously expensive dress, all of which I hated. All of which Justin said I looked 'good' in. But I knew he was just saying that. There was probably some game on TV that he was wanting to rush back to see.
I was currently locked in a dressing room, frowning at myself in the mirror, feeling more and more like the ugly duckling with every dress. But this was the last one, Justin had promised me that. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to go out so he could see. Hating this doll-like role I was playing at the moment, while Justin got to play dress up with me, I stepped out for his inspection. He was reading a magazine and didn’t notice me immediately. So I cleared my throat. Loudly.
He looked up. He stared and said nothing.
Silence. Long. Awkward silence, that made me shift from foot to foot.
Damn, did I look that bad?! I turned back to the mirror, still standing outside the dressing room. I thought this one was okay. It was long and flowing, swept over my feet. Had a corseted tight fitting halter top that was glittery gold, it wasn’t made breathing-friendly, but I dunno…I kind of liked it.
Turning back to him, I frowned and sighed. “Guess that’s a ‘no.’” I muttered, heading back into the changing room.
“No, no, no…” He jumped up as if he’d been shocked back to life. “It’s perfect.” He smiled, his gaze only meeting mine momentarily before it began to wander my body again.
I watched him watching me for a while. Feeling good for a moment about the way he was admiring me, I couldn’t remember the last time a man had stared at me like that and it didn’t make me want to punch him.
A small breeze brushed my exposed skin reminding me that the dress was sleeveless and dipped low in the back and even lower in the front.
“Thanks perv, glad you like this. Cause I ain’t trying on another dress.”
“I hope you can dance.” He said, a moment later from just outside the dressing room door. “You can dance in heels, right? Cause it would be a damn shame to escort the finest looking woman to the party only find out she can’t dance in heels or she can’t dance at all.”
Dressed in my regular jeans and t-shirt outfit, I walked out of the changing room with the dress in hand. “I don’t dance.”
“Oh, you will.” He smiled, taking the dress from me. “You will.”
“Will…not.” I corrected him. “You mean, will not.”
He just smiled wider and walked away.
“I don’t like that look on yo’ face, boy!” I said, chasing after him.
