Page 18 of Love Rewritten

“Will you come with me to the awards ceremony? It’s in two weeks.” Having Meredith with me would truly make my day. She’s been supportive of my writing since the day we met, and I cannot bear to keep her out of my life any longer.

“A thousand times yes!” She squeezes my hand tighter, practically skipping her way to the field. “What’s the dress code?”

“God, don’t remind me. It’s black-tie. What the hell am I supposed to wear to a black-tie event?” My closet is filled with black clothes, sure, but nothing is nice enough for a black-tie event. “I’ll probably just wear one of my nicer summer dresses.”

“A summer dress? Absolutely not.” She stops again, this time standing in front of me. “You know what this calls for.” She grins wildly, drumming her hands on the nearby bench. “A shopping spree,” she sings.

I roll my eyes at the idea. “Mer, no. I don’t need to buy anything for this.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Oh, come on.” The puppy dog eyes are in full swing. “You have to. And it’s been far too long since we’ve gone shopping together. Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out in the library with you, but it would be nice to get out a little more.”

I sigh knowing she’s not going to let up. “All right, fine. We can go shopping. But I’m not buying anything unless I’m absolutely in love with it, because I’ll likely never wear it again.”

She shrieks with joy and grabs my hand again, skipping the rest of the way to the field with a grin so wide it's contagious.

Meredith insisted on going shopping as soon as possible. “Just in case we don’t find something on the first day,” she'd said. So now, a couple of days later, as I park my bike outside the mall to wait for her, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll need multiple trips to find something. I hate shopping. Unless it’s for something I’m excited about like books or candles, I tend to loathe most shopping experiences.

“Of course, you rode the bike. What happens if you find something big and poofy?” she asks, meeting me at the front doors.

“If I find something big and poofy, I’m going to need you to kill me on the spot.”

She laughs and holds the door open for me. The mall isn’t busy since it’s the middle of the week. Good. Fewer people will see me awkwardly try on dresses. Shops line both sides of the wide hall and sit mostly empty save for the employees and the occasional shopper. Loud music plays in the large open space that echoes through the building.

Meredith comes here more than I do, so I let her lead the way. I follow her past the food court, past a group of stalls selling phone cases and lotions in the middle of the hall. I politely decline when a lady offers to straighten my hair at her booth. No way am I letting some lice-ridden tool near my hair. Meredith leads me toward what appears to be a much fancier store than I can afford. And of course, that’s exactly where we’re headed.

“Mer, I can’t afford any of this,” I say, checking the price tag on a skirt and almost keeling over right then and there.

“Just humor me.” She wanders farther into the store, scanning the racks of dresses.

I pause for a few more seconds but ultimately decide it’s no use fighting this. I wouldn't put it past her to drag me kicking and screaming.

The store is suited for corporate and black-tie events. Men's suits line the walls on one side while women's suits, skirts, and dresses line the other. I imagine this is where Dallas’s mom shops for her wardrobe.

As I scan the racks, I try not to look at the price tags. I could try a few on, humor Meredith for a bit, and then leave to find something more affordable. So, that’s what I’ll do. I grab a dark, navy blue floor-length gown and a black one. Both will likely hug my curves far more than I’m used to. When I find Meredith, she’s already adopted the help of an employee to hold dresses. I hand over the two I found, and Meredith leads me to a full changing room. Multiple dresses hang on every hook, the inside mirror almost fully covered by every type of fabric.

I look at her with wide eyes, but she only smiles. “I said humor me.”

“Do we plan on being here until close? Because I’m pretty sure you crammed the whole store in there.” She bats her eyelashes, hands pressed together like she’s praying. “Fine,” I say, caving to her wishes.

The first dress I try on is an immediate no and I almost refuse to come out of the changing room, but Meredith insists. She fights the laughter when I step out, immediately forcing me back in. The next one is off-white, and I decided it looks too bridal. Meredith agrees. The third could be a contender although the price tag begs to differ.

“I like that one,” Meredith says, as I walk out in a dark forest green dress.

It falls straight, bunching at the floor. A slit rises at the front of my right thigh, stopping in the middle where my serpent tattoo starts to peek out. With how short I am, it would need to be hemmed. That is if the rich version of me were standing here and not the broke, jobless college student. The fabric is tight, hugging my curves, but being velvet, it’s soft enough that it flows freely with my movements. I don’t feel too constricted.

“Do you like the neckline?” Meredith asks, standing up. She eyes me up and down before starting to round the short pedestal I’m standing on.

I look down. The V-neck dips low, revealing a good amount of cleavage but not so much that I feel like my boobs are going to fall out. “What am I supposed to do with these?” I ask, shrugging my shoulders at the tight strips of fabric that hug my biceps.

“It’s called ‘off the shoulder.’ You don’tdoanything with them. It’s supposed to be like that.” The store associate who’s been helping us stifles a laugh. Meredith approaches the front of me again to get a better look. “We can always find one without sleeves if you don’t like them. Come on, try this one on. This one’s sleeveless.” She pulls the skirt of another dress out of the changing room just far enough for me to see the fluffy red fabric covered in sparkles.

I raise a brow at her. “I’m vetoing that one.”

“You haven’t even tried it on.”

“Nope, and I’m not 'humoring you’ on this one.”

She takes another look at it before sighing and handing it to the associate to put back. “Fine. One more, though, please?”

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