Page 26 of Never Ever Getting Back Together

But how the hell am I supposed to ignore her when she’s alwaysthere,reminding me of what happened? Smirking at me?

Luckily, a distraction comes in the form of a short red-haired woman who’d been helping one of the other girls into a dress. She steers a clothing rack full of outrageously expensive-looking gowns over to me. “Maya, hi,” she says in a Chalonian accent. “I’m Saskia, lovely to meet you, lovely. These, we believe, will be your size. Try them on, see which ones fit, and when I come back you can model them for me and we will choose together,sa?”

“Sa.” I smile. I pointedly turn my back to Skye so I can focus on the task without her stupid face distracting me, and scan the choices. My stomach flips as I do. I’ve never seen so many beautiful things in my life. I get to try them all on? Andwearone on camera? Immortalizing the night I get to look like a legit fairy princess?

Things are looking up.

I turn to Isaac, who’s beaming at me. “You don’t need my permission,” he says. “Go on. You can jump in one of the empty rooms if you want privacy.”

A couple of the other girls are changing where they stand, while their producers fuss over the dresses with them. Hmm, brave, but I’m gonna go with option B: privacy. To be fair, I didn’t raid the liquor cabinet all afternoon like some people, so.

I find a mostly empty ballroom a few doors down and lay down the dresses on the long table in the middle, then set about performing a fashion show for Isaac. And Skye, I guess,Skye’s there, too, but I totally don’t see her because she is nothing to me and I’m ignoring her.

There’s a slinky, sequined Jessica Rabbit gown in a shade of red that I think looks like trash—elegant trash, but trash—against my hair, but that Isaac insists makes me look just like the character. Skye might screw up her nose at this one, but I wouldn’t know, because I don’t see her at all.

Next is a sky-blue ball gown complete with a hoop skirt that Isaac had his heart set on—apparently it’d make me the center of attention at the party—but doesn’t fit quite right in the bust. That one Iveryfirmly reject, because I was not born yesterday, and I know for a fact that if the worst happens and I accidentally flash everyone, it’ll end up as a blurred-out promo shot for the first episode.

“You could try stuffing your bra?” Skye asks in a syrupy sweet voice, but I don’t hear her, and therefore I do not respond. Besides, even if Ididhear her, I don’t engage with terrorists.

Following that is a champagne-colored, slinky silk dress that Isaac describes as classic, and I describe as “if the raunchiest lingerie you ever saw was turned into an Oscars gown.” It’s possible Skye double-takes when I emerge in this one, but, who knows? Not me.

Then, a forest-green empire-waist dress that I initially call as the front-runner just because it’s my favorite color to wear, but honestly, once I have it on it’s a little plain. I figure if you’ve got one shot to wear a glorious princess gown, you don’t choose the dress that you could wear to attend someone else’s wedding without showing them up. Nope, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to sparkle, goddamn it.

Finally, there’s the gown that caught my eye at the start. It’s made of all these elegant, floaty layers of lavender-gray tulle, with adorned off-the-shoulder sleeves and detailedflowers covering the bodice. I wasn’t sure the color would suit my hair, but now that it’s on, it actually looks… beautiful.

Huh.

I linger for a little too long in front of the mirror, just staring at myself, but, honestly, it’s not a feeling I’m used to. We never had a whole lot of money for things like fancy clothes, growing up. Mom had to support all three of us on her own, after all. It’s not something that ever bothered me. It was just life, the only life I knew, and we were happy. But then I met Jordy, and his endless designer labels. Jordy, whose eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw my house for the first time. Jordy, who made two things very clear: one, that having money, and lots of it, made a person worth more in every sense of the word; two, that he didn’t think I was smart enough to earn a whole lot of it myself. He made a comment once about how he couldn’t see me going to college, because I used the wrong “they’re,” and I was like, dude, there’re three versions of that word, who can keep them all straight?

Anyway, he was wrong. And in a few years… or, like, a decade or so… I’ll be able to afford dresses like this all by myself. When I’m a doctor, no one’s ever going to call me dumb, or trashy, again. And I can’t fucking wait for it.

Even if it means I have to go to med school to become a doctor.

Content, I swoosh myself—all three tons of me, if you include this monstrosity—back to Isaac, who’s fiddling with the strap on Skye’s dress. They both look up as I approach. “Yes, definitely, love it,” Isaac says.

Hard to say what Skye’s reaction is, but it’s possible she scans me slowly—achingly slowly—from head to toe, then turns away in annoyance. And if I hypothetically did see her do that, I’d feel victorious, because that’s a sure sign I actually look great.

Across the room, Saskia glances our way, and double-takes with a smile touching her lips. I grin at her and twirl my skirt, and she gives me a thumbs-up.

The next half hour is a blur of being checked over for fit, with Saskia and her assistant rushing around making temporary alterations to straps and sticking necklines in place with tape. Shoes and accessories are easier—apparently this dress has a pair assigned: strappy, creamy heels that I can justtellare going to take off a chunk of skin around my toes—and a simple Tiffany swan pendant that’s still fancier than anything I’ve worn in my life. Then we’re herded into the front grounds for our first real taste of being in front of the camera.

We start with a portrait photoshoot for them to use in promo. They whisk Skye away first and pose her in front of a fountain surrounded by softboxes to capture the perfect light. Her smile is charismatic and a little cocky. The way she stands, you can justtellshe considers herself the main character of everyone’s story, and has never been given a reason to doubt it. In this lighting, her deep brown eyes are more of a toffee color, and her tanned skin looks bright and blurred. Like if you were to run a finger over her cheek, it’d glide across like velvet.

No wonder Jordy left me for her. She’s actually stunning.

That bitch.

Before I can follow that thought train down into a tunnel of existential despair and self-pity, Perrie sidles up beside me. She’s wearing a champagne gown with a slit up the leg, but where the dress I’d tried on in that color had washed me out, on her it’s gorgeous against her dark brown skin. Even in the afternoon sun, she looks moonlit. “Lovethis,” she says, gesturing to my dress. “It’s a crime that I can’t take the camera here tonight. It’s the best we’ve looked.”

“They’re professionals, at least?” I say.

Perrie scoffs. “That guy? He’s about as artistic as the peoplein the post office taking passport photos. I want, like, a moody close-up in those bushes over there, or a rooftop shot in the wind. All these options, and they really went for ‘stand and smile in front of the fountain.’”

“You’re right, and you should say it.”

“Someone has to.”

Skye finishes up, and Isaac beckons me to go up and take her spot. She can’t resist staring me down as we swap, and for a second I think she’s going to elbow me on her way past. But, no. Not with this many cameras on us, anyway.

---