Page 95 of Wicked Spite
Reagan
The store’s entrance seems to swallow us whole as we step inside, the scent of new fabric luring us in. I can feel the excitement buzzing through our group, and I can’t help but smile. Reese’s eyes widen with delight, taking in the endless racks of clothes that promise a world of possibilities. I told him he didn’t have to, but Penn insisted that Reese take his black card and buy whatever the two of us wanted. She’s been stuck in those drab pleated skirts and navy sweaters from her private school for so long. I wanted her to have some things she can express herself in.
“Alright, Reese, let’s find you something badass,” I say, scanning the room for any piece that would suit her. Oakley and Iris agreed to skip their classes and come along with us, which I’m grateful for. Iris is so preppy and Oakley so soft and girlie that I think we can all help Reese find her own style.
“Reagan, they don’t have fishnets or combat boots in here,” Iris chides me playfully, earning a laugh from Oakley and myself.
“Nope, but guess what they do have?” I retort, spotting theperfect item. I grab a sleek leather jacket from a nearby rack and hold it up for Reese to see. “Try this on. Embrace your inner edgy goddess.”
Reese hesitates for a moment before shrugging and taking the jacket from me. Slipping into the smooth leather, she looks at herself in the mirror; the jacket fitting her petite frame perfectly.
“Wow, Rae, I didn’t think I could pull this off, but it actually looks really cool,” she admits, studying her reflection with newfound confidence.
“See? I knew it’d look amazing on you,” I tell her proudly, my heart swelling with affection.
“Nice choice,” Oakley interjects, holding up a flowy dress. “But what about something like this to go under it? It’ll bring out your softer side, Reese.”
“Ooh, I like that one too,” Reese agrees, reaching for the dress.
“Wait!” Iris interrupts, brandishing a pair of booties. “You have to try these on too. I’m mad they don’t have my size.” She playfully pouts.
I can’t help but smirk at Iris’s enthusiasm, and I tell my sister, “Alright. The store is yours. Go wild.”
“Thanks,” Reese grins, heading for the fitting rooms with her arms laden with clothes we’re tossing at her as we move through the racks.
As we watch Reese disappear behind a curtain, I can’t help but marvel at how she’s grown over the years. She’s still sweet and innocent, but there’s an underlying sassiness that makes me proud to call her my sister. And now, surrounded by friends who care about her, I feel grateful for the support system we’ve found here.
“May the fashion gods be with her,” I whisper, smirking as Iris and Oakley laugh in response.
Reese emerges from the fitting room in a new outfit, a mix of my edgy style, Oakley’s whimsy suggestions, and Iris’s preppy chic. The juxtaposition of styles has us all grinning, but there’s something undeniably captivating about the way she pulls it off.
“Yes, Reese! You’re fucking killing it!” Iris puts her fingers up to her mouth and makes a shrill cat call.
“Thanks, Iris. I like this combo, too.” Reese blushes and twirls, the flowy skirt billowing out around her.
Iris smirks, flicking her long hair behind her shoulder. “A little bit of all of us, I’d say. Not a bad combination to have. It’ll have boys eating out of the palm of your hand,” she says with a wink.
“What do you think?” Reese glances my way with a knowing smile.
“You look cool as fuck,” I admit, returning her grin. It’s moments like these that make me feel truly blessed to have Reese in my life.
Turning to Oakley, she cocks her head to one side. “Did you see those viral milkmaid dresses over there? Looks like they’re getting ready for spring.”
Oakley cranes her neck, and her eyes widen. “Oh my God, Jeremiah will love those.” She gets up and heads toward the rack of pink and floral ruffles that you couldn’t pay me to wear.
“I don’t think they make them in his size,” Reese jokes, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration that Iris and Oakley have taken the time to come with us today. “I can’t wait to develop my own unique look. I don’t know what I like. I’m so used to wearing my uniforms or my dance outfits, but eventhose are pretty drab because they have to match the school dress code.”
“Alright, let’s find you some more outfits!” Oakley exclaims, clapping her hands together, her petite frame overpowered by the dresses she has piled up. “We’re just getting started.”
“Thank you, guys. Seriously,” Reese says with a smile that reaches her eyes, exuding confidence and excitement as she heads back to the fitting room.
A big brooding man catches my eye as I rifle through a rack of purses, searching for the perfect accessory to complete Reese’s outfit. The store is full of shoppers, but my eyes focus on Ramsey as he tries to blend his large frame into a store overrun with women half his size.
“Reagan!” Reese calls out excitedly as she emerges from the dressing room, her arms laden with clothes. “What do you think about pairing this choker with the bodycon dress?”
“Looks great,” I respond absentmindedly, my focus still fixed on the entrance where Ramsey Blackwood is lingering. Why is he here?
“Something wrong?” Reese asks, noticing the tension in my expression.
