Page 57 of Lucky Shot
EIGHTEEN
NOAH
I try notto text Demi all day. I know he’s with his brother and I don’t want to interrupt that. As someone who has always wanted a sibling for that kind of bond and unconditional friendship, I definitely didn’t want to get in the way of them spending time together.
Not that I think all siblings are close. I’ve known many who were not. At all.
Besides, Demi has hinted that his brother might be going through some shit right now. It makes me all warm and tingly inside, knowing that he’s there for his brother.
But now I’m wandering around my house aimlessly as if I’ve only just moved in and don’t know what to do with myself. What do I normally do in the summer? I don’t recall feeling so bored and anxious in the past. How am I usually entertained?
No answer comes to me. I try to think back to last summer, but I’m still drawing a blank.
Glancing out my window, I see Ibis and Kyst in Ibis’s backyard. I love how the rich and famous name their kids with strange names. At least he’s not a fruit. Or a vegetable. I suppose it could be worse. I didn’t even think Kyst’s parents were as eccentric as Ibis’s and his name is still strange.
Names were weird.
Deciding I am definitely losing it if I’m musing over how people name their kids, I head into the living room and contemplate a movie. Something that will capture my attention. But my gaze catches on the pretty pink pillow my grandmother made, which plunges my thoughts into my hidden closet.
I can totally spend time with all my pretties right now. Can’t I?
Making my way through the entire house, I make sure all the doors are locked and the curtains drawn. Not that I plan to put any of it on and parade around my house. That’s a level of bravery I just don’t have.
When everything is battened down as if I’m expecting a hurricane, I head into my bedroom. I shut the door, locking it behind me before entering my closet and shutting that door too. I push the clothes that are hanging on the back wall to either side and gently push on the wall until I hear the quietclickof the latch letting go.
Then I push it open further and flip on the light.
I’m not sure what this closet was originally used for. It was a completely blank slate when I moved in. Its walls were white. The floors were wood planks, it had a nondescript light fixture and nothing else.
The first thing I did was install built-in hanging closet sections along one wall and then around the door. The back wall has cubbies, and opposite the hanging clothes is a low bank of drawers that span the rest of the space. I placed an ultra-plush rug on the floor and then a huge bag chair in the middle of the room.
I know. The bag chair seems out of place, right?
Moving through the space, I drop into the chair and take a deep breath. This is exactly why I have the bag chair. So I can sit here among my pretties and admire them.
There are dozens of dresses. Probably more than most women own. I haven’t put a single one on, though. It wasn’t until talking to Demi that I think I might have figured out the truth of why.
I always told myself it was because someone could come to the door, and I’d be caught. But I think the real reason is because I don’t want to dress myself. I want to be dressed. I want someone to put me together and then admire me.
I’ve been told I’m pretty my entire life. But it’s never been the kind of pretty I want to be.
Reaching out, I run my fingers along the hem of a velvet dress. It’s dark blue. Navy. There are shoes that go with it, though I doubt they’ll fit me. As much as I want to wear dresses and lace underwear, I’m not the biggest fan of women’s shoes. They look… uncomfortable.
I have a few pairs of flats. I think they’re as adventurous as I’ll be willing to go in shoes.
On my dresser are a few tiaras. Headbands. Barrettes, hair ties, and other things. I don’t have much makeup. Eyeliner which I wear sparingly. There’s also an entire row of nail polishes.
This room feels incredibly removed from my life. Like it’s a different reality. One I haven’t fully been accepted into.
My fingers move off the velvet to a cotton sundress. I’m indiscriminate about material. It’s all about what it looks like. How I imagine I’ll look wearing it. Which is truly all conjecture since I’ve never stepped foot in a dress.
In my drawers are other adventurous things I’ve never put on. Lingerie. Some role-playing things. I even have a custom-made mage costume that’s based on my favorite outfit from the game. But you know, sexier.
There are other things too. Skirts and shirts and crop tops. T-shirts with hearts and stuff. Pretty nighties. I’ve always indulged in clothing that I’ve never actually put on.
I’m just not brave enough for that. But I want to be.
No. What I want is to have someone to share this with. Someone who wants to see me in these things as much as I want to wear them. Someone who will dress me up, praise me until I’m nearly salivating, and then fuck me until I don’t know my name.
