Shadows and Stars: A Darker Love ✔

Chapter Nine

I'm not sure what possessed me to take a trip to Oxford Street this morning, but as I find myself in an independent dress shop that's swarming with rich, overly made-up women, I contemplate hopping on a bus, going straight home and searching for dresses online instead.

The anticipation of the Christmas party next week seems to be growing stronger with each passing second, and no matter how many times I've tried to calm myself down, I can't help but grow nervous as the event looms ever closer. I still have no dress, and I'm no nearer to finding one either.

I huff as I run my fingers along smooth, colourful and elegant dresses that line the walls, but quite frankly the price tags on these garments are way over my budget. In all honesty, I think the women that have more money than sense are looking at me as if to question why I even set foot in this store in the first place. I ask myself the same question, too.

Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, I edge out of the small store and fly into a larger, cheaper store across the way. The ambience of this place is already more comforting when I step inside, and judging by the teenagers and students that fill the space, it seems the prices here will be much more within my range.

     "Can I help you?" A soft voice asks.

I turn, greeted by a shop assistant that I see from her name badge is named Lara. She's dressed in all black, her blonde hair is twisted neatly into a bun and her smile is so uplifting that it mirrors the brightness of the store itself.

     "Oh," I say, looking about the large store as to where the dresses might be, but I can't seem to spot them. "I'm just looking for dresses—you know—party dresses?"

Lara smiles, extending her arm as to gesture for me to follow her. "Of course," she says, her voice sweet and high. "Please, follow me."

I'm leaded through the store, the sound of Lara's heels clicking on the wooden laminate flooring below us as we navigate through rows of jeans, coats and sweaters, until finally I find myself in a large circle of dresses. I smile, because the variety on offer gives me hope that I can find at least one I like.

     "Here you are," Lara says, smiling intently as she turns to leave the area. "Please give me a shout if you require any further assistance."

     "Thank you." I watch Lara walk away before turning my gaze to the many, bright and glistening dresses in my view.

As I browse the collection, I recall my earlier discussion with Hailey; "Can't I just wear the dress that I got from Saint and City? It's a beautiful dress." To which Hailey replied: "No, you need a brand-new dress for an event this big." And of course I rolled my eyes, but deep down I think I agreed with her—I was just looking for any excuse to not go dress shopping.

The first rack of dresses is a lost cause, but when I move to the next rack, a royal blue, silk strappy dress catches my eye. I pull it out by the hanger, holding it up above myself to get a better look. The dress is short but classy; the bright blue is beautiful on the eye, the thin straps are delicate and the silk material is insanely soft against my fingers. Overall, I think it's perfect.

I take the garment to the dressing rooms, closing the curtain behind me and drowning out the chitter-chatter of the many other shoppers around me as I turn to face myself in the mirror of the cubicle. I've always hated these dressing room mirrors. It's almost as if they're telling you that you need to buy the item you're trying on, because apart from that, you're not looking all that good. I sigh, but continue to remove my clothes and gently slip on the dress.

Twisting and turning in the mirror, I grin like a little girl; the dress is more flattering that I expected. The silk isn't too tight, but is tight enough to enhance the hourglass shape of my body, and the thin straps clasp comfortably over my shoulders. In addition, the way it stops halfway down my thighs somewhat gives the illusion that my legs are longer than they are. It's not sparkly or made of sequins—by any means—but when the material catches the light I notice how it shimmers, resembling the calm movement of water ripples.

I love this dress, and the way my heart shudders as I push my hips to the side confirms just that. In many ways, I'm surprised at how quickly I was able to find a dress that I love.

Noticing that I've probably spent too long in the cubicle, I remove the dress and return it to its hanger before pulling my regular clothes back onto myself. I don't feel as confident anymore. I think how amazing it is that a dress can make you feel so good about yourself. But I smile, shifting the curtain open and carrying the dress to the nearest cashier.

Luckily, the dress doesn't cost the earth, and I even treat myself to a pair of dangling, silver earrings that were on offer next to the till.

A successful shopping trip, I think to myself.

When I arrive home, Hailey wastes no time in removing the dress from the bag and studying it with intent; she will forever be my confidante.

     "Well," she says, spinning the delicate garment a few times in front of her. "I actually love it."

I don't realise that I'm biting my nail as Hailey makes her judgement, but I smile when she approves, nevertheless. "Isn't it beautiful?"

     "It is. I think you'll be turning a few heads, if you know what I mean?" Hailey winks, and I know she's referring to Anderson.

     "This is not what this is for," I tell her, taking the dress back from her grip and hanging it against the bannister. "This is because I want to feel confident again—and have a good night."

"Mhmm." Hailey's not convinced, as usual, but I giggle.

But me going to the party isn't for that reason, I know that myself. Truthfully, I want to feel my usual, bubbly self again, and I want to enjoy myself after what's felt like a lifetime of wasting away in a depressive bubble. As much as I'd give anything to be able to go with Grayson at my side, I have to accept that I can't. So I need to be able to feel good about myself as a single woman, and if wearing a flattering dress is going to help me with that, then wearing a flattering dress is what I will do.

Somewhat annoyingly, my thoughts of the blue dress are disrupted when my phone buzzes from within my coat pocket, and I watch Hailey stalk into the kitchen as I take it out.

It's Anderson:

Hey Mia. It's Anderson. I just wondered if you wanted to share a ride together to the party next week? I can get an Uber and swing past yours on the way? Let me know.

In all honesty, I hadn't even thought about getting there, and given I hadn't even taken any notice to where the party is, I decide to accept Anderson's offer.

Sure, sounds good, I say. Where is the party anyway?

I had planned on finding out this information in the week, but given that Anderson seems even more organised than I am, I allow him to take the lead with the logistics.

In under only a few minutes, Anderson replies:

Great, I'll be at yours for 6.15.p.m. And it's at Pacific Blue – Whitehall.

What?

My blood runs cold.

Pacific Blue. Pacific Blue. Pacific Blue.

I read the words over and over as if I'm rehearsing lines for a play. The colour drains itself from my head downward, the previous feeling of happiness and excitement ripped from my being. This can't be happening—this cannot be real.

Of all the hotels throughout the entirety of London, the Saint and City Christmas party is being held at Grayson's Dad's hotel—the same hotel where Grayson took us on our first date. If I hadn't had read Anderson's message fifty times over, I wouldn't have believed it myself.