Maria looked to me, as if asking if this was okay. I hadn't really ever thought of myself as short (but compared to Oliver I was) so I didn't really see the need for a drop waist or whatever that was. Oliver seemed to know what he wanted though, as I'd expect from a 600 year old vampire. I shrugged back at her before she yanked me into the depths of the store.
And there, in all of their poofy, sparkly, tool, fitted splendor, were the ball gowns. Mermaid dresses, ball gowns, A-line skirts, cocktail dresses, bridesmaids' gowns. Mindlessly, my hand skimmed the one-of-a-kind, handmade dresses, feeling the silks and satins brush my finger tips. Oliver tried having me pull back but Maria scolded him. "Let her look. You're here for her, aren't you?" she demanded. She brought us to the fitting room area, which had a little sitting area where I guess friends and family could sit and wait while their bride or daughter tried on the dresses. There was a small walkway against what looked like one of those mirrored walls that you see in ballet studios. You could walk around it on either side to find the fitting room. I sat down with Oliver on a large leather couch before Maria pulled me up again.
"Let me have a look at you", she demanded. Maria tucked two fingers under my chin, lifting my head up so she could examine me. Slowly she walked around me, like we were in some kind of interrogation room before nodding. "I'll be back", Maria stated. "Go pick one of the dressing rooms and get your clothes off."
"Why can't she just do it out here?" Oliver snickered. Maria's eyebrows came together before she smacked him in the back of the head. "Oi. What did I-"
"I want all of my girls to feel like the royalty there are", Maria barked. "Not like common street trash."
"Well, some of them are-"
"Just like you. You-" Maria pointed at me. "Get in the back. You-" she pointed to Oliver. "Be quiet till we come back." Silently, I walked around the mirror to the back rooms and found one towards the end. There was a small door, a little white shutter door, and a mirror inside. Otherwise, it was basically a white box with black carpet. I didn't look in the mirror. I didn't want to. Like I told Oliver, I had stupid hair and dirty finger nails. My skin wasn't evenly toned. I didn't have the naturally red lips. I wasn't some doll.
My mind crawled back to Oliver and the bodices. He was ancient and probably had his fair share of girls. Not that I minded, obviously. We were just friends. Absolutely just friends. But what had they looked like? What if one of those bodices belonged to Marilyn Monroe? Marie Antoinette? Queen Elizabeth (virgin queen, my ass)? How the Hell was I supposed to compete with that? My self pity came to an end when Maria came bursting in with a slew of dresses.
"Oliver was right", she said. "We need something to bring out your eyes."
