Gold Weaver | ✓

eins

Martha said my judgmental side stemmed from insecurity and as I looked around at the perfect bodies around me, decorated in expensive lingerie, I realised maybe she wasn't entirely wrong.

I didn't know where to look. Despite the dim lighting, I could see everything from underwear to whips.

"Is that a—?" Yep, that's definitely a dildo mounted to the wall. Some people have reindeer heads sticking out of their walls, others have dildos.

"Oh my god," she let out on a breath. She was in front of a mannequin displaying some of the skimpiest pair of bra and knickers I'd possibly ever seen. And that was coming from a girl who helped Martha get ready when she went on the pull. "It's so..." Slutty? Desperate? Tacky? "Beautiful."

My head swung towards her. "You can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious in my life," she said, looking like she was about to worship the set. "More serious than when I told Danny Fawkes that I loved him."

I scrunched my eyebrows. "But you didn't love him," I said. "That was a blatant, blatant lie."

She shrugged. "But he believed it."

"You know he was completely besotted with you," I told her, trying to avert my eyes from literally everything. "Your mum told me he still asks about you."

She waved her hand, dismissively. "What's done is done."

I rolled my eyes at her uncaring attitude. These were someone's feelings we were talking about, not some film she didn't like or something.

Instead of badgering her further, though, I dropped the subject.

"I'm getting them," she told me, reaching for the cabinet in which they were all kept. She pulled out her size, coincidentally being mine, too.

"Do you really need any more?"

"Not for me," she said, walking towards the till. "For you."

I stood still, in shock. Hurriedly, I raced after her, reaching her just as the girl behind the desk scanned the tag.

"You can't buy them for me," I told her.

"Of course I can."

"What I mean is," I said, using her hips to turn her to face me. "I don't want you buying them for me."

"I'm getting them for you whether you like it or not."

"Well then I'll just return them and give you the money back," I told her, staring into her dark brown eyes.

A voice broke out from my left. "You two make such a lovely couple."

I turned to the girl behind the desk. She wore all black, like all the employees and kept her blonde hair in a low ponytail that she somehow managed to pull off without looking like a potato.

"Oh we're not—"

"Why thank you," Martha said, grabbing my hand for emphasis. "Two years and counting. Right, baby?"