oh, anna [-hs]

cherry wine

We pull into the parking lot of a few rows of luxury shops. I press my forehead against the glass, and as soon as the car comes to a stop, I slide out onto the pavement. He locks the car and comes around the hood to grab my hand. With a gentle tug, he pulls me toward the stores.

"What kind of dress?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Black tie," he responds without hesitation.

The door swings wide to the first store. I don't even get a chance to look up at the name of the place as he drags me inside. I look around and my eyes brighten.

The first thing I notice is the smell. It's like a warm christmas candle, mixed with a deep cinnamon scent. It smells cozy, and expensive. The walls are a dark wood panelling with creamy yellow trim. Around the space, there are a few blue chairs and couches. On the walls and racks hang colorful clothes and dresses.

"Good afternoon," a woman in a tailored pencil skirt and blouse comes over to us. Her hair is neatly pinned back. Between her appearance and Harry's outfit, I feel severely underdressed. I look down at what I'm wearing: baggy black jeans and a pale green corduroy jacket. It's cute, but definitely not the vibe.

"Hi there," Harry smiles warmly and lets go of my hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small swatch of fabric that matches his pants. "We're looking for a dress that would compliment this color. On a bit of a tight schedule."

My mouth hangs open as I take in the room and his confidence and determination. The woman takes the swatch, nodding in acknowledgement to the time restriction. She examines it closely.

Does he have a fabric swatch for all his suits? Just on hand like that?

She looks up at me and smiles. "Right off the top of my head I have a few options. Come with me," she beckons. I timidly follow her, looking back at Harry once as I venture deeper into the store. He sticks his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and shoves his tongue into the side of his cheek to prevent an amused smile. "Do you have any guidelines for what you're looking for in particular?"

"It has to go to my knees," I answer meekly. The request feels prudish, childish, but I don't let people see my tattoos. The thought of changing in a dressing room here elevates my heart rate.

But I trust Harry. And it seems like he's having fun. So I'll play along.

"Alright," the woman smiles. It reassures me. She takes me over to a rack of navy blue and silver dresses. "So here are some options that would go very well with this color," she holds the swatch up against the rack. I nod and swallow dryly, my hand reaching up to flick through them. They look like they're dripping dollar signs. I feel guilty for touching them.

My eyes glance over one of the price tags. I almost throw up from nerves.

Twelve thousand dollars? For a dress?

Twelve thousand.

I do not have that kind of money to throw around.

I feel Harry's presence behind me as he gets closer. "I would avoid silver," he directs us. I turn to look up at him quizzically. But he pretends to seal his lips. It must be a part of the surprise. I nod and turn back to the rack.

The woman ponders this, "Hmm, well then I would recommend a gold or bronze," she moves from the rack and steps over to a different one with warmer tones. Fine by me, I look better in gold anyway. "How about this one." She pulls a soft, gold dress from the rack. The silk fabric makes it glimmer in the light. I softly exhale, but then glance at the hem.

"How long is it?"

"This one ends a few inches above your knee," she answers sweetly. My face falls.