"Does it look like I'm the type to wear ruffles?"
The question itself was harmless enough, but coming from the voice that uttered it, it came across like a serious death threat instead. Lucy and I stopped short from entering a nearby dressing room, distracted by the drama unfolding before us.
Near the end of the row of identical dressing rooms, there were two women in a Mexican standoff. One was a sales rep, holding up an outlandish, ruffly garment in light grey; the other (I assumed) was a customer wearing a tight black tank and ripped jeans, showing off her solid curves and sculpted muscles in her arms.
Being a regular at Bloomingdales, I instantly recognised the sales rep by her signature thick mask of makeup and strawberry blonde hair, shellacked into a bun so tight that it gave her a facelift. The other woman had her back to us so I couldn't make out who she was, but her wild, jet-black curls looked oddly familiar.
"Don't be so closed-minded, miss. I think you should try it first!" Marsha the Sales Rep suggested cheerily, the cakey foundation on her forehead visibly cracking from repressed emotions.
I pursed my lips in quiet disapproval. Never mind the ruffles, the customer's deep chocolate skin would definitely appear ashy in that shade of grey.
A distinct growl reached my ears and I tilted my head. Where have I heard that before?
"Closed-minded?" The customer took a menacing step towards Marsha and I knew it was time to step in.
"Marsha?" I called to the sales rep, whose bottom lip had begun quivering in fear.
Marsha's pale blue eyes shot to mine and widened with recognition...and relief.
"Oh dear! Miss Winters, it's been a while!" Her usual calm voice had panic sprinkled all over it. The customer whipped around, furious at the interruption, and I stumbled slightly when I saw her face.
"You." Tara Braden's black eyes narrowed at me.
Of all the places in the world.
Lucy's spine stiffened beside me upon recognising the she-wolf. She reached out to stop me from approaching, but I carried on nonetheless.
"Tara! Fancy seeing you here," I said with a friendly wave. Her eyes narrowed further, stopping me in my tracks. "Can I help?" I tried to hide the dread in my voice upon seeing the vein that pulsated in Tara's neck.
Marsha, however, took my invitation like a lifeline. "What a wonderful idea! I can see you two are friends. Miss Braden, I'm sure you'll appreciate Miss Winter's input—she's a stylist after all." She dramatically glanced at the invisible watch on her wrist and gasped.
"Oh wow, look at the time. If you'll excuse me, I gotta go for my lunch break." Before anyone could say anything, Marsha had dashed out of the dressing room area in a flurry of ruffles and heady perfume.
Tara glowered at me with her strong arms tightly crossed over her chest.
"I don't need your help, witch."
The corner of my brow twitched involuntarily. "Marsha certainly did." I cut the air between us with a wave. "You looked close to murdering her over ruffles."
"Lena, let's go," Lucy called out dryly.
I stood between my sister and Tara, shifting from one foot to another.
"Tara," I started with a sigh. "I offered to help. I meant it. What are you looking for?"
Tara's dark eyes simmered and she crinkled her nose, as if deep in thought. A noncommittal sound came from my sister. "What is it with you and werewolves?" Lucy murmured and I rolled my eyes at her in reply.
"Well?" I asked impatiently.
After a long beat, Tara threw her hands up in the air in defeat.
"Fine. Something formal," she uttered curtly.
I felt my lips crack into a genuine smile. "Got it. Dress or pants?"
Tara averted her eyes to her sneakers for a moment before she looked at me again, her black eyes swirling with palpable frustration. "A dress. I need a fucking dress by tonight and I have nothing in my wardrobe other than rompers and jeans," she admitted almost in a groan.
A laugh started at my throat, but I disguised it as a cough. Last thing I needed was for her to turn her murderous rage against me instead.
"Budget?"
"Whatever, I don't care. As long as it looks good on me."
I raised my brows. "The best kind of budget."
I turned to Lucy, nodding to the sequin dress in her hands. My sister stared at me pointedly but then handed the dress over with a reprimanding huff.
I closed the distance and held out the shimmery dress to Tara.
"You'll look gorgeous in emerald. I'm guessing you're a size ten?" I assessed her body and height. Tara crossed her arms again, this time out of clear discomfort. Fortunately for me, the bulging vein in her neck had begun to disappear.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Okay. This is a size eight but it's lycra so it's stretchable."
Tara's eyes studied the dress sceptically. "Sequins?"
"Better than ruffles," I retorted with a smile.
After further coaxing, Tara finally accepted the dress and disappeared behind the dressing room curtain. I waited on the other side, my stomach fluttering with anticipation.
"While you're playing dress-up with a werewolf, I'm going to shoe department," Lucy said in a mocking tone.
"I heard that," Tara mumbled from inside the dressing room and I smiled apologetically at Lucy.
"I'll text you when I'm done?" I asked sweetly.
Lucy shook her head exasperatedly with a small smile dancing on her mouth.
"What am I going to do with you, Lena?" she scolded playfully before leaving.
Another question came from behind the curtain. "Is that your sister?"
"Yeah, Lucy. She's actually sweet most of the time."
"To people other than werewolves, you mean?"
I shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. Most witches are."
"Except you."
I smiled at that. "Except me."
Silence.
I was about to say something with the curtain flew open, revealing Tara in the sequin dress, fidgeting like an eel.
No bueno.
The dress was far too tight around the curve of her hips, although it fit her chest just fine. Tara was a classic pear shape, with a fuller bottom and leaner top. Nevertheless, the colour looked stunning on her, so at least, that was a good start.
"It looks like a fucking prom dress," Tara said blandly.
I flinched, noticing the truth in her words. "It does," I agreed with a heavy nod.
"Are you sure you're a stylist?" She asked accusatorially, her eyes running over my sloppy ensemble. I adjusted my aviators and cleared my throat.
"Laundry day," I lied.
Tara cocked her brow. "Sure."
"Anyway, don't lose hope on me yet. Hang tight," I said before venturing off to hunt for the perfect dress.
Moments later, I returned with three options, all in emerald green. Tara was still standing in the dressing room, fidgeting.
"You want me to try all those on?" she complained.
I laughed lightly. "Gotta kiss a few frogs before you find the prince, right?"
Tara stared at me like I was crazy but nonetheless, she swiped the dresses off my hands and closed the curtain again. The first two dresses looked great on her, but didn't have that 'wow' factor I was looking for. Tara was more than eager to pick one of them just to be done with it, flashing her haughty dark eyes at me every time I tried to convince her otherwise.
"One more dress, I have a feeling this might be it!" I said to Tara's reflection in the dressing room mirror as I leaned against the threshold. She narrowed her eyes at me once more.
"You better be right, witch," Tara hissed menacingly.
"Trust me."
"Never trusted witch. I won't start now."
I pouted. "You will after this last one," I muttered and slid the heavy curtain shut.
A rustle of clothing filled the gap of silence between us, and suddenly I had the urge to speak to cut through the awkwardness.
"What you came up with Kaiser was genius. The Invitation Vial thing."
Surprisingly, Tara answered with a chuckle. "All Kaiser's idea."
"I thought he wanted the naked fairies."
An awkward pause ensued, before Tara spoke again, "That was mine."
My jaw dropped momentarily before I snapped it shut.
"Oh," I remarked, not quite knowing what to say.
Thankfully, the curtain slid open again, and Tara regarded me with an uncharacteristically nervous brow.
"I can't reach the zipper," Tara cautiously said, both palms pushing up against her chest to keep the dress from slipping. I smiled reassuringly, finding her sudden nervousness endearing.
"I got it. Turn around."
She did as she was told. My hands caught the end of the zipper, pulling it up with relative ease until the edge of the fabric. I surveyed Tara's reflection in the mirror with pride. The dress fit her figure like a glove. It was a sweetheart neckline, mermaid fit-and-flare, which complimented her pear shape beautifully. The material of the dress was pearly satin, and it criss-crossed at the torso to further emphasise her tiny waist.
"Now this dress..." I smiled appreciatively. "...is your prince among the frogs."
Tara seemed in awe of her own reflection, her eyes sparkling as she pivoted left and right, with a hint of a smile on her lips. From previous interactions with her (which was honestly abysmal), making Tara smile was a chore in itself, so I gave myself a mental pat in the back for a job well done.
"Wow Lena..." she seemed at loss for words.
That was the first time she called me by my name, so I couldn't stop myself from beaming. "You look absolutely beautiful, Tara. Everyone will drop dead when they see you."
Tara turned her nose up at her reflection. "I hope they do. Literally."
My curiosity piqued at the statement. "What occasion is it?"
She met my eyes through the mirror briefly.
"A formal one, like I said."
I scoffed, trying my best to hide my eagerness. "Come on, you can tell me."
Tara took a deep breath in and exhaled wearily, her strong shoulders drooping.
"It's an engagement dinner," she explained nonchalantly.
In an instant, my blood ran cold and I straightened, awareness prickling at the thin skin of my ears.
"For who?" The voice that came out of my mouth sounded completely alien to me, like it was summoned from the deepest part of my gut.
Tara turned to me then, the shadow of a smile dropping from her face.
"Can you help me pick out my shoes, too?" she asked as an obvious deflection.
The dressing room area seemed to close in on me, and I could feel my throat tightening up with every breath. I kept my expression neutral as possible when I asked the question again, even though I already knew the answer.
"For who, Tara?"
Tara returned my gaze with resignation. "For me."
No...
Her next words resounded in my ears like a muffled ringing. "And Alpha Magnus."
It seemed like eternity before I regained my wits again, and by then Tara was already observing me with a confused expression. "Lena, hello. Are you okay? You have to promise to keep it to yourself, alright? Or I swear to Moon Goddess I will kill you."
"I-I..." I stammered like an idiot. I could feel the blood draining from my face and that all-too-familiar feeling of tears welling up in my eyes again.
"I gotta go. Congratulations on the engagement," I said in a rush, before turning on my heel and walking away dazedly.
The last thing I heard Tara saying was, "Wait! Aren't you going to help me pick out my shoes?" I pretended not to hear and quickened my pace, nearly tripping over my boots at the entrance.
The chandelier and marble floors were quickly losing its appeal by the second, and I couldn't wait to get out of Wonderland then.
Magnus and Tara.
I pictured the two together as I exited Bloomingdales and stopped on the sidewalk, doubling over to catch my breath.
They were perfect for each other. One was an Alpha, the other the daughter of one. If anyone could make him get over me, it would be Tara Braden. She was strong, beautiful, and conveniently a werewolf. I should be happy for Magnus.
So why did it hurt so fucking bad?