Notes: Set after the attack on Bastard but before the Destroyers' big debut.
Dedicated to all the people out there who've struggled to find a dress that fits.
Dress Me Up
Get something bright and flashy, Galahad had told her. Something that catches the eye and won't let go.
Alex isn't exactly sure what he means by that. The white dress she'd worn at her Bastard debut had been plenty flashy. It'd been one of the dresses Worick bought for her when the sad state of her wardrobe had become all too apparent. And that man doesn't know how to be anything but flashy.
Still, it's a request from her new employers. Alex doesn't want to disappoint them.
Besides, she promised the boys she'd try. As everyone constantly makes a point to tell her, she can't stay with Benriya forever.
Alex scans the list and compares it to the items filling the bag she holds. Snacks to eat. Pall Malls for Worick. The bottles of Perrier in Nicolas's arms. Looks like they covered everything. She glances at the sky. With plenty of time to spare, too. In fact, it's early enough that she can probably take care of Galahad's request now.
She taps Nicolas on the shoulder. Juggling the bag to free up both her hands, she signs, "Can you take this and go on ahead?"
Nicolas doesn't look at her. Not straight on, anyway. He never does. Instead, he watches her hands sidelong.
He also doesn't make a move to take the bag from her.
Alex fights the urge to fidget. Her signing can't be that bad. She's been practicing, and he hasn't made any comments about sloppiness lately. "I have an errand to run."
He turns his head then, a frown curving his lips.
"I need to buy something," she explains. There's nothing wrong with what she's doing. Alex has no reason to keep it a secret. "A dress."
The frown deepens. His free hand moves and it takes Alex a moment to parse the signs. "Worick already bought you some."
"I need a new one," she says. "Don't worry. I have money." The pay for less than an hour of singing had astonished her. Alex hadn't expected that, not after the way the night had ended up. But Loretta had pressed the crisp bills into her hand and thanked her for a job well done.
Alex thinks the young mob boss meant her singing, but she's not completely sure.
Nicolas shakes his head and gestures for her to keep walking.
Frustration arcs through her. "It shouldn't take long," Alex says. "I'll be back before…" She realizes Nicolas is pointing in a direction completely different from the one that leads home. "You're coming with me?"
He raises both brows, clearly unimpressed with her question.
She flushes hot. Then cold. And hot again. Shoot. She has to get herself under control. It's one thing for Worick to come with her dress shopping. It's another if Nicolas does. He didn't seem to like it the last time, based on how he'd arrived late during her fittings. "You don't have to do that," she says quickly.
It's dangerous, him coming with her. Running errands are one thing. Buying clothes together are another.
Especially when there's no Worick to play buffer.
Nicolas waits, showing no signs of leaving her side, let alone going home. Finally, his fingers move. "Dangerous."
The sign takes her aback for a minute, the way it echoes the thoughts running through her head. Then she realizes he means something else entirely.
Right. Of course. It's not a good idea for her walk the back alleys alone. Someone might recognize her from Bastard. Because of what happened, the rumor mill's working overtime and someone might try to use her for leverage. That's what he means. That's all. Nothing to get worked up over.
"All right," she relents. She can do this. What's there to be nervous about? It's just Nicolas. It's better to go dress shopping with him anyway. He won't try to grope her or barge in while she's trying on a dress, hoping to catch a peek.
Alex doesn't need to be on-guard around him. Not like that. Not about that.
She heads in the direction he indicated. She's pretty sure this is the way to the shop Worick took her to before. There are other places, of course. No one says she has to go to the same place to buy a dress. But it seems like a good idea. The store's owner was on friendly terms with Worick—but what woman in this city isn't?—and more importantly, didn't mind Nicolas's presence. It's a safe choice.
After everything that's happened, safe is very appealing right now.
Alex gets a little turned around in the alleys—just when she thinks she has the mazelike pathways down, too—but Nicolas takes the lead without missing a beat. Left, not right. Of course. How'd she make such a stupid mistake? Right leads to the main roads, and it's important to avoid those now.
And not just because she's with Nicolas.
A couple more turns and they're standing in front of the little shop they'd visited not too long ago. Alex peers in through the darkened windows. Doesn't look like there are any other customers. Too bad for the shopkeeper but better for them. Just because the owner tolerates Twilights doesn't mean her clientele will.
She steps through the door. "Hello?"
"Welcome!" A voice calls out an instant before a slim, young woman appears. "Oh!" Her hazel eyes brighten at the sight of Alex. "I remember you. Welcome back. How can I help you today?"
Alex doesn't miss the way the shopkeeper's—what's her name again? Bianca, right?—gaze strays over her shoulder, searching for something. Someone. "I'm here to buy a dress." She starts as Nicolas joins her side and plucks the bag from her arms.
The light in Bianca's face dims a bit. "Worick's not with you?" She keeps looking past them as if hoping he'll appear.
"Um." Alex glances at Nicolas. Is Worick's absence going to be a problem? "No."
"Oh." The shopkeeper shrugs and abandons them, heading back to the counter. "Well, you know where the dresses and fitting rooms are. Have fun." She waves vaguely at the racks lining the back wall before picking up a newspaper.
"Er, thanks." Quite a change from the last time they were here. The young woman had been beyond helpful then, constantly bringing dresses to try on or exchanging them for a different size when they didn't fit quite right.
Then again, she'd always brought them to Worick for approval first, not Alex.
Alex blows out a breath. Right. Well, no reason to let it bother her. It's not like she hasn't seen how Worick gets all the attention. Besides, a cold shoulder is better than some of what she's endured in the past.
Alex looks through the dresses. A couple catch her eye but—no. They're black. She already has several black dresses, and she's pretty sure that's not what Galahad means by flashy. Oh, here's a silver one—No. The fabric feels weird beneath her fingertips, which means it'll feel weirder against her skin. There's no point wearing something that'll make her uncomfortable. She's already going to be performing in front of an audience. It won't do for her to be ill-at-ease.
Maybe this is going to take her longer than she originally thought. She peeks at Nicolas, who stands not too far away. He doesn't seem to be getting impatient, though. Seems perfectly content to look out the storefront windows, in fact.
Good. That's good.
Alex relaxes. Although she'd planned to go dress shopping alone, she's glad for his company. His silence comforts her, strangely enough. It's a nice change of pace from Worick's constant need to fill the air with words.
She pulls a dress from the rack and holds it against her body. This one looks different from the other ones in her wardrobe. It's black and white but the pattern is bold—
Nicolas makes a noise.
Alex glances over to see him crinkling his brow at her, the corners of his eyes tight. Why is he making that face? She blinks at him, then at the dress. "No?"
He shakes his head and gestures for her to put the dress back.
It can't be that bad. Alex holds the dress away from her. The pattern looks like it could be fun—
No, wait. At this angle, it borders on garish. She turns the dress around and frowns. A seam slices through a geometric block, breaking the pattern awkwardly. Whoever made the garment didn't bother to make the print continuous.
Never mind.
Sighing, Alex puts the dress back.
There has to be something that'll work. The wall is lined with dresses and none of them are suitable? Impossible.
She pauses and pulls out another one. It's not exactly bright—a subtle print of small red roses on black brocade—but the cut is dramatic enough: figure hugging from bust to knee. Alex checks the back. No slit to make walking easier, but that'll only make it more eye-catching.
It's a possibility. She looks at Nicolas, but he's not facing at her anymore. Oh. Well, what does his opinion matter? It's not like he's going to wear the dress.
Draping the dress over her arm, Alex continues her search. Several minutes later, she's added a teal number and deep violet floor-length gown to her pool of possibilities. The final dress she's considering is short and flirty, with a hemline that would dance around her upper thighs. It's definitely flashy and would catch the eye when she moved.
But—
A big hand appears in her field of vision. Alex stares as Nicolas slips his hand inside the dress and splays his fingers. The outline clearly shows through the semi-sheer fabric.
If she wears this under the stage spotlights—Ugh. Not what she has in mind at all. She's a singer now. She needs to think about her stage persona and what kind of aura she wants to exude.
Alex returns the dress and looks down at her three selections. They'll have to do. She offers Nicolas a smile. "Let's hope one of these works."
Yawning, he shrugs and points toward the fitting rooms.
Better to be quick and efficient about this. Alex glances at the shopkeeper, but Bianca continues to ignore them, willfully reading today's newspaper. Stifling a burst of exasperation, she heads to the back of the store.
Alex slips into the last fitting room on the right. As she pulls the curtain closed, she spies Nicolas assuming a spot nearby, leaning against the wall. He tips his head back and closes his eyes. A deceptive illusion of relaxation and ease.
She knows better.
Alex strips off her shorts and simple top. She hangs them on a hook before turning to the dresses. Right. Might as well start with the violet one.
The instant she slips it over her head, she knows she's made a mistake. The color's pretty—a vibrant plum—and the slinky fabric flows over her curves like water, but it's long. Too long. Alex sighs. The gown's made for someone easily half a foot taller.
Alex rises onto her toes. No, it's not enough. Even with heels, the dress will pool on the floor around her feet.
She bends down and picks up the hem. Maybe she can shorten it. Hemming a dress shouldn't be too difficult. But as she folds the fabric, she realizes that's not an option either. The cloth's too slippery. It'll slide.
Forget it. She pulls off the gown and returns it to its hanger. If she can't shorten the hem, back it goes. She won't pay for an alteration.
The red and black show-stopper's up next.
Alex eyes the strapless neckline and low-cut back. She's wearing the wrong bra for it, but she has something at home that'll work. So good, so far.
She wriggles into the dress. It's as figure-hugging as she predicted. More so, even. Walking might be a little dicey, but not impossible. Craning her neck to see if it bunches around the back of her hips, she begins to tug up the zipper. It's hidden along the left side to preserve the silhouette—
It stops. Alex winces and takes in a deep inhale before releasing it all in a gust. The zipper inches up a bit before stopping again. Her ribs protest the constriction. That can't be right. This is her size. Trying again, she's able to close the zipper a little more except now the neckline cuts into her breasts.
Sighing, she reaches back to unhook her bra and tugs it free. That helps. In fact, she can move the zipper more easily now. Almost all the way shut. Except—
Except.
The sweetheart neckline isn't made for her bust and barely contains her breasts. They practically spill out of the cups.
This one's a no-go too.
Alex can't help the disappointment that shoots through her. Although not what she had in mind, she thought this dress would be the one. Oh well. She tugs the zipper down.
It doesn't budge.
Frowning, she presses against her side to stabilize it and tries again. The zipper gives just enough to lull her into thinking everything's fine before stubbornly coming to a stop. And every attempt to unzip the dress after that yields similar results. No matter how she contorts her body or tugs the dress away from her body, it simply. Refuses. To. Move.
Now what is she supposed to do?
She must have hit the curtain during her contortions because a hand slides through the shielding cloth and waves to catch her attention. Nicolas. Alex tugs the dress up to cover her breasts—and even then she had to use her forearm to make herself look almost decent—before pulling the curtain open.
Nicolas raises his hands in question.
Cheeks hot, Alex gestures to the broken zipper. "I can't get it off."
The flat look he gives her makes her squirm. But when he steps into the fitting room and lets the curtain drop close behind him, she backs up skittishly. The enclosed space is suddenly much too small.
Nicolas freezes the instant she recoils. After a moment, he rubs the back of his neck and points to her side.
What? Oh.
Biting her lip, Alex inches toward him. She lifts her left arm and presents the stubborn zipper, keenly aware that she's showing a lot of skin. The hyperawareness catches her off-guard. The shorts and top she wore here covered less, so why does she feel like this? "Be careful," she signs with her left hand. "Don't break it."
Nicolas nods, although it's clear he doesn't think much of her warning.
Alex braces herself for his touch but when his hands make contact, they're…gentle. His fingers feel along the zipper's teeth, blunt nails scraping her skin lightly. She shivers, belly contracting as she releases a sharp breath.
He pauses and glances at her. She doesn't need to look to know. She can feel his gaze pressing against the side of her face.
Alex focuses on the wall. She wants to watch him work on the zipper but she can't. She can't. She's been so careful not to think about that when it comes to him and now, because of one stupid broken zipper, she has no choice but to. So unfair.
A minute passes and Nicolas continues what he was doing. His fingers slip inside the zipper and—
Alex looks then. She feels the pull and soft tugs. Oh. Oh. The stiff fabric had caught in the zipper. That's why it's stuck!
Bit by bit, Nicolas works the caught fabric loose and seconds, minutes, years later, the zipper slides down the rest of the way with little resistance. With so little resistance that neither of them are prepared for it.
The dress sags open, exposing her ribs, waist, and hip. Even the side of her breast. The air feels cold on her bare skin, or maybe she's just overheated.
Nicolas's fingers brush the lace of her panties for one brief second before he jerks away as if burned. The sharp movement snaps her to attention and she steps away quickly. "Thanks," she says, glad that he couldn't hear how out of breath she is.
But then he can see that, can he? The rise and fall of the breasts she shields with her arm?
Looking anywhere, everywhere, in the fitting room except for his face, she repeats, "Thanks."
He backs away. There's just a trace of stiffness in his movements, the only sign she has that he feels as awkward as she does. Then, abruptly, he snatches the teal dress off the hook and foists it in her direction.
Alex grabs it before he can mash it in her face. "Okay," she says, her voice high. "Thanks. I was going to try that one on next."
Nicolas nods and vanishes through the curtain.
What just happened?
A few minutes later, she's wearing the teal dress. It's fine. There's nothing wrong with it. The color's bright. It fits. The cut shows off her body. It'll do.
Alex sighs in disgust. No amount of self-convincing is going to make her excited about this dress. She strips off the dress and puts it back on the hanger. But it's not like she has any other options—
Nicolas enters the fitting room again. No. Not enters. That implies that he walked in by his own choice.
He stumbles in, looking over his shoulder, irritation plastered all over his face.
Alex moves to cover herself except he's moving too fast. He crashes into her, sending them both colliding into the wall. The back of her head bounces at the impact. "Ow!"
"Sorry!" Over Nicolas's shoulder, she sees Bianca wave her hands apologetically. "Stay in here and be quiet for a bit," she hisses. "Some people are in the store and trust me. You don't want them to see him." The shopkeeper pulls the curtain firmly into place before Alex can say a word. The sound of the other woman's retreating footsteps tells her any attempt would be wasted.
Arms trapped between their bodies, Alex isn't sure what she's supposed to do with her hands. At the moment, they hover awkwardly near his shoulders. His arms bracket her, hands pressed against the wall behind her. He shifts his weight so he's not pressed so tight against her and the movement makes her aware of his leg pressed between her thighs. How little space there is between her bare breasts and his shirt.
She looks up and meets his eyes. Dangerous, her mind whispers. Dangerous.
Alex waits for the panic to rise up. The claustrophobia. The desire to get free. Maybe even a slap or impulse to strike.
Nothing. She feels nothing of the sort.
So, so dangerous.
Slowly, carefully, she places her hands on his shoulders. She feels the muscles bunch under her palms and then—
Then, they relax. Deliberately relax and he doesn't break her stare at all.
The shopkeeper returns. "Okay, I got rid of them. They're gone!" Bianca pauses, one arm lifting the curtain aside. She blinks at them. "Have you been like that this entire time?"
Alex pulls her hands off his shoulders and covers her breasts. How long have they been standing like that? It seemed only like seconds.
(Or an eternity.)
Nicolas steps away, his expression blank. It must seem intimidating to Bianca though because she averts her gaze and mumbles, "Well, you're safe now." She leaves.
After a moment, Nicolas waves his hand to get her attention. He signs, "You find one you like?"
Alex shrugs. "That one's okay." She points at the teal dress.
Her lack of enthusiasm must be apparent because he frowns. She starts to explain but he vanishes through the curtain before she can get a word out. Okay.
She picks up her bra.
Nicolas's arm appears through the curtain. She can't help but stare. He's holding a dress. A red one.
Unsure, she takes it from his hand and peeks through the curtain. "Do you want me to try this on?"
He looks away and signs, "If you want."
Alex opens her mouth. Closes it. Well, what could it hurt? "All right."
He glances at her sharply. Then, he nods.
Inside the fitting room, Alex studies the dress. It's too small. She can tell by looking. Not a surprise. It's not like Nicolas would know her size. And based on the comments Worick makes, she doubts he cares much about clothes.
She could just pretend she tried it on. How would Nicolas know? But that doesn't seem fair. He picked a dress for her, after all.
With a shrug, Alex slips the dress off the hanger and tries it on.
And discovers that she was very, very wrong.
The dress fits. It fits perfectly. It doesn't cling to her body, not in the restrictive way the red and black one did. It smooths over her curves like a comforting hug. Low neckline like she prefers. Short hemline to show off her legs.
Something bright and flashy. Something that catches the eye and won't let go.
Alex whips the curtain open to find Nicolas standing in his assumed spot, leaning against the wall. He looks up at her. At the dress. At her face.
Then he lifts his arm. In his hand is a red silk flower. At her confused expression, he points behind his ear.
"Oh," she says as she takes it from him. "For my hair?"
He nods.
Alex ducks her head, feeling inexplicably shy. "Thank you."
He shrugs and folds his arms, closing his eyes.
Something bubbles up in her chest and it bursts forth in a smile. "Thank you," she whispers again, even though his eyes aren't open. It doesn't matter. He knows. She knows he does.
Later, as they leave Bianca's shop, Alex snags a hold of his sleeve. When he looks back at her, she carefully enunciates the words. "Will you come and watch me sing?" He can't hear her sing, of course, but it's still something, his watching her perform in the dress he chose.
Nicolas pauses, then moves his hand. Maybe.
It's not a no.
#
The dress is a hit.
Admittedly, Alex took special care with her appearance. Not just the dress but also her make-up: the kohl lining her eyes, the red staining her lips. Even the way she swept up her hair, carefully tucking the silk flower into the loose coil. Galahad smiled when he saw her. Loretta exclaimed over her. Even a hush falls over the audience when she takes the stage.
Alex looks out into the crowd and after a breathless moment of scanning the expectant faces, smiles sadly to herself. Nicolas isn't here. He didn't come.
It's all right. Alex closes her eyes as Galahad begins playing the opening bars and the song's first notes flow off her tongue. Next time, she thinks.
Next time.
After Notes: Except next time is Chapter 30 and we all know what happens after that.