Stay Toxic

Chapter 8

“What am I supposed to wear for this thing? Something fancy?” Ari asks me when I get back into the room at five.

Half the content of her wardrobe is on her bed, and she pouts at the many colorful, flirty tops and skirts, visibly frustrated.

“I asked Bass, he told me he has no clue, but you’d likely know. Men,” she scoffs. “All they have time do is to put a suit on for all situations. So unfair.”

I nod in agreement. “Right? And well, it depends on the theater. I’ve gone to the ballet in jeans a time or two, for morning shows at casual places, but from what I know of Thorns Falls, the dress code is about the same as the opera.”

“So, super-fancy, huh?” She sighs. “I’m not sure I’ll have the right stuff in the dorm. Might have to pop by the house.”

“I could have something you can wear,” I offer.

It’s getting a little late, if we want to eat first. I don’t want to add a trip if we can avoid it.

“No offense, but nothing that fits those boobs will look good on my flat chest.” She eyes my chest pointedly.

I didn’t realize she noticed the boobs; I don’t tend to flaunt them. I wear blouses buttoned up to the throat most of the time. I cross my arms, noticing in the full-length mirror across the room that only serves to make them look bigger.Never mind that.

“I was thinking I could lend you a full skirt,” I say, walking to my own wardrobe. Her skirts are lovely, but all tend to be on the short side, and wouldn’t be event appropriate. “You can pair it with a nice top.”

Ari and I have very different body types, boobs aside. She’s short, I’m tall, she’s athletic, I’ve always been on the curvier side, but for all that, a skirt with an elastic waistband should work on her. Maybe it’d reach her shins rather than her knees, but it’s a good look.

I pull one of the new pieces I haven’t had the chance to wear yet.

“Holy fuck, ma’am, is that a Chanel?”

“Not sure?” One glance at the label, and I nod. “Apparently so. My mother shops for me,” I add, as some sort of an explanation, because honestly, it’s ridiculous to have a Chanel in your college wardrobe at twenty-two years old. I’d much rather own Levi’s and Forever Twenty-One. I think. I’ve never actually been to Forever Twenty-One, but it sounds like the sort of brand I should wear.

But then I realize it’s not much of an explanation. What girl my age lets their parents pick their clothes?

“Not fond of shopping, huh?” Ari asks, not making it weird.

I fucking love it, I don’t say, because then I’d have to explain why I don’t do it myself. I’d have to tell her my mother is combing through all my bank transactions, and would call to demand to see my purchases. That if there’s so much as fifty bucks being withdrawn in cash, or spent somewhere that’s not pre-approved or justified, I’d likely have my card cancelled for days, until I’ve groveled to her satisfaction.

“Wait, those pumps are adorable,” Ari says when she spots salmon shoes that would look pretty great with the green skirt I handed her. “Can I borrow them, too? What size are you?”

“Of course. And I’m an eight.”

“That sucks,” she pouts. Ari, it turns out, is a five, which is the most adorable thing ever.I stare at her tiny feet in wonder. “Why do you have to be a giant? No Jimmy Choos for me.”

“But you’re so small and cute!” I gush.

No wonder she’s so popular. It’s impossible to meet her without loving the shit out of her.

She takes a shower first, as I haven’t picked my own outfit, and by the time I’m ready, she’s transformed from seriously freaking adorable to ultimate bombshell. I gasp. I’m pretty sure every single person in the vicinity would stop, turn and gasp, watching her. What’s more, she doesn’t look overly made-up; it’s all subtle, natural, and yet there’s no denying that there’s a huge difference.

“How do you even do that? You’re great at makeup.”

She grins. “My mom’s a hairdresser; she took a MUA course a few years back and I learned all the tricks. I can do you if you’d like?”

If someone had told me on Sunday that I’d end up seated behind her desk while she applied makeup with the ease of a professional, I would have scoffed. I don’t typically warm up to people this fast, but she’s so friendly there’s no resisting her.

Ari explains everything she’s doing to highlight my features, lecturing me on the use of sponges, and before I know it, I’m also way prettier than I can ever remember being. I’ve had professional makeup done before, for the family pictures my mother demands I pose in for her campaigns. It was always designed to make me look younger, immature, innocent.I look hot today.

It’s a little sad I’m going to the ballet, really. It’s the kind of makeup I would love to have when…certain people saw me.

NotSebastian. No one like Sebastian. Sebastian is taken, you idiot. But other people my age. I know the theater will mostly have an audience of kids under ten, and grandparents over fifty.

We stop by an Italian place for pizza. If mother knew I got pizza and a burger in the same week, she’d have an aneurism. Actually, she’d drag me straight back home and lock me in the kitchen like she used to before I learned to behave. Before I had a reason to.

When we reach the theater, I give my name at the box office. Instead of the two tickets I expected, I’m shown to a box, which is baffling.

Maybe it’s a slow night? I only let Tanya get my tickets because they’re complimentary—each dancer gets two per show, and her family’s too far to come. I know the price of a box; I wouldn’t want my friend, an artist with her first paying job, to pay for a box meant to sit twelve people, even with her employee discount.

One glance around the seats shows it’s almost full, though. Strange. I’ll have to ask Tanya about it after the show.

Giselleis suitably pathetic, and before we know it, the curtains falls. Tanya played her role—one of the spirits of maidens betrayed by their lovers—to perfection, naturally, so I’ll get to tell her I told you so.

“My friend will meet me at the bar after getting changed. You can stick around if you want,” I offer, and Ari’s quick to agree.

The two bubbly girls get on like a house on fire. I should have expected it. They’re both sunny, friendly, adorable, and somehow, they’ve adopted me as their introvert.

We don’t leave the bar after the show. We’re still there when Tanya’s done getting changed, and I order us a bottle of their best champagne, because she killed it.

“I love the ballet. Seriously. I want to watch it again, and again. But like, why did Giselle just die all of a sudden?”

“Albrecht was taken, so she, like, spontaneously dies,” Tanya explains, wrinkling her nose. “In the original version, she stabbed herself with his sword.”

“Men are dicks,” I reply, sipping my third glass.

“Surely not all men.”

I freeze.

I must have imagined his voice, right? I must have.

“Ladies.” Sebastian steps into view, coming from behind the bar.

Oh, goodie. I’m gonna need another drink.