18 dress trauma
"This is unnecessary."
"It's essential."
"This is excessive."
"It's the bare minimum."
"This is-"
Jess grabs my arm and physically pulls me through the entrance before I can finish the sentence, the bell above the door chiming like it's announcing my downfall.
"You've used three synonyms already," she says. "Get new material."
"I'm running out because this situation is evolving too fast."
Riley walks in behind us, holding the door open for a second longer before letting it swing shut. "You've been complaining for twelve minutes."
"I've been right for twelve minutes."
"You've been dramatic for twelve minutes," Jess corrects.
"I've been realistic."
Jess doesn't even bother arguing that. She's already scanning the store like she's been preparing for this moment her entire life.
Which-
she probably has.
"This is going to be fun," she says.
"This is not going to be fun."
"This is going to be so fun."
"This is going to be traumatic," I reply.
Riley steps closer to me, her tone calmer but just as certain. "It's just dresses."
"It's not just dresses," I say. "It's expectation. It's public attention. It's-fabric with consequences."
Jess turns around so fast she almost runs into a rack. "Fabric with consequences is the best thing you've said all day."
"I'm serious."
"So am I," she says. "You need a dress."
"I have clothes."
"You need a dress."
"I can wear something I already own."
"You absolutely cannot," she says immediately.
"I absolutely can."
"You're going to homecoming with a hockey captain who is currently trending," Jess says, like she's presenting evidence in a case. "You cannot show up in something that says 'I didn't try.'"
"I didn't try."
"That's not the point."
"It is entirely the point."
Riley steps in before Jess can escalate further. "You don't have to try hard. You just have to not look like you're resisting."
"I am resisting."
"Less visibly," she says.
"That's manipulative."
"That's strategic."
"You sound like Dana," I mutter.
"I'm starting to take that as a compliment," Riley replies.
Jess grabs a dress off a rack and holds it up against me without warning. "This."
"No."
"You didn't even look at it."
"I don't need to."
"You do."
"I don't."
"It's good," Riley says, glancing at it.
"It's not good," I say.
"You haven't seen it."
"I don't need to see it to know it's not good."
Jess shoves it into my arms anyway. "Try it on."
"No."
"Try it on."
"I'm not trying it on."
"You're trying it on."
"This is coercion."
"This is friendship."
"That's not what friendship is."
"That's exactly what this friendship is," she says.
Riley gestures toward the fitting rooms. "Just try one."
"One," I repeat.
"One."
"Then I'm done."
"You're not going to be done," Jess says.
"I'm going to be done."
"You're not."
"I am."
"You're not."
I glare at her.
She smiles.
I hate this.
I take the dress and walk toward the fitting rooms like I'm being led to something irreversible.
"This is a mistake," I call over my shoulder.
"This is progress," Jess calls back.
Riley just shakes her head slightly, amused.
I step into the fitting room, closing the curtain behind me like that somehow separates me from everything happening outside.
It doesn't.
I stare at the dress for a second, then at myself, then back at the dress.
"This is unnecessary," I mutter again, quieter this time.
I change anyway. Because apparently I've reached a point in my life where I say no and then do it anyway.
That's new.
When I step out-
Jess freezes.
Actually freezes.
Like someone hit pause.
Riley doesn't freeze, but she straightens slightly, her expression shifting in a way that's harder to read but just as noticeable.
"What?" I say immediately.
Jess doesn't answer right away.
Which is worse.
"What?" I repeat.
"That's not the one," she says.
Relief hits instantly. "Great. I'm done."
"That's not the one," she repeats, already moving toward another rack. "But that means we're close."
"I don't want to be close."
"You're very close."
"I don't like close."
"You're going to like close."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Riley steps closer, adjusting the strap slightly without asking. "The shape works."
"It does not work," I say.
"It does," she replies.
"This is subjective."
"This is correct," she says calmly.
Jess returns with three more dresses like she just found the solution to a problem I don't want solved. "Try these."
"No."
"Try these."
"No."
"Try-"
"I'm trying one more," I cut in.
Jess smiles. "You're trying all three."
"I'm trying one."
"You're trying all three."
"I'm trying two."
"Three."
"Fine."
"That was easy."
"That was manipulation."
I take the dresses and disappear back into the fitting room before she can say anything else.
The second one is worse. The third-
I hesitate, just for a second. Because when I look at it-
it's not what I expected.
It's still me. Not overly dramatic, not something I wouldn't wear. But-
different.
I put it on before I can overthink it. And when I step out-
Jess doesn't freeze this time. She just... softens.
Riley smiles. Not big, not dramatic. Just... quietly certain.
"Oh," Jess says.
I cross my arms immediately. "Don't."
"I'm not saying anything."
"You're about to say something."
"I'm thinking something."
"That's worse."
Riley looks at me, head tilted slightly. "That's it."
"It's not it."
"It is."
"It's not."
"It is," Jess says. "You look-"
"Don't say it."
"I'm not saying it."
"You're going to say it."
"I'm not."
"You're thinking it."
"I am."
There's a pause. And for a second-
I look at myself again.
Really look.
Not critically, not automatically trying to find something wrong. Just... look. And something about it-
feels different.
I drop my arms slightly.
Jess notices immediately.
Riley definitely notices.
"This doesn't mean anything," I say.
"It doesn't have to," Riley replies.
Jess grins. "But it does."
"It doesn't."
"It does."
I shake my head, turning slightly like that resets everything. "It's just a dress."
"It's not just a dress," Jess says.
"It's fabric with consequences."
She laughs. "Exactly."
I exhale slowly, looking at myself one more time before stepping back toward the fitting room.
"I still hate this," I say.
Jess smiles.
"Yeah," she says. "But you're doing it anyway."