Chapter 5 What She Bought for Him #3
The fabric gathered at the waist and fell more freely below it. The neckline became deliberate. The shoulders looked softer because the rest of the garment finally understood where it belonged.
Audrey tied the sash at his left side.
Her hands remained there for half a second after the knot was complete.
Then she removed them.
Nolan looked at the mirror.
The person reflected there was unfinished.
His face remained bare. His hair was still Nolan’s hair. The low heels were familiar, the stockings nearly invisible beneath the wine skirt.
But the dress fit.
Not perfectly.
The left shoulder might need a small adjustment. The waist sat fractionally high.
None of that mattered first.
The color worked.
Audrey had been right.
It warmed his skin and made the darkness of his hair look intentional. The long sleeves narrowed his wrists. The wrap line softened his chest without pretending the body beneath it was different.
The dress did not erase him.
Nolan hated how much that meant.
Audrey stood beside him.
She was watching the mirror too.
He could see her trying not to reveal too much.
The caution became unbearable.
“Stop,” Nolan said.
Audrey stepped back immediately.
Her hands lifted away from him.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.” He turned toward her. “Not that.”
She waited.
“Stop looking as though you are afraid of the wrong expression.”
Audrey’s lips parted.
“I don’t know what expression you want.”
“An honest one.”
“That may be more difficult.”
“Why?”
Her eyes moved over the dress again.
This time, she let him see the movement.
Because he had asked.
Audrey took in the neckline, the waist, the fall of the skirt, the exposed line of stocking above the shoes.
Then his face.
“You were right,” Nolan said.
“About what?”
“It isn’t finished.”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
Audrey studied him with professional focus.
“The shoulder needs a minor adjustment.”
“Which one?”
“Left.”
He checked the mirror.
She was right.
“The sash should sit slightly lower,” she continued. “The shoes work, but the stockings need smoothing near your right ankle.”
Nolan looked down.
A small wrinkle showed above the shoe.
“And my face?”
“Your face is not wrong.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“No.”
Audrey drew a breath.
“The dress asks for more definition than you are wearing.”
“I’m not wearing any.”
“I know.”
“You could have said makeup.”
“You asked what was wrong.”
“And?”
“Your posture.”
His attention sharpened.
“What about it?”
“You are standing as though you expect the dress to accuse you.”
Nolan stared at her.
Audrey’s expression softened.
“The dress fits better than you believe it does,” she said. “But you are holding your shoulders as though you plan to apologize for taking up its shape.”
He turned toward the mirror again.
He saw the tension immediately.
His shoulders were raised. His hand hovered near the sash, prepared to hold the dress closed despite the secure fastening. His knees had drawn slightly together in an imitation of femininity that felt less natural than the way he usually stood at home.
He lowered his hand.
Let his shoulders settle.
The change was small.
The reflection became less defensive.
Audrey’s breathing shifted.
Nolan looked at her through the mirror.
“Does the reality disappoint you?”
The question escaped before he decided whether he wanted the answer.
Audrey turned fully toward him.
“No.”
“That was too fast.”
“It was immediate.”
“Those are different things.”
“Not this time.”
Nolan watched her.
Audrey stepped closer, then stopped herself before entering his space.
“The dress is not perfect,” she said. “The shoulder should be altered. I would move the waist seam half an inch if the construction allowed it. Your makeup will change the balance. Your hair may too.”
“You imagined hair.”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must have pictured something.”
“I pictured several things.”
Nolan almost asked.
He stopped.
Audrey continued.
“But the dress itself does not disappoint me.”
“What does it do?”
Her eyes lowered to the wine-colored fabric at his waist.
“It makes me want to touch you.”
The honesty entered him like a current.
Audrey held his gaze.
“I am not asking to.”
Nolan’s throat tightened.
The bathroom seemed very quiet.
The rules stood between them, invisible and exact.
Audrey had asked before every adjustment.
She had stopped when he said stop, even though he meant something else.
She had given him an honest answer without turning desire into entitlement.
Nolan looked at the black case on the counter.
The makeup waited inside.
He looked at the mirror.
He had not expected to reach it tonight.
Not really.
Bringing the case had allowed the possibility.
Opening the bathroom door had created another.
Now the reflection stood before him, complete enough to frighten him and unfinished enough to offer escape.
Audrey followed his gaze.
“Do you want the mirror covered?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
Nolan considered.
“No.”
“Do you want to change back?”
The answer came more quickly.
“No.”
Audrey nodded.
Nolan felt irritation stir.
“Do not look pleased.”
“I am trying not to.”
“That is worse.”
A smile touched her mouth.
He saw it in the mirror.
This time, he did not ask her to hide it.
Audrey looked toward the makeup case.
“Do you want help?”
Nolan reached for the wrapped lipstick and held it in his palm.
The tissue made a soft sound beneath his fingers.
He had done his own face many times.
Not expertly.
Privately.
He could apply everything alone and emerge when the image was safer.
That was what he would have done at home.
But he was not at home.
The distinction had stopped feeling entirely dangerous.
“I don’t want to look alone,” he said.
Audrey’s expression changed.
Not desire this time.
Something quieter.
She approached the mirror but did not stand behind him.
“Then how do you want to look?”
Nolan studied their reflections.
The wine dress.
Audrey’s gray sweater.
His unfinished face.
Her careful distance.
He lifted his eyes to hers in the glass.
“With you beside me.”