Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
CLOVER
“I’m so glad you messaged me,” Jill says as she leans over the middle console of her car to give me a quick squeeze. She smells as if she’s been baking, or maybe that’s just how she smells. Like vanilla and something else, cardamom perhaps?
“Thanks for doing this,” I say sheepishly as I do up the seatbelt. “I wasn’t sure who else I could call for this kind of thing.”
“Are you kidding me? I love to shop, we’ll get the perfect outfits and make a day of it.” She smiles as she puts on some oversized sunglasses and pulls out onto the road.
Thankfully, I have the day off filming today before our Napa trip, so I have an opportunity to actually grab some things before Roman and I head north.
I took a chance by texting Jill to see if she was available to help me pick out some outfits. Next thing I knew, she’d planned a whole day for us.
Normally, clothes shopping is something I don’t enjoy.
It’s always hard to find clothing that’s as flattering as I want it to be, and then when you think you’ve found a piece that’s finally okay, you look in the changing room mirror and you’re framed by the most horrific overhead lighting known to man.
“You okay?” Jill asks. I shake my head and try to return to the present.
“Yeah, I’m good. Shopping hasn’t always been my favorite, that’s all.”
Instead of pressing for details, she remains quiet, eyes focused on the road, letting me decide if I want to share more or keep it to myself.
“Well, we’ll make sure today’s lots of fun to make up for it then,” she smiles and smooths over the subject, a huge relief for me since I don’t really feel like it’s appropriate for me to trauma dump onto her about my struggles lately with body image.
I’m not sure someone who looks like she does would even understand anyway.
“I’m not leaving the fitting room,” I shout.
“Why not?”
Because I look like Jabba the fucking hut in this monstrosity of an outfit.
I settle for a more diplomatic answer: “I just don’t think it’s for me.
” The dress, if one can call it that, is a beast of straps and cutouts, and it looks like it belongs in a bondage club or a hostage situation.
I don’t even know how I got all my limbs in the right spot in the first place.
“Come on, at least let me have a look! I thought that color would be so pretty on you.” Jill calls back.
As I begin to remove the offending piece, I realize taking it off won’t be quite as easy as putting it on.
It feels like my body temperature jumps up a handful of degrees as I delicately wrestle with the garment, trying my best not to rip a stitch or do any damage.
My heart thunders as I try to maneuver out of this thing like a bank robber avoiding lasers.
After a few more seconds of wiggling the tiniest bit here and there, I’m hopelessly stuck.
Before I can ask, Jill’s whispering through the door. “Are you good in there?”
“Um... no?”
She giggles. “Do you want a hand?”
“Yes, please.” There’s no time to save my dignity before Jill comes in.
She looks down as she enters, closing the door tightly behind her before looking up at me and slapping her hand over her mouth to contain the laugh bubbling out of her.
The dress is halfway up my torso, my arms are stuck above my head, and I can’t move the dress up or down.
The cursed garment also covers my mouth now.
“Oh my God.” Jill tries her best to maintain her composure, but she’s failing miserably.
“Don’t you dare laugh.” My voice comes out muffled from the fabric as I fight back laughter of my own.
“I’m sorry, it’s not funny,” she says through a fit of giggles. “It’s just that you remind me so much of one of those car dealership inflatable things with your arms stuck up like that.”
Now I burst out laughing.
“Help me out of here before I rip this thing,” I whine.
Jill flits over to me and begins ever so slowly wiggling the fabric up above my head.
“Easy, easy,” she whispers to herself as she works her way around the most stuck parts. After a few more seconds, I finally feel the tightest part come up past my shoulder, and I’m home free. I whip it off my head and blow a piece of wayward hair away from my mouth.
“There you go,” Jill smiles before scooping up the reject outfits from the chair in the corner of the room. “Okay, so these are all no’s?”
“Yeah.” I grimace as I look at the little mountain of clothing. Nothing’s been right so far. Too tight, too baggy, hanging off the wrong parts of my body, the list goes on. Maybe this was a bad idea, and I should’ve made some old things from my closet work.
“Can I bring you something I saw out there?” Jill gestures to the door, and I nod in agreement since there’s nothing to lose at this point.
I avoid my reflection in the mirror while waiting for her. A minute later she returns and gently knocks on the door.
“Feel free to say no, but I thought it was so pretty and would look really beautiful on you, especially with your hair color.”
Cautiously, I open the door and peek around it, where I see Jill holding up some gorgeous white and blue fabric. I reach forward and feel it, immediately surprised by how soft it is. Even if this didn’t look good, I’m sure it would feel incredible on.
I take it from her and pull it back into the change room, excited to see what it looks like in its entirety.
Holding up the hanger, I appreciate the gorgeous sundress in front of me.
A blue toile pattern decorates the fabric, and there’s gentle ruching along the waist, and gorgeous short ruffled sleeves.
I don’t think I’ve ever owned such a beautiful dress.
It strikes the perfect balance of being beautiful without being too formal.
When I slip it over my head, it slides on like it was made for me.
My hands roam over the fabric along my body, appreciating the softness and feeling pretty in it before I even turn around and look in the mirror.
I’m hesitant to turn around and give it a look, but when I finally muster up the courage, I’m shocked.
The dress fits me like a glove, and I love the shape and the pattern. Accentuating curves I didn’t even know I possessed. In this dress, I’m not cursing my body for the crime of simply existing.
And that realization alone — that lately I’ve been punishing my body for just existing — is painful. I shake my head and bury the thoughts as best I can before opening the door and stepping out to get Jill’s opinion.
She gasps and clasps her hands together. “I knew it would be stunning on you.”
“You think?” I stand in front of the bigger panel of mirrors nearby.
“Clover, if you don’t get that dress, it’s a crime against common sense.”
“Common sense, really?” I laugh.
“Absolutely,” she says solemnly. “You'll be going to vineyards and you need something cute for wine tasting and walks through the grounds.” A thrill rushes through me at the thought of the trip.
Whether that be a thrill of excitement or a thrill like when you’re watching a horror movie unfold?
Who’s to say? The prospect of being stuck in close confines with Roman for a couple of days is overwhelming.
Especially having to be in couple mode any time we’re in public.
Hopefully, this trip gets TroisToi off our backs, and people no longer question the legitimacy of this.
“Come on, if you don’t buy it, I’m buying it for you,” Jill threatens.
“Alright, alright, I’ll get it.” I smile. While there’s an entire rack of rejects, it feels really good to have found this dress. I am looking forward to wearing it in Napa.
“Good,” she grins, “You get changed and I’ll meet you up front.”
I nod and head back into the change room, eternally grateful that this dress is much easier to get off than the last one.
When I head to the front, I take a minute to spot Jill. She’s standing near the entrance to the store, and there is a small group of women surrounding her. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I pay quickly and go over to see what’s happening.
“Thank you so much, that’s so kind of you,” Jill says to one of the women.
“Seriously, you’re exactly who I pictured as Anna. Anything yet on who they’ll cast for Huntley?” The woman is practically vibrating with excitement.
“No, nothing yet, but we’re hoping to get that done soon,” Jill explains.
“I love the Firefly Ranch series so much, I can’t wait for the movie adaptation,” one woman squeals.
Right, Firefly Ranch. A wildly popular romance series that Starlight Studios bought the film rights to earlier last year. I know Jill is slated to play the lead. I wonder when they’re set to film.
“Can I please get a picture with you?” one of them asks.
“Of course,” Jill exudes such warmth with her answer that it’s practically palpable. She smiles and stands beside the women, all of them putting their arms behind one another’s backs and leaning in for a selfie.
“Thank you so much.”
“Any time, have a wonderful day,” Jill says before giving me a look that says, ‘Let’s get out of here’. I give a quick, awkward smile and dart outside with Jill.
“Do you ever get used to that?” I ask, gesturing back to where the women are in the store.
“I don’t know what it’s like to not be interrupted during an outing.” The way she says it sounds like there’s the tiniest tinge of sadness.
I should probably leave it alone, but since when do I listen to common sense? “Do you wish you weren’t interrupted?” I’m genuinely curious.
She pauses before answering as she scans the shopfronts stretching out on the street ahead of us. Pointing toward one, she leads the way. When I finally think she’s ignoring my question, she speaks up.