Chapter 22
Xenas’s POV
“Let’s go in this one!” Ama squealed, tugging on my arm as we made our way into Stitch & Story. We each selected three dresses to try on. Ama’s picks matched exactly what she’d described earlier, while I chose three completely different styles.
The first was an emerald green slip dress with thin straps and a plunging neckline. It hugged my waist before falling straight down with a slit that ran dangerously high up my thigh. I stepped out of the changing room and stood in front of the mirror, examining myself with a critical eye.
“Looks good,” Samuel commented casually.
I sighed internally. His voice as flat as if he were commenting on a roadside flower. I could feel him deliberately keeping his distance, even as his eyes wandered over me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
“This one would work for dancing, but it doesn’t really do anything for my figure,” I said softly, hoping to ease some of the tension between us.
Ama emerged wearing a strapless mermaid dress, her blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders. “I don’t like you in that one,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Good, because I’m not feeling it either,” I replied, relieved to have an excuse.
“That’s not working either,” I said honestly about her dress. That style needed fuller hips to pull it off, which Ama clearly didn’t have.
“Yeah, it’s not right for me,” Ama agreed.
We retreated back to our changing rooms. My second dress was all black with strategic cutouts. The straps were thicker, crossing under my chest to push my breasts up and make them more prominent. The design crossed in the back before returning to the front, with cutouts placed beneath my chest, along my sides, and across most of my back. The dress clung to every curve, the crossing in the back positioned just above the dimples of my lower back, while the cinched fabric perfectly accentuated my hips. The slit was so high I could barely wear underwear with it.
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Chapter 22
I walked out and stood before the mirror, waiting for Ama. Looking at my body tightly wrapped in black fabric, a complex feeling washed over me. I felt beautiful and sexy, like I’d transformed into someone else. The feeling excited me but also scared me a little. Martha would definitely disapprove of this dress, but in that moment, I felt a rebellious urge to break free from her constraints.
Ama emerged after a few minutes. Her dress was a black corseted ball gown with a low neckline, but with two sharp edges above each breast. The skirt was hitched up and gathered in the front, resembling more of a salsa dance party dress.
“Oh my god, even if you don’t wear that to the party, you have to buy it,” Ama stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening.
“Damn,” Samuel muttered under his breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. I felt a wave of heat run through my body, knowing he was struggling to control his reaction to
- me.
“I really love how you look in that dress!” I told Ama, trying to divert attention from the
tension I was feeling inside.
“Me too. It fits well, and I can dance in it,” Ama responded.
I stared at my reflection, imagining how I’d look all done up: my curls pinned low in a messy bun with a few strands falling loose; maybe red lips and high heels. The image was
so different from my usual self, yet it gave me a strange sense of belonging, as if I’d
finally found another part of me.
“Okay, one more to go,” Ama said excitedly.
Walking back to the changing room, I felt anticipation for the last dress. I had to admit, I
liked the black dress more than I’d expected. Ama was right–I would buy it regardless.
The final dress was the crimson red. It was corseted, pushing my breasts up and cinching
my waist. However, it was made of lace and completely transparent. There was black
lining for the chest, but from beneath my breasts to where the skirt began, you could see
my stomach. The slit was wide, with lace layered over a silk skirt.
I stepped out to find Ama already changed. She wore a silk dress that looked stunning on her. It wasn’t completely form–fitting, more like a slip dress. With thin straps and flowing
fabric, she looked flawless.
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Chapter 22
“Add some fashion tape, and that’s your dress,” I evaluated, feeling a bit awkward about making eye contact with Samuel after his earlier reaction.
“I know! I didn’t even intend to get one with straps, honestly didn’t notice they had that style,” Ama responded.
When I walked over to her, she finally noticed what I was wearing. “Hot damn!”
“I know! It’s sexy in its own way,” I replied, pleased by her reaction.
“They’re both sexy, just different types of sexy!” Ama explained. I understood what she meant, but I wasn’t sure which type I wanted to be. The elegant, subtle kind, or the bold, direct kind?
“Whatever, I’ll buy both and decide what to wear later,” I blurted out. Ama jumped up and down with excitement.
“Can we leave now?” Samuel complained impatiently.
“Why are you so grumpy?” Ama asked him, barely acknowledging his mood.
“No reason,” Samuel answered shortly, his jaw clenched tight, eyes deliberately avoiding me. My heart ached a little, knowing the source of his irritation.
“Hungry?” Ama teased.
“Actually, yes. Let’s get something to eat and then leave. I have work to do,” Samuel said, his voice revealing his eagerness to escape the current situation.
“We should head home. We can grab something to go,” I added, thinking that the sooner we separated, the less grumpy he might be.
“Alright,” Ama sighed, “a salad sounds good.”
“It does. We’ll order takeout from Panera Bread, and I’ll go pick it up,” Samuel offered.
Ama nodded and started ordering on her phone. My thoughts were consumed by the complicated relationship between Samuel and me. Are you really going to stay in this mood? I couldn’t help asking Samuel through our mind link,
What do you expect? he shot back, his voice tinged with frustration.
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Chapter 22
We shouldn’t have started this. I’m sorry, I replied, my heart sinking as I thought about the pain I was causing him. I didn’t want to admit it, but I hoped he wasn’t my mate, so I wouldn’t be trapped here.
The car soon pulled up outside Panera Bread. I cut off the mind link and, before Samuel could stop me, I opened the door and limped toward the restaurant. The hot, humid air
hit me like a wall, making my skin instantly sticky with sweat.
“Table for one?” the hostess asked.
“Actually, I’m here to pick up an order,” I replied.
“Sure, what name is it under?”
“Um, probably Ama’s name.”
“Two salads?”
“That’s the one!” I said with relief.
