Had she sentenced Tori to the same kind of pathetic existence? Had her cowardice ruined yet another life? How would she ever forgive herself for—?
“Ohh, look at that!” Ashlyn’s ear-splitting screech saved Em from drowning in blame while, simultaneously, deafening her. She jumped up and down a little while pointing to a dress hanging on a mannequin. “That would look perfect on you!”
It was a really pretty—Wait. “Me?”
“Yeah. With your body and that cut, you’ll be beating them off with a stick.”
Besides the fact that having to beat anyone off with a stick was about as far from one of Em’s goals as it could possibly be . . . “I thought we were shopping for you?”
“Well, considering we’ve been sharing clothes. We’re shopping for both of us. I’m getting two new dresses today and you are wearing one of them tomorrow night.”
“Ash, I—”
“Come on, Em.” Ash put on her best pout coupled with those puppy dog eyes she knew how to work so well. It was completely unfair. “I’ve never seen you in a dress.”
That’s because Em didn’t wear dresses. Ever. “There’s a reason for that, Ash.”
The excitement drained from Ash’s face, leaving behind a tired sadness. “You can’t keep hiding forever, Em. You’re beautiful. No matter what you wear, people will notice. Don’t let him take that away from you.”
Em took a steadying breath. Ash was right. This was exactly the kind of thing she had to work on if she was ever going to overcome what her uncle had done to her. Each time she gave into the fear, the shame, she was giving him another victory over her. She was sick and tired of letting him win.
“Okay.” She swallowed hard. “Let’s do it.”
“That’s my girl. It’s your body, Em. Own it. Flaunt it.” Ashlyn disappeared into the store with a wink and a giggle that made Em feel slightly less nauseous as she followed her inside.
Ashlyn had great taste. The shimmering green dress looked amazing with her dark hair as Em twirled around the dressing room. It was what lay underneath that was the problem. The spaghetti straps and low plunging neck line showed an awful lot of skin. An awful lot of her.
“So what do you think?” Ash’s voice carried easily through the thin dressing curtain.
“It’s beautiful. I just . . .” The thought of taking a single step outside that dressing room, having stranger’s eyes on her like that, made her feel alarmingly exposed. Vulnerable. “I can’t, Ash.”
“Why not?”
“It’s . . . it’s too,” Em dropped her voice to a whisper, embarrassed to have anyone else overhear, “revealing.”
Ash was quiet and Em was afraid she’d hurt her friend feelings.
“Ash?”
No answer.
“Ash, I didn’t—”
“Try this.” A flurry of material came flying over the top of the curtain scaring the bejesus out of Em.
Startled, she had to scoop the article off the floor and shake it out. A mini cream colored sweater that fell to just above her waist. With the sweater buttoned up, she was completely covered while the dress still clung in all the right places, accentuating her curves nicely. Em smiled at her reflection. It was a compromise she could live with.
Shoes came next. Apparently, her sneakers wouldn’t cut it. Em eyed the peep toed heels dangling from Ashlyn’s fingers with no small amount of doubt. Not only was she likely to break her neck in those things, but they were going to a concert . . . where they’d have to stand most of the night. It suddenly felt more like Ash was trying to torture her than dress her.
“I like them and technically we’re buying them for me. Go try them on.”
Em couldn’t really argue with that. Or the fact that they looked amazing. The gold coloring matched the accents in the dress perfectly. It took Ash all of about ten seconds to declare it a done deal and seal Em’s painful fate.
She did just as an amazing job picking out her own outfit and Em enjoyed sitting back and watching her friend strut her stuff around the dressing room like some kind of fashion model. Ash must have tried on fifty dresses before finally settling on a midnight blue beauty that made her hair look almost platinum and her skin glow.
More than ready to be done for the day, Em was horrified when Ashlyn dragged her into a nail salon and insisted they both needed manicures. After putting up a pathetically lame fight, she gave in with a sigh, resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t recognize herself by the time Ash was satisfied.
***
She wasn’t wrong. The following night, wearing that amazing dress, heels, matching jewelry Ash had picked out, and of course, the sweater, with her nails freshly painted, Em didn’t recognize the girl staring back at her in the mirror. Ashlyn had spent hours making sure her makeup—something Em never wore—was perfect, and finagling her hair into some kind of fancy, yet casual up-do. The whole effect was . . . transforming. The girl in the mirror looked beautiful and confident.