“Loosen up, will ya? We’re shopping, not having an ingrown toenail removed,” Jess teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Ingrown toenail? The absurdity of the thought broke through Shannon’s haze.
“Why are we talking about ingrown toenails, Jess?”
Jess smirked. “Just something my Nana said. She swears it was worse than childbirth. The look on your face... I thought you were about to kill someone.”
Shannon snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze flickering away.
“Maybe I was.”
Jess shook her head and wandered along the rails, tossing a glance over her shoulder.
“Get ready to wow yourself. I’m gonna turn you into a knockout. Pretty Woman style.”
Shannon cocked an eyebrow, her lips twisting in a half-smile. “We’ve gone from sugar daddy to prostitution. What was I thinking asking you for help?”
Jess held up a bright green dress. “Because, darling, Ihave style. You, on the other hand, dress like a boy. Not just any boy—a drab, boring, penniless boy.”
Shannon sighed.
“Seriously, keep those insults coming. Kick me while I’m down.” She rolled her eyes. “Just find me something that’ll hide myboy body, okay?”
Jess shot her a mock glare. “I didn’t say you had a boy body, grumpy. Your curves are killer, and I’ll prove it once you get into the right dress.”
She twirled a hanger in her fingers and dangled it in front of Shannon. “This one?”
It was short, sexy, black, and sparkly, everything she loved in a dress... Except the thought of her bruises killed the idea.
“Nope. Something longer.”
Shannon looked over at the changing rooms, dreading the moment she’d have to strip in front of the mirror and pray Jess didn’t barge in.
“Seriously, where do you go in that head of yours, Shannon?” Jess’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Shannon hadn’t even noticed her friend land beside her, weighed down by armfuls of fabric in every colour imaginable.
“It’s like your brain’s running on a single-digit battery. Come on, you can try these.”
Shannon trailed behind, nodding while Jess rambled on about cuts, shapes, and the perfect material for the occasion.
“Ugh!” Shannon groaned as Jess shoved her into a changing room.
The curtain whipped shut, and the harsh spotlight blazed overhead, revealing her pale complexion and the purplish bags under her tired eyes in the mirror.
She wasn’t sure how she had the energy to even stand.
Shannon undressed, her jeans falling to the floor, followed by the painstaking task of undoing the buttons on her cardigan. A hollow stranger gazed back at her.
Her hip bones jutted out sharper than they used to, her ribs more pronounced. The wave of nausea that had been with her for weeks made eating unbearable.
“I guess this is what heartbreak looks like,” she whispered to herself, taken aback by how much weight she’d lost.
The bruises on her skin resembled dying constellations, an odd pattern of pain that hadn’t left her.
As she stood there, the curtain yanked across. Jess’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open.
“Holy fuck, Shannon. Are those...men’s boxer shorts? I was only half-joking when I said you dress like a boy.”
