“What do you mean? I’d think you’d be having the time of your life, making me model these awful clothes. Make Winnie look ridiculous. Isn’t that on your bucket list? Your every wish come true?”
He looks at me for so long that I don’t think he’s going to answer. “Nobody wants to spend the afternoon picking out clothes for some other guy to enjoy,” he says finally. “End of story.”
My brow creases. Huh? But Mat’s not interested in me. Not for real. Not beyond what we’re playacting for our parents. So why should he care what Taran enjoys—or doesn’t even notice, as the case may be?
I start to ask, but Mat sighs and gestures to the dressing room. “Go on, Winnie. You still have half the store to model. It’s going to be a long afternoon.”
…
The atmosphere shifts during our exchange. Mat no longer laughs at me. He doesn’t seem to derive any joy from my comical appearance. Instead, we are almost subdued as I try on the rest of the clothes—if there can be anything subdued about a bright-purple dress, complete with the fire-breathing snout of a dragon.
To my surprise, Mat has actually selected a couple of decent options in my pile of absurdity. One dress, in particular, is an emerald silk. It has a V-neck that is deep enough to make me feel striking but not so low that it would give my parents heart failure. The fabric skims my curves softly and swishes around my thighs to end a few inches above my knees.
After I put it on, I blink at the mirror for a few confused seconds. I look…pretty. Ethereal, even. That’s not an adjective I’ve ever applied to myself. When you have sisters like mine, you get used to being okay—even thrilled—with moderately cute. But how I look now is in a completely different league.
This dress is everything I’ve ever wanted. So much more than I’ve even dreamed.
“How are you doing in there?” Mat calls, his voice husky. There’s nothing playful about his tone now. I’ve been quiet for so long that he’s probably just making sure I haven’t passed out.
I bite my lip. I don’t want to show him. Mama gave him the power to approve my purchases, and the second he sees me coveting this dress, he’ll veto it so quickly that I’ll get whiplash. I’ll end up wearing the yellow sweater with the floppy bows to the Tongdees’ party, and Taran will never take me seriously again.
Which might be the only reason that Papa agreed to this plan in the first place. Mama has paired me up with a guy who would never be interested in me…but who just happens to scare off every other prospect. Even I have to admit, it’s a brilliant way to guarantee that I’ll be single and distraction-free for the rest of high school.
“Winnie?” Mat calls again.
“Coming!”
With one last look in the mirror and a resigned recognition that this dress will never be mine, I square my shoulders and walk out of the dressing room.
I stop in the middle of the hallway, where the overhead light shines straight down, and squeeze my eyes shut. I wait for his vehement denial, his snort of disbelief, that I, for even a moment, would believe he would let me buy anything so flattering.
But the seconds tick by. And he doesn’t speak. All I can hear is the whir of the overhead fan, the muffled conversation of the mother and daughter next door, and the coy giggles of the salesperson as she flirts with one of the customers.
Chib-peng, maybe Mat’s not even standing here anymore. Maybe he took off the second I closed my eyes, so that he can make an even bigger fool of me.
I wrench open my eyes. He’s here, all right. A sheen of sweat coats his upper lip, and he’s staring at my legs.
“Mat?” I ask because there’s a very real chance that he’s having a stroke.
He shakes himself. “The dress is…” He trails off, and my mind immediately fills in the blanks. Hideous? Pathetic? Desperate?
“Passable,” he finishes. His eyes have become opaque and unreadable. “It’s the only thing that makes you look halfway decent. Might as well get it.”
My temper flares. Not least because I used the same word to describe him. “Careful, Mat. You might accidentally say something nice about me.”
My hands are shaking; my chest is tight. That’s when I realize I’m