Chapter 12: Final Fitting

The final fitting was at two o'clock, at the same shop on South Congress.

Priya's mother sat on a velvet bench outside the dressing room with her phone, making calls about the valet.

Priya stood on the little round platform inside the curtained room in the full ivory gown, with the buttons done up to her neck.

I stood behind her with a lint roller, as the coordinator.

"Don't look at me like that," she whispered.

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to eat me in front of everyone."

"There's nobody in here but us."

"There's my mother ten feet away. And two seamstresses who said they'd be back in five minutes."

I put the lint roller down.

I knelt on the carpet behind her and lifted the hem of the skirt.

The silk was heavy, layer on layer, with a stiff slip underneath.

"Jo," she hissed. "Don't you dare."

"Quiet."

"You'll ruin the dress."

"I'm not touching the dress." I ducked under the skirt. "I'm touching you."

It was dark and warm in there.

The air smelled like starch and her skin.

Her calves trembled in front of my face, bare above her white heels, and I slid my hands up the backs of her legs.

She was not wearing anything underneath.

I stopped.

"You came to the final fitting with no underwear."

"I knew you'd be here," Priya said, high and breathless, from somewhere above the silk.

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