Bella
“Just a little shopping” with Daphne was like a marathon.
I felt extremely awkward as Daphne dragged me from store to store. I dodged people and kept my eyes glued to the floor. “But I don’t need any more clothes,” I protested as she took things off of racks and demanded that I try them on. I guess shopping is a sport for the modern affluent woman, but for me, it was a terrible form of torture. I was bored looking at the racks of clothes, and trying on all the outfits that Daphne threw at me was awful. It didn’t matter how beautiful the clothes were, I knew I didn’t need them, and I refused to buy them.
And then she led me to a popular and very pink lingerie store. I had even heard of this store, despite my very isolated upbringing. It was a whole store dedicated to bras, underwear, and other negligee. “You should buy something sexy for the boys,” Daphne said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“I...I don’t think…” I stuttered, looking at the skimpily dressed mannequins. I could not even imagine wearing such a costume in front of the brothers. Garter belts and corsets and crotch-less underwear? What??? I shook my head vehemently as Daphne suggested a deep red set with lace stockings. “No,” I said flatly.
“Awww come on, Bella, lighten up a little. Sex should be fun! No? Hmmm, well, perhaps something a little more demure? Look over here!” She took me by the elbow and dragged me back toward a display of nightgowns. She took down a deep-red baby-doll gown that was fitted over the bust and then fell to just above the knee in red and black lace. “This would look so awesome with your hair,” she whispered. “Oh yes, this is perfect!” She snagged it off the rack. “Let's go try it on!”
I groaned as she took my wrist and dragged me back. I don’t know what this was, the fifth or sixth set of changing rooms I encountered today? I dutifully pulled off my clothes one more time to pull the nighty over my head. I turned and stared at myself in the three-way mirror.
The nightgown hugged my small breasts, with a little red bow right underneath. From there it dropped loosely, the sheer lace and silky material falling to my lower thigh. It was flattering, I thought, turning to look at myself from the back. The loose fit hid my stick figure, and the deep wine-red color did kind of bring out the red tones in my dark hair. It didn’t look quite as slutty as some of the other outfits on display, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the brothers would like it.
“Come on! Out with you, I want to see!” Daphne demanded from the other side of the door.
I came out timidly, with my shoulders hunched defensively.
“Oh, Bella, it's gorgeous, and you look absolutely beautiful.” She took my shoulders and forced them back and down so that I was standing up straight.
Daphne was prancing around in her own set of negligee, something much more provocative. I didn't even understand why she needed the outfit, as she had confessed to me that she didn't have a boyfriend. "But I might one day!" She argued with a laugh. She spun me around. “We are definitely buying this one for you, no arguments!”
This time I didn’t argue, because I really did like the gown. I liked the way it looked, and I liked the way it made me feel. Not only was the silky fabric so light and soft against my skin, I felt like I was something pretty, something to be desired. Like I almost had a right to be the mate of two handsome, powerful men. I watched the saleswoman carefully fold it into a box and tuck it into a shopping bag. I tried not to think about how much the nightgown cost as I handed over Wyatt’s credit card.
Daphne started to drag me to another store, but I pleaded with her for a break. “Oh please, Daphne, I’m so tired. Can’t we sit for a bit and get something to drink?”
“Ohhh, yes, let's go visit the food court! I’m starving.” Of course, she was starving because she only ate a lumber-jack-sized breakfast that morning. I smiled slightly as she took me by the arm and started dragging me back toward the center of the mall, where there was a busy food court with several different fast food options. “Have you ever had pizza, Bella?”
I shrugged. “I’ve made a flatbread pizza for my old pack,” I mumbled. I wasn’t actually allowed to eat the food I cooked, but I had snuck the leftovers, which were mostly the hard bits of crust. I didn’t see what was so great about pizza. But as I was standing there in the crowded mall, I was overwhelmed by all the people and the choices, and the smells. I had no idea what to choose for myself, so I let Daphne order us slices of pizza from her favorite vendor, along with ice-slushy drinks that turned our lips and tongues blue.
So maybe there was something good about pizza, I thought to myself. I was engrossed in my slice of Italian goodness, while Daphne was chatting easily about her week ahead at school, and a project she had to do for her case management class. She was studying psychology because, as she said, she was truly fascinated by the way the human mind worked. She was even more curious about the werewolf mind, and how having a lupine alter-ego affected the human psyche. “But of course I can’t just throw that out there in my thesis… too many humans in university.”
I was trying to follow, and act interested, but really she was talking about things that I could not relate to. I hadn’t been to kindergarten. What did I know about university life? I was more content to watch the people around us, and savor the new food. My eyes were drawn to a middle-aged couple that was passing by, walking hand in hand, mostly because they were speaking a strange, slightly nasally language. They were almost past our table when the woman grabbed the man's arm and pointed right at me. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I heard the name Reine Levesque. Something about that name seemed weirdly familiar, like something I half-remembered from a dream. Levesque…
The man had stopped walking to stare at me, but he shook his head, “Non son impossible…” (It’s not possible.)
The woman was fumbling with her phone, “Mais les cheveux!” (but the hair!)
“Il est dyed.” (It’s dyed)
The woman had raised her phone and snapped a picture just as Daphne followed my puzzled stare to the couple. “Hey! Stop that! Put that phone away, you weirdos! You can’t just go around taking people’s photos without their permission!” She stood up, and her face was menacing.
“Sorry, she’s sorry. We mistook the girl for someone we know. Remarkable resemblance.” The man said in heavily accented English. He dragged the woman away with another, “Sorry.”
Daphne watched the couple go with a furrowed brow. “Canadian tourists.” She said with a shake of her head, lowering herself back in her seat. “They probably thought you were some kind of celebrity or something.”