And Dusk

Chapter 5: The Swedish Job

Warnings: racial discrimination

Word Count: 3131

(Y/N) wheezed as the coral dress she had just slipped into squeezed her ribcage so tight, she was beginning to see stars. Grace nodded in acknowledgement before shaking her head at the tailor. The woman at the girl's side frowned slightly. "Are you sure, ma'am? I can touch it up so that it wouldn't squeeze her so much."

"I'm quite sure. It isn't a good color for her." Grace waved her hand in dismissal. Once the dress had been removed, (Y/N) greedily inhaled as much oxygen as she could into her lungs. When the tailor walked away to retrieve another dress from the hanger rack, the girl leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees.

"Mom, this is the... fifth dress now," She breathed. "How many more of these do I need to try on?"

"Hun, I just want you to look perfect. Preston already has his suit picked out and it'd be nice if you two would match-"

"Wait," The girl waved her hands in the air. "Preston?"

Grace frowned. "Yes, Preston."

"But I just went on a date with him! I have to see him all the time?!"

"If you're gonna marry him, then yes!"

(Y/N) groaned and rubbed her face with both her hands as the tailor returned to her side with a baby blue dress. Grace shook her head in distaste before it could even be tried on and motioned for another one to be picked out. Huffing, (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled to herself, eliciting a soft laugh from her mother. "You'll be fine, (Y/N), the four of us are arrivin' at the gala together. Now, doesn't that sound a little better?"

The girl hesitated at first, but nodded. "Yeah, I guess it does..." She whispered before the tailor was slipping her into another dress. This one was chiffon and orange, flower designs starting from the torso and spreading up the chest, and out to the see-through sleeves. Grace squealed and circled her index finger in the air.

"Go 'head and twirl for me, darlin'." She clapped as (Y/N) bashfully smiled and spun in a circle for her mother. "It's beautiful! Perfect! We'll have this one!" She vigorously nodded, the tailor visibly sagging in relief. (Y/N) let out a sigh and chuckled at her mother's excitement. She had to admit, though, it was a beautiful dress. Perhaps not one she would wear if she was in her actual body, but it was fitting for her physical age. Once the tailor packed up and left their home, Grace let (Y/N) change back into her casual clothing before guiding her downstairs. "Time for dancin' lessons."

Entering the parlor, (Y/N) was greeted by her dance instructor and Preston. Smiling tightly, she stepped lightly into the middle of the floor with the boy.

"Let's pick up where we left off, children." The instructor's flowy voice sounded as he put on a record for the music. In preparation of the gala, Reginald insisted they practice with Mariachi music, much to Preston's distaste. The boy rolled his eyes behind their instructor's back as the music began to flow throughout the house. He slyly slipped his arm around (Y/N)'s waist and took one of her hands in his. With a sigh, the girl placed her free hand on his shoulder. "And... one, two, three, one, two, three, one- No," The instructor cut himself off and marched up to the two. "Ms Hargreeves, you do not lead. Mr Hildebrand must lead."

"Sorry." She whispered as he stepped back. Preston quietly chuckled at her in a mocking manner that had her clenching her jaw. If he had known the first thing about dancing, I wouldn't need to lead, she thought to herself as their feet began moving again.

"One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two- Mr Hildebrand, focus on your partner! Dance is about the emotion, do not stare at your feet. Are you going to the gala with your feet?"