Blur the Line

chapter 3

"Not that one," Tiff said firmly. "You look like a mandarin orange." She paused. "A mouldy mandarin orange."

Isla frowned. Her blonde flatmate was squinting out of her iPhone screen, a spoon hovering halfway to her mouth. Fruit Loops, no doubt; Tiff had an addiction to the cereal after spending a summer in New York. She had also, Isla thought wryly, picked up some of the American brutal honesty. Or maybe that was just Tiff.

"I like it," Isla said mildly.

"Oh dear." Tiff took another bite of cereal. "I always suspected you were colour blind. Now I know for sure."

Isla twirled around in front of the mirror. The dress wasn't that bad. Admittedly, Tiff had a point about the orange-and-green spots, but the fit was good; it hugged her waist and waterfalled out to her knees. And Lucas always said that he loved her in green. This was sort of green, wasn't it?

"What if I wore a shawl?" Isla suggested. "That could improve the... er..." She picked at the lacy collar. "Well, the neckline could be improved."

"Honey," Tiff said, "the only way you can improve that dress is by burning it."

"Tiff!" Isla hissed.

Isla glanced nervously at the shop assistant. But the girl in pigtails was watching the television in the corner of the shop, her eyes fixed on the telly. Race cars zoomed around a track, and an Australian commentator was saying something about Matthew Carr taking the lead. Isla's heart fell. Shit. If Lucas lost, he wouldn't be happy tonight.

And she needed him to be in a good mood.

Isla thumbed through a rack of dresses. She could have gone to the race, she supposed, but that would have required sitting next to Lucas's parents. And his Team Principal. And listening to thousands of fans chanting his name.

She couldn't face that. Not yet.

No, Isla thought, pulling out a floaty green dress, she would see Lucas tonight at the party. They could fix things. She was sure of it.

She held up the green dress. "What do you think?"

Tiff wrinkled her nose. "It's very Tinkerbell."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Try on the black one," Tiff suggested. "The one in the corner."

Isla followed her eyes to where a little black dress hung on the wall. It was silky and dipped low at the front, offering about as much coverage as Vodafone in the remote Scottish Highlands. She frowned.

"It's very..." Isla hesitated. "Form-fitting."

"Exactly," Tiff said.

She frowned. "Lucas isn't like that. He likes long dresses."

Come to think of it, Lucas used to tease her for wearing red lipstick. I don't understand, he'd say, shaking his head. It's so bright. She'd started wearing nude or pink after that. No, Lucas had never been one for tight clothing or crazy parties. Saint Lucas, Matthew always called him, and Isla had to admit that he had a point.