An Endless Serenade

Chapter Thirty-Three

                 The next week and a half passed by way too quickly for my liking. My fingers were healing well, easing only a small fraction of my anxiety. Nationals was coming up way too fast. And with Paul being told to rest as much as he could, it was almost impossible for him to help me practice aside from standing there and giving me tips on how to transition more easily. And since I was still trying to let my fingers rest, I only played it through once or twice a day, which meant there wasn't much practicing. So we usually just ended up going over the sheet music. But it wasn't like I wasn't ready— I just felt jittery whenever I thought about playing in front of thousands of people for the title of best in the nation.

And I was required to dress up. And on the list of things I owned, a nice formal dress wasn't included. And with the contest two days away, I was cutting it close.

Which was why I was currently in a fitting room at Macy's with half a dozen red dresses hanging on the wall. After I'd insisted Aspen come shopping with me, she'd insisted that red was my color. I followed along with what she said, but the first few dresses were so ugly I didn't even bother showing them to Aspen.

"Come out!" she yelled to me. "You've been in there forever."

I smoothed out the front of the dress I'd just slipped into. It was the second to last one and it was boxy and skintight. I hated it. "Why should I bother showing you if I hate it already?" I asked, stepping out of the fitting room.

Aspen eyed me up and down with a grin. "You're hot."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Please."

"Don't you agree, Elliot?" she said, nudging the young man beside her. He looked at me with disinterest before returning his attention to his phone.

I gave Aspen a flat look. What was she trying to do? There was no way in hell Elliot was going to compliment me. He hadn't even wanted to come along until she had a go at him. She really knew how to press his buttons. Either that or she was just so annoying that he'd agreed to come just to shut her up.

"Try on the other ones," she urged, making a shooing motion with her hands.

"There's only one left, the other ones suck. I hate dresses. I don't look good in them. My legs are too short and—"

"Allie, you look fine," she interjected, shaking her head. "We just need to find you the right one. Now go on."

Groaning, I marched back into the fitting room. It took forever to get in and out of dresses. When I finally shimmied into the last one, I immediately began to take it off. It was poofy and there was no way anyone was going to see me in it. My self-confidence was dropping quickly. I briefly thought about buying a pantsuit.

"Allie? Try this one on," Aspen said, knocking on the door.

Only in my underwear, I stuck my hand out for the dress. "This is going to be the last one."

"I hope so," she replied and I shut the door.

Feeling monotonous, I once again climbed into the dress and pulled it up over me. Then I turned around and faced the mirror. I blinked at my reflection.

It looked awesome.

The dress seemed to be made for me. The top of looked simple— tight-fitted with v-neckline— but it also had fabric at the bottom of the v all the way to the waist, making it look like it was wrapped vertically. Then it tightened at the waist with a thin band, and the bottom was ruffled lightly, a few layers on top of the longest. It felt to just above the knee, a comfortable length. I turned sideways to look at my butt and I grinned. It looked great.