BAD OMENS ✬ luke hemmings

5.5 | spring break

"Michael, can you please be helpful for once?" Aria huffs, hands on her hips, as she stares at herself in the floor-length mirror in the dressing room. She spins around and purses her lips as she tries to figure out what's wrong with the dress she has on.

So far, this venture to the mall—the bigger one in the city, with more stores and variety—to find a prom dress has been utterly useless; everything Aria has come across has been too frilly, expensive, ugly, too small, or too big. And it doesn't help that her shopping partner is as useless as a fly on the wall– doing nothing other than buzzing around and annoying the hell out of her.

She knows her colour palettes, which is why she's sticking with black – red is too bold, pink washes her out, and blue is simply not her colour unless it's in the form of denim – unfortunately, Michael hasn't understood that fact. She has an idea of what she wants, so Aria made a whole Pinterest board and everything, and she's basing her selection on whether or not it loosely resembles Blair Waldorf's prom dress.

Aria runs her hands down the material; the fabric of the skirt is rough and somewhat tacky, but at least it is flowy. Though the bodice is tragic, this is still one of the best dresses she's found. Aria's shopping on a budget; she doesn't want to spend hundreds on a new dress she'll likely only wear once, and her dad won't be angry with a large purchase, but he won't be happy either.

"Uh," Michael says, looking up from his phone. "I liked the first one better," he gestures to his shoulders, "the one with the straps that went like here."

"I was thinking that too," Aria hums. "Okay, I'll get that one. It's eighty-five bucks, a steal if you ask me." She rambles, trying to convince herself of the final decision as she turns around to re-enter the dressing room to change. "I swear to god, those fuck-ass eleventh graders better not pull up in the same dress," she continues.

It is a considerable risk for her to go to a massive chain store that sells cheaper dresses, but going for something less generic decreases her chances. If Aria were to go for the simple black dress with the slit in the side – the dress that's hanging on one of the hooks in her dressing room – then the chances of unintentionally matching with some bitch, will be higher.

"It's fine. I'm pretty sure some of them are scared– they've gone and complained to one of the teachers that they're being 'intimidated' into submission." He snorts, "But I doubt they'd get the same dress as you, Aria."

"I don't trust them," she says, sweating under the bright lights of the dressing room and from all the changing she's been doing. "What happened to respect? You know? What happened to the hierarchies between grades?" She shoves her feet into her shoes, quickly tying the laces up. "And don't say I'm being a bitch, because I don't give a shit."

Aria pulls the curtain to the side and drapes dresses over her arm. She passes her chosen one to Michael for him to hold. "Can we go and get food now?" He asks, following her out, watching as she hangs the other garments on a rack before she takes the dress in his hand back. "I'm starving."

"You're always hungry," Aria comments, strolling to the registers, "we can dip and head to the diner– it's been a while since we've been there. We should also see if Ashton's around, fuck if I know where he's been hanging out at."

"I saw him like two weeks ago, I think," Michael shrugs, "said he's been swamped with the band and shit. They've been playing a couple of shows, a small tour or whatever you call it, dunno what the fucker is gonna do when his visa expires." He laughs, picking up every item in the aisle as they wait in the check-out line.

"Better hope they all get signed before that happens," she quips.

She approaches the counter, Michael awkwardly standing behind her while she buys her prom dress and pays. She politely answers the cashier by saying that Michael is not her boyfriend and isn't the one spending money– though it's not like Michael ever pays for anything in general – then grabs the paper bag and leaves.