Cheeky

№ 24. I'll Hurt Him

Is it possible to feel a color? Something tangible and solid, turned into an emotion? Bulls see red, and they charge with blind fury; others say that green is the color of envy. But is it possible to feel every color imaginable, all at once. To feel golden and warm, like a setting sun over a wide ocean. To feel navy blue, like the sky as a curtain when night falls and it tucks the whole world to sleep. Or to feel pink, like fresh roses just as they bloom.

I felt everything, everything when Emma asked me how George made me feel. I went through the motions of trying to dance around the subject, but in the end my emotions got the better of me. I gave up on my head and decided that logic wouldn't serve as the best guide in this situation.

"Well, Cassidy?"

Emma looked up at me from the floor where she munched on strawberries in a pile of poofy fabric, nearly swallowing her delicate frame whole. I stood on a stool, examining my reflection in the three paneled mirror. It was a strapless dress, made of lavender chiffon with a massive bow stitched onto my midsection for gaudy taste. Mom had made arrangements with the bridal store in London to provide a closet full of possible bridesmaids' dresses for the wedding, for once giving me the option to choose if I liked any of them. But of course, she had last say as to what Emma and I would wear for her special day. The one I was wearing now wasn't nearly as revolting as the last five, so my spirits began to pick up. I turned back to Emma, twirling for her.

"What do you think of this one?"

Emma shoved away the plate of strawberries and attempted to get up, but from the mound of layers suffocating her, she reached out desperately for my aid. I grasped onto her thin arms and hauled her up beside me, where she stood to get a good look.

"I like this one. Now if we could just burn the bow, it's be fantastic."

I picked at the sides, trying to smooth out the buttery fabric over my not-so slender frame. Hey, I had hips, sue me. That's what Spanx were made for anyways.

I glanced over at her dress, shooting her an amused frown, "Now that one is just plain ugly."

Emma shrugged, lifting up the skirts of the dress to try and see if she could at least get a view of her feet, "Eh, it's not all bad."

"You look like you can get buried alive in that thing," I tugged at her shoulder strap.

She shooed away my hand and returned to the other side of the dressing room to grab another possible candidate, "You still didn't answer my question."

I pretended not to hear her as I began to unzip my dress and shimmy out of it.

"Don't ignore me."

I groaned, heaving the dress on a growing pile of rejections as I picked another, "Why does it matter?"

Emma popped her head out from one of the changing stalls,

"Because you're my best friend, and I want to kick any guy in the balls that might remotely hurt you."

I smiled at her statement, slipping on a garment that felt amazing to the touch, and surprisingly enough, I actually really liked.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that," I called back to her when I managed to get the zipper to stop jamming.

Emma shuffled out of her stall in a teal atrocity and I burst out laughing as she shook her head in shame, "I'm really beginning to doubt your mother's taste."

"Told you so," I giggled.

Her eyes grew wide though when she caught sight of the dress I was in, and she gestured with her hand for me to spin. I did so, slowly to let her analyze every angle, and she grinned in approval.