The Girl Inside (Raura)

Chapter 20: The Kind You Can't Replace

3rd Person POV

"Yes! This color will contrast perfectly!" Laura squeals and scurries to the fitting room in Nordstrom while Ross sits on the white leather benches nearby. He watches her enthusiasm light up at a strapless dress on a rack and she eagerly takes the hanger into the fitting room. Ross smiles to himself, speculating in astonishment of how it's only him who's able to see her bubbly disposition so eloquently. "Ross! Can you come in here?"

He slips his iPhone in his pocket and saunters into the fitting room area to see Laura facing him in an enchanting, ruby red dress. It's bejeweled with sequins on the top, starting from the thick, tank top straps to the waist of the dress, and the design cascades freely to knee-length while the neckline sweeps down in a U-shape. "Would you mind zipping me up?" she bashfully ponders, no doubt she's played a scene like this before in her mind.

Ross takes in the alluring presence of Laura and steps forward to turn her shoulders so her full back is exposed. He tugs the zipper north, allowing his fingers to graze over Laura's skin while he grips the luscious red velvet.

As Ross completes the zipper's journey he marvels at her spin around some rotations in ecstasy so the hem of the dress flies around. His breath is hitched by the time Laura appealingly tilts her head so one side of her neck is in all ways exposed, "What do you think of this dress?"

He grins at her, "I don't know. What matters is what you think of the dress."

Laura turns around to meet the full-length, illuminated mirror, giving Ross an unobstructed view of her, "I'm deciding between this dress and the strapless one I had on. Which will best say that I'm on a red carpet and I know what I'm doing?"

Ross approaches Laura from behind so the mirror reflects them both, "If there's anything I've learned from the time we've been together, it's that a dress shouldn't matter. The key factor to a 'look' is confidence - if you're confident in what you wear, you can pull off anything on a red carpet. Hell, Laura, you could wear a trash bag and you would rock it if you relied on that bold, zealous disposition of yours."

She tilts her head to strike a pose with her hand on her hip, flashing a sassy facial expression and then laughing it off.

Ross surveys his gaze over his overjoyed Laura, wondering what he had been so ignorant to, all those years before.

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It pains him to think about Courtney's crime, how to her, a red carpet was only the next space on a board game. Designer dresses and professional makeup concealed her fake smile at each movie premiere or awards night next to Ross. The paparazzi and the live TV cameras contrived her plastic, Barbie doll image. To all of Hollywood she was a gift, the epitome of an angel's daughter. Under the surface where Ross curses himself for not bothering to dig deeper, her mind concocts a cauldron of evil that no one noticed.

In pictures on social media, it was evident that with more recent photos, a more spirited expression interpretively danced on Courtney's face. The reasoning: with each click of another camera, she was receiving more publicity and gaining fame as the photo was being uploaded.

Ross sighs, allowing his head to fall and hit the desk in the empty conference room at Hollywood Records. The painstaking memories of Courtney only seem to relieve him by this action. He reflects back to her, drilling it in his mind of how Courtney had only cherished the red carpets, not the person she was posing next to at them. Ross remembers their red carpet walks together, mentally scolding himself for not being capable of recognizing that he only cared about his and Courtney's appearance.