I'll Be Fine

Don't Think About It

AN: This will make more sense later. Listen if you will. But if you choose not to, don't say I didn't warn you. Plus, Luke's wearing tights! How could you resist that?! *Edit: forgot to add the link. My bad! 😂

I try not to think about what Gotham said. But believe me, it's hard. As much as I don't want to believe he really did belong to whatever...gang? The guys he told me about are in, I wouldn't put it past him. I mean, he's the perfect cliche popular bad boy. Joining a gang is the icing on top of the romance novel that everyone fangirls about. Or fanboys about.

And here I am worried about something that came from the mouth of a fuckboy named after a fictional city in the Batman series.

I decide a night out is what I need. There was a fancy party uptown I heard about. Some sort of masquerade ball. Whereas I prefer clubbing myself, a ball sounds good, oddly enough. Maybe my brain was swapped with that of an uptown slut, who knows. The weird thing is, I'm not bothered by the thought of that.

I grab my wallet and head out. To the mall while it's still open. I find a shop that looks pretty classy. Too classy for me, that's for sure. But I have a fake ID which pretty much covers every inquiry. Having a con as a step father pans out sometimes.

I put on my best bitch-face and step in. To look like one of the snooty people that belong here, all I have to do is treat people like crap and brag about anything and everything. I can handle that. A sales lady approaches me. "Pardon me, ma'am," she begins, her nose scrunching up in disgust, emphasizing 'ma'am', "but you seem to be in the wrong store. Might I direct you to Spencer's?" The lady finishes, her mouth now turned up into a sneer.

Okay, remember, just act like a huge bitch. You'll fit right in! The thought ends on a cheery note. If only I really felt that confident...

I smirk at the lady. "Pardon me, ma'am," I imitate her tone, "but this is a high-end establishment. Might I direct you to a street corner?" My question isn't entirely just to prove that she can't boss me around. The lady's shirt hangs so low I'm not surprised it's not classified as a public disturbance, and if her skirt was any shorter there'd be nothing there at all.

She scoffs at me, pointing her nose in the air. "Do you need something?" She asks, clearly annoyed that I'm still here. "As a matter of fact, I do." I respond, copying her totally fake British accent. "I'm looking for a dress fit for the uptown masquerade ball."

"Something black while you're at it." I add as she starts walking towards the many racks of expensive dresses. She plucks out a few and uses her fingers to mentally size me up.

I try not to be bothered by this. I'm not that  big, am I?

I look down at my stomach. Nah, it's pretty small. All that running thus far has paid off, I suppose. Not that it really matters. At least if I was fat, I wouldn't have to worry about constantly eating Nutella.

Once the lady is done sizing me up, she picks out a handful of dresses and motions for me to come over. I obey, strutting over to see what she's picked out. I expect a whole lot of nothing, but when I see the dresses she's found my breath catches in my throat.

They're all equally dazzling. In any of these, I could look like a movie star. Or not. I'm not anywhere near that  pretty. I'd probably look like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

...or cheap...either way..

I decide to go with a black dress with a black lace neck. The straps on the back criss-crossed over each other, making it look elegant yet still a little bit showy. To top it off, I pick out a mature-looking black mask. The both of them together are absolutely gorgeous and when I try them on, I feel my breath catch in my throat. But not entirely because of how I look, the dress is kinda tight. But it basically flattens out my stomach, making it look slim and practically nonexistant. I don't normally strive to look thin-or ever-but the dress makes it work, if I do say so myself.