A Life Worth Living (Aizawa x OC)

33 - Girl Talk

My legs were close to giving out when I found this incredibly appealing bench in the mall, planting my ass on it and carefully placing several shopping bags that were filled to the brim next to me whilst letting out a sigh to express my exhaustion.

My feet hurt. My back hurt. Everything hurt. All I wanted to do was to go home, jump on the couch, wrap myself into my fluffy blanket, and take a good nap.

Oh shit. I already sound like an old woman. I'm 29 not 92.

By now, we had already stopped in every single one of these fucking stores on our search for what Nemuri had titled the one and only perfect dress for Saturday. For me this whole venture had rather evoked the impression that she was on a quest to find the holy grail.

Apparently, the holy grail of sexiness.

My blue-eyed friend had made clear from the beginning that her feet would only step outside of this mall when we had found what she wanted us to find, not even providing me with the opportunity to object.

During our adventurous journey through the shops, I had presumably tried on what felt like thousands of different dresses she had basically thrown at my face without warning.

I had to slip into all of them, including the ones that barely consisted of more than fabric to cover the parts of my body I considered as essential to be covered. Even the term revealing was still too generous for these dresses.

I had pointed out in advance that I wouldn't leave the house with something like this but to no avail. Discussion was not an option for that woman.

About fifty dresses later and an almost breakdown in the fitting room, she had finally agreed to listen to my preferences, reluctantly accepting that we definitely hadn't the same style with a defeated if not crestfallen expression on her beautiful face.

But as someone who had gotten married in a pair of jeans and a plain shirt, I could confidently say that I just wanted something simple and especially comfy, something in which I wouldn't have to ensure that everything was sitting in the right place every five seconds.

On top of that, my body was basically littered with scars in all imaginable forms and sizes, which were not exactly what I would label as appealing to the eye. I'm pretty sure that Nemuri had taken notice of them when she had forced me to present her every single dress that I had squeezed myself in in a catwalk-like manner, but seemingly she had decided to not address them – much to my relief.

After what had felt like an eternity, we had finally found something. Well, I had basically surrendered and decided to go for the last one she had given me to try on, which was one I had actually liked – definitely more than the others. It hadn't made me feel self-conscious, which had been enough to convince me.

Nemuri had picked up a burgundy dress with a dangerously low v-neckline, but damn, that woman was stunning, and here booming level of confidence increased this effect even more. I had admired her with my mouth ajar while she had excitedly presented me her dress.

But in the end, I think that I've never felt as relieved as when I had heard the words I think we're done coming from Nemuri's mouth.

"Here, I got you one, Hima."

Nemuri's voice tore me from my thoughts, and I gratefully accepted the coffee she handed me while expressing my gratitude with several muttered thank yous.

This is exactly what I need right now.

The R-rated heroine in civilian clothes sat down next to me on the bench, rearranging the shopping bags while doing so, and added with a giggle, "Wow, you look like you could totally use a nap."