Ticktock Love

[24] The Lizzie Hall Movie

Grace rifled through a dense rack of cocktail dresses, tutting at every single one that passed through her dexterous hands.

"Just choose one," I sighed in exasperation as I balanced several of her previous choices in one hand, a shopping bag with my own Homecoming apparel clutched in the other.

She frowned. "They all suck. Old Navy had much better options. Remember that checkered yellow skirt with pockets? I wish that one was a dress."

I tapped my foot against the tiled floor while the stuffy shopping mall air was slowly earning me a headache. We had already spent about two hours at this place, flying from one shop to another like busy bumblebees on a mission. I had found my winner about fifteen minutes into our errand, a beautiful strapless bubble dress in the lapis blue, an absolute knockout next to its gray and red sisters. Meanwhile, Grace found a fatal flaw in every single outfit I fell in love with – the skirt was too ruffled, the breast area was too tight, the collar itched or seemed ridiculous.

"Do you want us to go back there?" I generously offered, already wishing for a drink for my parched throat.

To my disappointment, Grace vigorously shook her head. "No. Let's just keep looking."

She moved on to the next rack and started stroking the material, almost kneading it between her fingers. The shop attendant sitting behind the cashier desk glared at her in distaste. Grace never noticed. Like a true drama queen with a kickass eyeliner to go with her theatrics, my friend scoffed, took the dress off the hanger, and threw it over my loaded arm.

"Just feel this material. Like sandpaper," she spat out. "I've used toilet rolls that were softer."

"Grace," I hissed, shifting my weight so that my shoulder would stop hurting. "Are you going to try them out or not?"

Her head snapped toward the clothes I was carrying, a precarious snow heap threatening to turn into an avalanche. She checked her phone, and her eyes visibly widened.

"What is it?"

Her lips pressed in determination as she put it back in her pocket.

"You know what? I changed my mind. Let's put them back."

I blinked twice, fast. "You're kidding."

"Why?"

I pushed everything except my own bag into her hands and swiftly walked away, annoyed beyond my usual Saturday afternoon limits.

"Liz, no! Wait!" I heard her call out, but I just rolled my eyes and strode on.

Grace fumbled with putting the dresses back where she had found them in the first place – the shuffling sounds of swooshing fabric and wood scraping against metal clued me in on that. I had already glided past the anti-theft sensors when she grabbed my wrist from behind, her breathing ragged from running after me.

"Could you please slow down a bit?" she asked after she inhaled deeply, clutching her breasts. "I hate running with these. Hurts like hell."

"I just need a break," I said, raising my hands to rub my aching temples. "We've been at it for hours. What are you even searching for?"

Grace shrugged, glancing at her phone again. "I'm not sure. I want something that's long, but also short. I want it to have pockets, but I don't want people to be able to see them. And I don't want the color to wash me out. And it should definitely be on the cheaper side, but good quality. Like satin, or silk."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Gracey, hate to break it to you, but you're searching for a Holy Grail. Maybe we should just call it a day."

"I don't think so," she thwarted my beautiful, introvert-indulging plans. "There are still a few stores we haven't been to yet."