I look suspiciously at the dress she's holding. It really is a simple and beautiful black dress: it's got thin straps, a neckline just scandalous enough that it will show the curve of my cleavage, and it fits tight against my body until it reaches the top of my thighs. It's the perfect LBD.
"Lucy said I should just wear jeans and a nice top," I argue. I wear enough skirts at work that I try to dress comfortably when I'm not in the office. Jeans and combat boots are my preferred outfit.
Hailey rolls her eyes. "Lucy doesn't know what she's talking about. Either that, or she thinks that's the extent of you dressing up."
I sigh. "Probably the latter. Okay, I'll wear it. But there's not a chance in hell I'm doing heels. I'll wear my combat boots."
Hailey shakes her head as she turns to hang the dress on the closet door. "Fine, but wear the high heeled combat boots instead of your normal flat ones. You could afford to at least try to look like a woman instead of a KGB spy."
I raise an eyebrow and point to the dress. "That dress is barely long enough to cover my ass. I assure you, I will look like a woman regardless of the height of my shoes."
I hear her chuckle even as she pulls her own outfit from her bag. I peek curiously at the clothes she pulls on.
She’s wearing black high-waisted jeans and a dark gray long sleeve shirt that has extra fabric connecting the arms to the body of the shirt. It’s thin and flowy and would look cute if it was tight, but it’s so loose that it looks more like a poncho than a top. Between the dark colors and the fit of the clothes themselves, Hailey’s body is completely hidden. The icing on the cake is when Hailey hides away her beautiful hair by pulling it into a ponytail.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I think about how I can ask my next question without sounding like a total judgmental ass. "That's… pretty conservative for what you usually wear when we go out. What's going on?"
Hailey fidgets with the zipper on her bag, avoiding eye contact. "Steve's not really comfortable with me wearing what I usually wear," she finally mumbles. "I figured I'd tone it down a bit and cover up more. No big deal."
My frown deepens as her words sink in. I'm all for toning down the hooker outfits once a girl has a boyfriend, but Hailey's never dressed provocatively. She's just naturally so beautiful that any nice outfit she wears automatically makes her beauty stand out. Right now, it seems like she's actually trying to cover herself up. The only thing more conservative would be a turtleneck.
My eyes widen when a thought occurs to me. "Did he tell you that you could only go out if you cover up?"
Hailey's head snaps toward mine, her eyes wide. "N-no, of course not," she stammers, and I immediately see through her lie.
I can feel my fury start to boil in my veins. I always had a suspicion that Steve was controlling, but this is now officially at an unacceptable level. I've noticed changes in my sister over the past few weeks, changes in her confidence and how she spends her time. She barely sees her friends anymore and where before she was a strong-willed, independent woman, she now seems to need Steve's input for everything. I knew he was changing her even before she described their issues to me; this just confirms it.
I take a deep breath to calm myself. I myself have never been in a controlling relationship, but I’ve known plenty of strong women that have found themselves in similar situations. There’s something about manipulative men that can get through to even the strongest women, so I know it can happen to anyone—even my sister.
"Hailey," I start softly. "You know I love you, and I'll support any decision you make. But Steve shouldn't be giving you ultimatums. You should be able to wear whatever the fuck you want."
I try not to sound patronizing or accusing, but she still gets defensive at my words. She glares at me. "He's not giving me ultimatums. I'm just being understanding of his concerns. We can't all just do whatever we want in relationships and not give a fuck about the other person."
I swallow and look down at my hands. I know she's just lashing out, but her words still hurt. I've always been the one to wear the pants in my relationships, partly because I'm an assertive bitch who knows what she wants, and partly because I've always been the one to care the least. Boyfriends have often accused me of being selfish and heartless.
Although if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve always thought it was just because I have yet to find someone worth caring about.
"I just don't want you to be unhappy," I say quietly. "You deserve the best, and I want you to be with someone that pushes you to go after your dreams, that makes you happy, that lets you be every bit of the confident, beautiful, intelligent woman that you are." I look up to see her eyes have softened. "If Steve is that for you, then I'll shut up. But I'm here if he's not."
She sighs and comes over to sit next to me on the bed. "You don't have to worry about that. Steve is good for me, and I'm happy. I'm just trying to compromise with him so we're both happy."
I nod, sensing that the conversation is over. I won't get any more out of her until she herself realizes that he's not who she thinks he is. Or maybe I'm wrong and they're actually good for each other. Who knows? I'd love to be wrong about this.
In a normal lovey-dovey family, I'd probably give her a big hug, but we're not that. Instead, she punches me in the arm. "Go get your curling iron. I'll grab the tequila and make us some drinks so we can start pregaming."
I grin at the word 'tequila' and bounce off the bed. I practically skip down the hallway to the bathroom.
But I pause when I pass Tristan's room. His door is wide open, and my gaze is drawn to his unmade bed. Suddenly I'm flashing back to the night that I caught him with a girl, when he was sitting half naked at the edge of said bed.
I feel my heart rate pick up. I can't help remembering his toned chest, or the way he had been gripping the girl's waist. I can't help thinking about what they would've been doing a few minutes later if I hadn't interrupted them.
Then I remember his words to me that night.I promise I can fuck you better than whatever nerds you've slept with before.
I shiver at the memory. I know Tristan's reputation and I know the way my body reacted to him that night—I have no doubt that he could keep that promise.
I clench my legs against the growing ache between them at that thought.
I jump when I hear Hailey pass by me. She pauses at the top of the steps, her hand on the railing, and looks at me with confusion. "All good?"