Love Sucks

Pins and Needles - Chapter Sixteen

"The past could always be annihilated. Regret, denial, or forgetfulness could do that. But the future was inevitable."

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Grey

***

Abbi had been pricked and stabbed for hours on end. Her waist and chest were being assaulted by the Dressmaker's needle, and frankly, Abbi was getting quite sick of it.

Nathaniel couldn't have went for a slip on dress, or something simple you could find at Dillards. Instead, he wanted a hand-made, perfectly measured stunning gown with a million pokes that followed it. And the ball was still three days away.

Apparently, Nate put vivid stress that the dress had to be perfect, but he didn't even want to see it. This, had Abbi feeling relieved, and slightly upset.

She had been standing on top of the tiny elevated step, while a plump old woman turned around Abbi, spinning and stroking her pin and a wave of fabric.

Though, even Abbi had to admit, as much pain and irritation this dress had caused, it was simply magnificent. Apparently the Dressmaker, with her ruddy red cheeks, and wiry hair had a bit more talent than she perceived.

The down of the gown was made from a linen skirt, layered to puff out around Abbi's legs, while a sheen of smoky gauze-like-material coated the top; all tapered together by a black and white rose. The bodice was a stiff thing of sorts, only able to maneuver in, if one was wearing a corset (sadly). Inky black lace was in crested upon alabaster white top, and frayed to cover only one arm.

Abbi had to admit, this dress was made for her (literally) and it was impeccably just enough to compliment every aspect of her features, while letting her eyes simmer in a glower of amber.

"Stay put." The Dressmaker demanded, jabbing Abbi with her slender needle, again.

Abbi apologized, and sucked in a breath - trying not to breath. The old woman started a slow and wheezing chuckle.

"You certainly are somethin', Dearest." She was British, with a thick accent that molted her words together. And, surprisingly, she wasn't a vampire. Or at least, Abbi didn't think so. Vampires seemed so pale, beautiful, and complete, and this woman was chubby, tempered, and in Abbi's case - needling.

"I'm not sure if your insulting me, but I'll take it as a compliment," Abbi breathed huskily, the corset was like a bind to any access of oxygen, and 'staying put' was a bigger task than she thought. Also, the fact that she'd been here for roughly more than an hour would put a damper on one's mood. "As you wish," The woman huffed, still laughing under her breath.

There was a loud and presumptuous knocking on the door, and the Dressmaker suddenly stopped - much to Abbi's relief.

Evie stormed into the room, looking dazzling in a maroon sweater dress, with her copper hair tied in a knot on top her head. She immediately found Abbi, and a smile pulled her lips.

"Oh, I told him! I told him you would look absolutely amazing, didn't I? Yes, Yes, of course, And he wanted you to pick what you wanted! That wouldn't have done at all, now would it Abigail, dear?" Evie laughed cheerfully and clapped her hands together.

"Evie ... are you telling me that you're the one who put me through hours, and hours of this?" Abbi asked, eyeing the girl. She had assumed it was Nathaniel ...

"Well duh!" Evie giggled. "Nathaniel is much too soft, once he heard you complaining he would have given in! And whats the fun in that?"

Abbi sighed, earning a smack from the Dressmaker, as she grumbled another. "Stay still!"

"So, were you invited to the ball, Evangeline?" Abbi asked, still dejected.

Evie shook her head, a pout turning her lips in the other direction. "Of course not." She seemed to almost stick her nose in the air. "My family is strictly Middle-Class ... Only higher royals, or people who the Council debs worthy are to receive invitations." Abbi attempted to cheer up the girl, "Well its their loss anyways. At least you want to go."

Evie gave Abbi a strange look. "The most important ball of the century, and she doesn't want to go. Its just dastardly, don't you think, Reyonna?" Evie looked pointedly at the Dressmaker. So that was her name.

Reyonna merely shrugged. "Lass's mind works in weird ways, Missus." Abbi glared. "Well, it's not like I want to see Lucifer." She mumbled. Evie heard her, without a doubt, but she nor Reyonna made any further comment.

Reyonna stopped threading her needle through a certain patch of the dress and looked up at Abbi. "You still gos' more of 'e dress, to be fitted; but I'll be givin' you a break witch your copper. Go have some cheers, or whatever you septics do."

Abbi looked curiously towards Evie. "Copper means friend. And septic is an American" She explained quietly, earning another heavy puff of air from Reyonna, as the woman was slowly trying to get Abbi out from the gown. Once the corset was removed, as well as the heavy layers of dress, Abbi sucked in breath after breath. Reyonna offered her a glass of water, and Abbi greedily took it, looking down at the thin dressing gown she was wearing.

"Would'ja like your frock?" Reyonna held up Abbi's day dress, which was once flung across the chair. She nodded and scrambled to put it on.

When she returned from the dressing rooms, Evie was snickering with a guffawing Reyonna. Giving them a confused glance, Abbi slowly approached. Evie pounced on her, grabbing Abbi's arm and suddenly pulled the girl towards the exit.

"See you tomorrow, Reyonna, darling!" Evie mused.

"Eh." Reyonna grunted.

As soon as they were out of the dress shop, Abbi gratefully turned towards Evie. "Oh thank God, you saved me. I swear - that woman was trying to poke me! I'm pretty sure I'm going to have scars, now."

Evie chuckled before gasping at a shoe store. "Oh those look absolutely amazing!" She squealed, leaving Abbi alone on the side walk. "They come in pink!"

With a sigh, Abbi looked around. Her feet were killing her, and she couldn't stand any longer. There was a bench nearby, and with a swift glance at Evie -- seeing that the girl wasn't going anywhere for a while -- she sat down.

"Hello," A warm and inviting voice mused. Abbi turned her head and met a curious gaze of brooding brown eyes. The boy had messily tousled caramel hair, broad shoulders and a deep smirk. She held the stare for seconds longer before snapped her neck away, keeping her eyes low.

"Hi." She returned the gesture awkwardly.

He seemed to be amused by something, then, the expression faded and watched her closely. "I'm sorry ... you must be confused, but seeing you, sitting here, I couldn't pass up the chance to speak with a girl like yourself."

"What do you mean?" Abbi asked, turning her fists at her sides, "A girl like yourself?"

"You're very beautiful." He stated forwardly, that smirk coming back into play.

"Thanks ... but no thanks. I'm not interested."

That's when Abbi felt anxious hands yanking at her shoulders as someone pulled her from her seat. Evie stood there, fuming, with a murderous scowl stabbing at the boy. "Who is this Abigail? Why are you with him?"

"He just-" Abigail started, before the boy cut into her sentence.

"-Abigail" He smiled wildly at this, "It would be amazing to see you again. My name is Lucas."

Lucas.

With one more lingering smirk he turned away and strode down the street; a sharp and arrogant poise to his step as he went.