Anomaly

Chapter 18

A long argument ensued about what Amelie would be wearing to The Elysian. I wasn't so much upset with her as simply surprised at how stubborn she was on this topic. Which was a problem because I was stubborn on every topic.

I suppose you'll judge me for insisting that she dress up, but surely, you've gotten to know me a bit by now? If she was going as my date for the evening and we were likely to bump into...someone who shall remain unnamed. Well, I had to uphold certain standards.

After I got some food into her, she grew a bit more pliable and finally agreed to try on a dress if it meant so much to me. Yes. Yes, it did.

You can't accuse me of being a completed inconsiderate asshole. I picked a dress that fit her style: a black sleeveless mini dress with a turtleneck. Based on Amelie's tightly pursed lips, I think the only part she liked was the turtleneck.

She went into the bathroom to change. After two hours of arguing about it, I found myself sitting anxiously on the edge of the sofa, holding up my chin on my hands. What if I picked the wrong size and it would give her an excuse not to wear it?

"Exla, I really don't think this is going to work," she called from behind the closed door.

Dammit.

"Wrong size?" I asked trying to sound unconcerned.

"No." I could hear her pacing back and forth in front of the mirror. "It's not that."

"What is it then?"

"I don't think I can pull off something so revealing."

Was that it? We argued for two hours because she was insecure about her body. Women...

"Don't be ridiculous. Even when you're covered head to toe I can see that you're fit as –"

"Yes, I am in good shape," She interrupted in a matter-of-fact voice. "That is not the problem."

There was a deep sigh and then the door opened.

She stood in the doorframe lit from behind by the bathroom light.

My Defect eyes did not deceive me in this at least: she was fit as fuck, and her shoulders looked great in that sleeveless dress. It wasn't until she walked into the more moderate light of my room that I realized why she was awkwardly trying to hide her exposed arms and legs. She was covered in scars.

I felt an overwhelming urge to know everything about those scars. I succumbed to the impulse and crossed the few feet that separated us. At first Amelie tensed up, but when I reached out for her, she held out her arms towards me. I traced my finger over one of the scars.

"What's this from?" I asked.

"When I was little the neighbours' dog suddenly went rabid and tried to attack their son while we were playing together. I jumped in to protect him, so it bit me instead."

The dent from the canine teeth felt smooth and strangely misshapen. My hand travelled lower over the coarse ridges of uneven skin to the next scar.

"What is this from?"

"Two summers ago, I managed to convince my nanny to let me go to a summer camp in Sweden. There was a nosy councillor there who was always worried about me because I didn't make any friends, so I agreed to go with her to the islands for a swim. There was a sudden storm and some tourists lost control of the drone they were using to take photos. It was going to crash into my councillor, and she would have probably fallen off the cliff, so I caught the drone, but after that I had to go back home for reconstructive surgery."

Fuck me! What a life! And who the hell asks their nanny for permission to go to summer camp when they're 16?

My fingers slid down all the way to her wrists. Her skin suddenly grew cold to my touch, and she blushed. I felt a series of perpendicular lines.

"And this?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"I was just being silly," she answered. Her voice was so hallow it was like a gust of wind. "I thought that maybe if I hurt myself my Bad Luck would stop hurting others."

She gave a lopsided smile.

I let go of her wrists and pulled her into an embrace. No, not a kiss – I couldn't let her see my face just then. She didn't hug back, but she buried her face in my shoulder. It took me a moment to find my voice.

"You look stunning in this dress," I whispered. "I guessed right. You're fit as fuck."

I felt her shuddering against me. Thank god. That meant she couldn't feel me shuddering.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was being a spoiled brat. You don't have to wear a party dress if you don't want to, even though I think you look amazing scars and all. I'll go find you something else."

But of course, I didn't go right away. I enjoyed the warmth she radiated, and I held onto Amelie until I was sure that my eyes were perfectly dry. When I stepped away, I could almost swear that there were fewer scars than before...or maybe I just got used to them.

We finally settled on a pair of skinny jeans and a bright pink tank top with sheer mesh sleeves, which were shiny enough to distract from the scars. It wasn't exactly Amelie's style, but hopefully she wouldn't stand out too much in the midst of our most spoiled members of Elysian high society.

I changed my outfit too obviously. If Amelie couldn't be the star of the evening, someone had to.