chapter 21: you should feel special

Ronnie stole her sausage.

The man reached across the table and stuck his fork into the girl's sausage patty that she had been saving for last as she ate her pancakes. The minute the metal tips were in the patty, he brought it to his mouth and ate the entire thing in one bite.

"Ronnie!" August screeched, grabbing the spoon next to her plate and reaching over to slap his hand with the bulged side of it.

"Oh, so the lass is a feisty one?" Darragh commented, his thick accent almost incoherent as he took a large bite into a crunchy piece of toast. The man wore a tank top that morning, showing off his enormous bicep which had a huge black spade tattooed on it.

"I believe she's a witch, on the contrary." Patrick leaned his head over Willow so he could look at the girl. "And spoons must be her magic wand!"

The gruff men at the dining room table laughed, and August looked up to see Willow smiling through the glass of orange juice pressed to her lips.

"Is my hand supposed to fall off later tonight?" Ronnie asked after he finally swallowed the stolen sausage, holding his dark hand up in the air and looking at with an exaggerated expression.

"Not unless I come saw it off in your sleep tonight," August remarked, giving a victorious smirk as the whole table "oohed" at her comment.

"Well, I think you being in a man's room at night would cause more concern for my death than an amputated hand. Right, Will?" Ronnie looked at Willow through his lashes as he sipped on his glass of chocolate milk.

The whole table watching in silence and confusion, Willow momentarily glared at him before rolling her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Will."

"I know what he's talking about," Cornelia butted in, reaching behind herself to adjust her blonde bun. "I was walking towards you at the bar last night to say hi, when I saw you grab Hank and make him nearly shit himself. Like, really, I think he went to the bathroom to change his pants afterwards."

August discreetly put her hand over her mouth, trying to keep from letting out a chuckle at Cornelia's comment.

"What did Hank do now?" Patrick groaned, his head tilting back to look up at the ceiling for a moment. "The bastard shouldn't even be with us anymore."

Willow sighed, shifting in her seat. "He was just...being inappropriate."

"Right, and so naturally Will had to mark her...territory." Ronnie's eyebrows raised towards the girl who sat in front of him.

"Oh, shit," whispered Cornelia beside her.

"Ronn—"

"So ya'll are fucking?" Patrick cut off Willow, looking between the two women with his wide blue eyes.

"Is she even legal?" Cornelia again whispered, looking up and down the girl as if she would find her age tattooed somewhere on her like a sticker.

"Enough!" Willow barked, cutting short the snickering and chattering of the table. "Hank was being Hank, so I took care of it. Do I even need to say more?" She let her palms face the ceiling as they laid on the table in front of her, her eyes scrolling past each of the people at the table to make sure they understood.

"No, boss," Darragh answered her. "A just need to know one thing first."

Willow stared expectantly at the man who set his piece of bacon down. He looked up at her with mischief in his eyes, and Willow already dreaded his words before he even spoke them. "Did ya get her legs to go behind her head or no?"

The entire table erupted with laughter, causing Willow's jaw to clench in vexation. She sharply stood up, causing the table to stop laughing and all look up at her. She wanted to curse at them and to rage at them. She hated whenever they disrespected her like that, and joking about the girl in such a vulgarly sexual way angered her so much she felt her fists ball at her sides.

She was about to erupt on the gang until she felt a soft hand grab at her fist. Looking down, she saw August staring up at her with a smoothness in her eyes that immediately jaded her formulating anger. Those pools of midnight blue had a tranquilizing quality in them that made Willow's inwardly flashing alarms turn into softly glowing lights in her chest.

She unclenched her fist and intertwined her fingers with August's, reveling in the softness and warmth of the girl's dainty hand gently clasping hers.

August peered up at the woman whose incandescent eyes gazed down at her affectionately, feeling her larger hand wrap around hers. She felt the rabbit in her chest thumping away, except it wasn't necessarily a fast-paced thump. It was a slow, resounding thump that manifested all her feelings for the tall woman in front of her.

"We are leaving, you table of unrefined fruitcakes," Willow announced, softly tugging on August's hand to silently instruct her to stand up, which the girl immediately did.

The table just whispered and laughed as Willow and August walked away and out of the dining room with their hands clasped together.

"Fruitcakes?" August mumbled with a smile and quirked eyebrow towards the woman as they made their way back to their hotel room.

♠

"I'm not comfortable with this," August told the woman, looking at her with both dread and plea.

"I want you to come tonight, August," Willow gently spoke as both her and August sat right next to each other on the couch. "Margaret is nice. Stop being a baby."

August just sighed, bringing her finger to her mouth and chewing on her nail.

Willow took notice, looking up from her magazine momentarily. "That's a disgusting habit."

"So would killing people be second on that list of disgusting habits?" August retorted, rolling her eyes and looking away. She continued to chew on her fingernail, ruminating over the anxiety she was feeling about the so-called ball. She didn't want to meet with Willow's stylist to get dressed and prettied up and then go to some Christmas dance with not only the gang she'd met at the hotel, but with about five other gangs in Utah as well. She didn't like the idea of being in such a huge social gathering and putting in so much effort to look nice enough for it.

A knock on the door interrupted August's rumination. Willow stood up, setting her magazine down on the couch and walking over to the door, the breeze of her passing by making August's hair move against her ears.

"Good evening, Margaret," Willow jovially greeted the woman.

August stood up and turned around to see Willow's stylist, Margaret, shaking the older woman's hand. Her blonde hair swiveled around her shoulders as she turned to the girl standing by the couch.

"You must be August! Oh my, you are very pretty," Margaret said in an amicable tone, gliding over to the girl and shaking her soft hand with a wide smile.

August watched her metallic blue eyes, a bit lighter than hers, look deep into her own and around her face and hair. "I already have so many wonderful ideas! I swear, honey, you are gonna be poppin' tonight!"

Softly smiling in return, August felt relief that the woman really was nice like Willow said she was. "I'm excited," she told her in return, nodding her head forwards politely.

Willow watched the two with her hands in her pockets, but her eyes mainly stayed on August, watching her from across the room and wondering how Margaret could possibly make her look even more attractive than she already did.

"Alright," Willow began, walking closer to where August and Margaret stood. "Margaret is gonna take you to a room downstairs where you will get ready, and I am having my chauffeur, Mark, drive you to where the ball is being held." She stepped closer to August, placing a soft hand around her waist and leaning her lips closer to her ear. She whispered, "I am putting a lot of trust in you. Please don't try anything stupid."

August felt her cheeks tinge at the woman whispering so close in her ear. She looked up at Willow as she pulled away and didn't see the stern stare she was expecting. She saw a pleading look in the woman's eyes, as if she were asking her to comply instead of demanding. August didn't even have thoughts of trying anything stupid. At this point, it was more because she didn't want to rather than that she would be unsuccessful if she did try anything.

Nodding in response, she felt her cheeks grow pinker when Willow placed a soft and fleeting kiss on her temple. She might have missed it if she hadn't had been staring up at the woman.

"Alright," Willow sighed, taking a few steps back and placing her hands in her pockets again. "Keep an eye on her, Margaret. She's a thorny one." She winked at August, a smirk growing on her lips.

August's cheeks were vividly red at this point. She gave Willow one last small smile, her deep cobalt eyes connecting with her flaring green ones, as Margaret opened the door for her, letting the girl walk through before walking through herself.

A slender hand ran through black hair nervously as the door slammed shut. She didn't like the feeling of August being so far away from her for so long. Instinctively, she nearly told herself some excuse for her feelings—like maybe it was because she found company in the girl in contrast to her usually lonely life, or maybe it was because she was afraid that while out of her vigilant sight the girl would try to run off. But she didn't tell herself any of those things this time. She just let the feelings sit in her stomach and simply missed the girl as she got herself ready for the ball.

♠

"Your hair is very soft," Margaret told August as she combed her fingers through her soft curls.

August stared at herself in the mirror as Margaret stood behind her inspecting her hair. She assumed that the room they were in was supposed to be some sort of dressing room, as there was a long table with chairs and mirrors lined with bright lightbulbs. Against the opposite wall behind her was racks and racks of clothes, going from the door all the way down to a bathroom door on the adjacent wall. She felt like she was a movie star getting ready for a big scene.

"Okay, we're gonna do your makeup first." Margaret took hold of August's chair and swirled her to the right so she was parallel to the table and facing the stylist. The girl took a deep breath, easing her nerves. She felt like she was out of place, being away from Willow. Spending every waking moment with somebody for nearly 6 days will do that to a person, she told herself. But she specifically missed her gentle kiss on her temple. She could still feel her soft, ample lips brushing against her skin. She shivered as Margaret took out primer and began her work.

♠

"Do you like this blue one?" Margaret asked her, holding up a short baby blue dress with ruffles. "It would complement your eyes!"

August inwardly shuddered. She never had an affinity for dressing up like Little Bo Peep, and she wouldn't start that night. "It's nice, but not really my type," she quietly said, not wanting to hurt the woman's feelings.

"You're right; I can tell you're more of a neutral person." Margaret smiled, putting the dress back on the rack and shuffling through some more dresses on a particular rack that seemed dedicated to that style of clothing.

August looked to her feet, resisting the urge to look over at her appearance in the lit mirrors. Margaret had told her to wait until she had a dress on before she could look at her finished hair and makeup. Her mind then wandered to what Willow would wear and what she was doing at that moment. Her thoughts were interrupted when Margaret gently gasped, her hands stopping on a particular dress that August could only see the black sleeve of.

"This." Margaret unhooked the hanger from the rack and held the dress up for August to see. "This is you."

It was a black A-line dress with lacy, see-through sleeves and a long skirt with black floral designs all along it, along with a few sparkles of glitter here and there. August had to say that it was probably the dress closest to her style out of the bunch.

"May I try it on to see if it fits?" August asked her.

"Of course, honey! You can try it on in the bathroom right over there, and just let me know if you need me to zip it up for you." Margaret clasped her hands together in excitement as she watched the girl walk into the bathroom and close the door.

After undressing and slipping into the dress that fit her perfectly, August walked out slowly.

Margaret looked like she was resisting the urge to jump up and down with joy. "Oh my goodness, girl. You look drop-dead stunning!"

August chuckled, looking down at the hem of the skirt that stopped a few inches below her knees. She was thankful that the material was soft and velvety as opposed to coarse like most dress skirts were. The middle of the dress fit tight around her waist, and it fit even tighter when Margaret zipped up the back.

When August exhaled a huff of breath as she pulled the zipper all the way up, Margaret laughed and told her, "Don't worry; it's supposed to be tight right there."

"Alright!" the stylist said as she came around to stand in front of August, adjusting a few strands of hair around her face, tucking some behind her ear and laying others flat. She then took a few steps back, taking in the full view of the girl who tried to not to look so awkward standing there. "Oh, honey," she said, putting her palms together and placing them over her mouth. "You look great!"

"Can I look now?" August asked, pointing towards the mirrors with her eyes still on the bubbly Margaret.

"Yes, of course!"

August took a deep breath and turned, walking closer to the mirrors as she saw herself. She looked like a different girl. She had never gone to her high school homecomings or proms, so she had never gotten the chance to dress up like she was right then. She let her fingers touch the velvet skirt, twisting her bottom half to the side to see her backside. She twisted back around and gave a small smile. She wasn't dissatisfied with her look, but she never liked looking like anything that would draw attention to herself. Her small smile was mostly for Margaret's sake.

Margaret came up behind her, placing her manicured hands on her shoulders. "You know, I have never seen Willow like that," she suddenly spoke in a quieter tone than she had all evening, as if she didn't want anyone to hear her.

August looked at her through the mirror. "Like what?"

Margaret held back a smile, just shaking her head. "Just know that you should feel special, sweetie." She combed back a stray piece of her hair which was curled even further and pinned it back on the left side. "And I'm sure Willow will have to pick her jaw back up off the floor when she sees you in this."

August suddenly grew nervous thinking about Willow seeing her all dressed up and fancy like this, with her bombshell eyelashes and matte red lips. She inwardly scolded herself for acting that way—staring at herself in the mirror with worry about if her abductor would think she looked pretty or not. She hated the way the word "abductor" took away all the characteristics and closeness she familiarized Willow with. After the events of the previous night, and that haunting kiss she left on her temple, August couldn't help but make sure the front of her dress was folded exactly right in case Willow noticed it.

"Don't forget these!" Margaret bent down and picked up a pair of black high heels.

August knew she had never walked in high heels before and what that meant for her uncoordinated self, but she was too nervous to kill Margaret's enthusiasm, so she slipped into the heels anyways, taking as few steps possible so Margaret wouldn't notice her wobbliness. The one thing August did like about heels was the extra height it gave her. Instead of being a minuscule 5'3", she was now a good 5'7".

"Mark is waiting outside," Margaret told her. "Again, August, you look so beautiful."

"Thank you so much, Margaret." She smiled warmly at the woman, slowly walking towards the door and trying to get used to the loud clicking sound her heels made on the hard floor.

She walked through the empty lobby, her heels echoing throughout the large room as she peered her head around for Willow, but not seeing her anywhere. She assumed that everyone must have already left for the ball.

Looking up at the stars in the night sky visible through the tall glass front of the lobby, August's eyes caught sight of a shooting star making its way through the atmosphere. She stopped, her last step echoing through the lobby before it faded away into a complete silence.

She stared up at the shooting star, gulping while thinking of a wish she had to hurry up and make before the shooting star would burn out.

"I wish..." she whispered, finishing the rest of her sentence in her head.

She wished for someone who she had a complicated relationship with. She wished for those green eyes to forever stay luminescent in her sight. She wished for those soft lips to always gently kiss her temple the way they did earlier that day. She wished for that raven black hair to always tickle her shoulder in her sleep. She wished for that cold, iced-over heart to continue to melt in her hands until it was warm and beating again. She wished for the strength to use everything in her to keep that heart continuously warming.

The shooting stardisappeared, and she stepped outside the hotel.