Repressed.

For Tonight

Elsa arrived twenty-eight minutes later.

Eloise opened the door before she had the chance to knock.

“You're early.”

Elsa looked at her watch.

“By two minutes.”

“I said thirty.”

“Yes, and apparently I have made the unforgivable mistake of being efficient.”

Eloise caught her by the wrist and pulled her inside.

“Come in before I change my mind.”

“That bad?”

“No.”

“That good?”

“I don't know.”

Elsa stopped in the hallway and looked at her properly.

Eloise had changed after their call. She wore a simple floral dress she already owned, soft and fitted at the waist, with her hair loose around her shoulders. Her makeup was still the same look she had practised after class.

Nothing dramatic.

Enough to make Elsa stare.

Eloise immediately became suspicious.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're looking at me.”

“I often look at people while speaking to them.”

“You're doing the face.”

“What face?”

“The one where you're about to say something annoying.”

Elsa smiled.

“There she is.”

Eloise groaned.

“Oh, don't start.”

“I haven't said anything.”

“You've been here thirty seconds.”

“And already you've accused me of several crimes.”

“Because I know you.”

Elsa stepped closer and took in the makeup again.

“This is good.”

Eloise looked down.

“It's all right.”

“No. It's good.”

The compliment landed more deeply than it should have.

Perhaps because Elsa wasn't saying she looked completely different.

She wasn't saying she had finally become attractive.

She was simply noticing the work.

Eloise smiled.

“Thank you.”

Elsa's expression softened.

Then, predictably, she ruined the moment.

“You're not wearing that tonight.”

Eloise looked down at her dress.

“What's wrong with it?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why can't I wear it?”

“Because you look like you're going to a very nice lunch.”

“I like lunch.”

“I know you do.”

“I could have an evening lunch.”

“You mean dinner.”

Eloise stared at her.

Elsa stared back.

Then she pointed towards the bedroom.

“Wardrobe.”

“No.”

“Wardrobe.”

“I am perfectly capable of dressing myself.”

“You called me.”

“I called you to go out.”

“You knew what that involved.”

“I made dinner.”

“And I'm very grateful. Wardrobe.”

Eloise folded her arms.

Elsa simply waited.

Five minutes later, they were standing inside Eloise's walk-in wardrobe.

“This is absurd,” Elsa said.

“What?”

“You own all of this and dress like someone who has misplaced half her personality.”

“That is extremely rude.”

“Accurate, though.”

“No.”

Elsa pushed through several dresses.

Eloise sat on the small bench near the centre and watched with growing concern.

“You're enjoying this too much.”

“I have waited years for unrestricted access.”

“You've been in here before.”

“Not with permission.”

“You never had permission.”

“That has never stopped me.”

Eloise laughed.

Then Elsa stopped.

“Oh.”

Eloise didn't like the sound of that.

“What?”

Elsa pulled out a black dress.

Eloise recognised it immediately.

“No.”

“You haven't even tried it.”

“I don't need to.”

It was one of those purchases Eloise had made because she had loved it on sight and then never found the courage to wear.

Black tulle softened the skirt. The neckline was lower than anything she normally chose for herself, elegant rather than vulgar, but still revealing enough to make her conscious of her figure.

Elsa held it against her.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You bought it.”

“That was optimism.”

“That was taste.”

“I can't wear that.”

“Why?”

Eloise hesitated.

There were several answers available.

Too low.

Too fitted.

Too noticeable.

Too much.

All of them meant roughly the same thing.

Because people will look at me.

Elsa seemed to understand without being told.

Her voice changed.

“Try it.”

Eloise looked at the dress.

“Sal.”

“I'm not telling you that you have to wear it. Just try it.”

That was fair.

Annoyingly fair.

Eloise took it from her.

“Fine.”

“And the red heels.”

“Absolutely not.”

“The red heels.”

“I'm beginning to regret inviting you.”

“No, you're not.”

Eloise disappeared into the bathroom.

Several minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror.

Then did nothing.

The dress fit.

That was the problem.

It fit very well.

The waist drew in neatly, while the skirt softened over her hips. The neckline showed more of her chest than she was used to, though not enough to make the dress indecent. The red heels gave the whole thing a sharpness she hadn't expected.

She looked...

Eloise frowned.

Not transformed.

That word had begun to irritate her.

She simply looked like a woman wearing a dress she had always been too nervous to wear.

There was something almost disappointing about how ordinary the revelation was.

She opened the bathroom door.

Elsa turned.

Her eyebrows rose.

Eloise immediately pointed at her.

“Don't.”

“I haven't said anything.”

“Your face has.”

“My face is impressed.”

Eloise walked into the room and stood awkwardly.

“Well?”

Elsa looked her over again.

“You look beautiful.”

Eloise glanced at the mirror.

The old instinct arrived.

No, I don't.

She caught it before it reached her mouth.

Instead, she said, “Thank you.”

Elsa smiled.

That felt like a small victory.

Then Eloise adjusted the neckline.

“I feel like everyone can see me.”

“Yes.”

“That was not reassuring.”

Elsa laughed.

“You're wearing a dress, Elle. Not committing a crime.”

“You don't know my mother.”

The joke escaped before Eloise could think about it.

For a second, both of them went quiet.

Then Elsa gave her a look.

Eloise sighed.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“I don't want tonight to become that.”

“Then it won't.”

Simple.

No speech.

No analysis.

Eloise appreciated her for that.

Elsa held out a pair of earrings from the jewellery tray.

“Wear these.”

Eloise recognised them as one of her own Panoply designs.

Long, clean lines with dark stones set beneath smaller pale ones. Elegant enough for evening, but not delicate.

She took them.

“These?”

“They work with the dress.”

“They're a little dramatic.”

“So is the neckline.”

“Sal.”

Elsa grinned.

Half an hour later, they were eating quickly at Eloise's kitchen table.

Elsa had chosen the jazz lounge before arriving.

Of course she had.

“You planned this.”

“I had options.”

“You had one option.”

“I had three.”

“And all of them involved alcohol.”

“One involved live music.”

“With alcohol.”

“That's London.”

Eloise laughed.

By the time they left, the nerves had returned.

Not enough to make her stay home.

Enough to make her notice.

Elsa insisted they take a cab.

“You're not driving.”

“I wasn't planning to drink that much.”

“You're not driving.”

“Why do I bother speaking?”

“For texture.”

The journey passed too quickly.

When the cab stopped outside the lounge, Eloise looked through the window.

People moved beneath warm lights beyond the entrance, dressed for an evening out.

For one brief moment, she wanted to tell the driver to continue.

Elsa must have seen it.

“Elle.”

“I know.”

“You don't have to prove anything.”

“I know.”

“We can leave whenever you want.”

Eloise looked at her.

That helped.

She nodded.

“Let's go.”

Inside, the room was warm and low-lit, with burgundy seating, dark wood and small pools of amber light across the tables. A band played near the far end of the room, something light and familiar enough that Eloise almost recognised it.

Conversation moved beneath the music.

Glasses caught the light.

People looked comfortable here.

That was the first thing Eloise noticed.

The second was that she suddenly became aware of every inch of her dress.

Elsa guided her towards an empty booth.

Eloise sat down.

“You all right?”

“Yes.”

“That sounded convincing.”

“I am.”

She looked around again.

“I've wanted to come somewhere like this for ages.”

Elsa blinked.

“Then why haven't you?”

Eloise considered it.

“I don't know.”

That wasn't entirely true.

She knew.

She had simply spent too long waiting to become the sort of woman who went to places like this.

Whatever that meant.

Elsa leaned back.

“Well, now you're here.”

Eloise smiled.

“Yes.”

A server brought menus.

Elsa looked at hers.

“Right. Drinks.”

“You're very focused.”

“I have objectives.”

“That concerns me.”

“One of us has to be organised.”

Eloise laughed and looked towards the bar.

That was when she saw him.

The man sat several seats away from the centre, one hand resting near a glass of whisky.

Dark blond hair.

Dark suit.

Long frame.

He wasn't smiling.

He wasn't doing much of anything, really.

Yet somehow her attention stopped there.

Eloise looked away.

Then, against her better judgement, looked back.

Still there.

Of course he was still there.

He wasn't a hallucination.

“Don't look,” she whispered.

Elsa immediately began turning her head.

Eloise caught her arm.

“I said don't look.”

“Then how am I supposed to know what I'm not looking at?”

“The man at the bar.”

“That narrows it down beautifully.”

“Dark suit. Blond hair.”

Elsa glanced discreetly this time.

“Oh.”

Eloise looked at her.

“What does ‘oh’ mean?”

“It means I understand why you've forgotten how to blink.”

“I have not.”

“You absolutely have.”

Eloise picked up the drinks menu.

“He's very handsome.”

“Yes.”

“Too handsome.”

Elsa frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“It means leave him alone.”

“That is not how handsome works.”

A woman approached him.

Eloise saw her before she could stop herself.

Tall. Polished. Confident.

Exactly the sort of woman who looked as though she belonged in a room like this without ever questioning it.

She leaned towards the man at the bar.

He said something.

The woman smiled.

Then, less than a minute later, she walked away.

Elsa slowly turned back to Eloise.

“Well.”

Eloise stared at her menu.

“No.”

“I haven't said anything.”

“I know that face.”

“What face?”

“The nation-conquering face.”

Elsa smiled.

“Go talk to him.”

Eloise nearly dropped the menu.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Did you not just see what happened?”

“Yes.”

“To her?”

“Yes.”

Eloise gestured towards the departing woman.

“Look at her.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And she's lovely.”

“Exactly.”

Elsa leaned forward.

“What does that have to do with you?”

Eloise opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Elsa smiled slowly.

“No.”

“No what?”

“You don't get to do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Decide what another person thinks of you before they've even met you.”

Eloise looked back towards the bar.

The man lifted his glass.

Then his gaze shifted.

Straight towards her.

Eloise froze.

He held her eyes for perhaps two seconds.

Maybe three.

Long enough.

Then she looked away.

Her pulse had suddenly become very interested in the situation.

Elsa noticed.

“Oh, this is excellent.”

“Stop.”

“I have a proposal.”

“That sentence has never ended well.”

“If you go over there and he rejects you, I'll buy you dinner.”

“You already buy me dinner.”

“Not ordinary dinner.”

Eloise narrowed her eyes.

Elsa named the restaurant.

Eloise stared at her.

“You're lying.”

“I'm not.”

“You can't just casually promise me Alain Ducasse.”

“I can.”

“Do you know how difficult it is to get a table?”

“I'll manage.”

Eloise glanced towards the bar.

Then back at Elsa.

“You're bribing me with Michelin stars.”

“I know my audience.”

Eloise considered this with far more seriousness than the matter deserved.

Then she picked up her drink.

“If he rejects me, I want the full tasting menu.”

Elsa grinned.

“Done.”

Eloise took a sip.

For the first time that evening, the nerves began to feel a little less like fear.

And a little more like anticipation.