Addiction

Chapter 1-2

“OH MY GOD, MOM. YOU look...you look...”

“Amazeballs, right?” Marla suggested. “She looks fantabulous, fabtastic and entirely edible, if I do say so myself.” She leaned against the island in the kitchen with a soft and gooey smile, her eyes twinkling in happiness. “Harry is gonna die!”

Her mother stood before her, nervously swigging from the neck of the champagne bottle, draining the remaining few drops. “Are you sure the pins aren't too much?”

Sophie clasped her mom's hands to stop her fidgeting with her hair. “It's perfect, Mom. I mean it. You look like a queen.”

“Sweetheart,” her mother whispered, pulling her in for a hug. Before she could wrap her arms around her mother, Marla erupted with a screech.

“No! No hugging. No touching. No ruining your look!”

“Alright, alright,” Marie relented with a rueful smirk. She smoothed the material of her dress, and took her satin shoes from their box, stepping into them and gaining a couple of inches in height.

Sophie took after her mom as far as height went – both of them were lucky to reach 5'7” with heels, and today, Sophie's heels were much taller than her mom's modest kitten-heeled shoes, giving her a good two inches' advantage.

She stood back and took in the full picture of her mother once more. The dress emphasized her small waist and brought attention to her generous chest without being trashy. It fell in a soft cascade of satin to the floor, where the small train extended a couple of feet. On her head sat a tiny tiara, encrusted with diamonds. Here and there the diamond pins glinted and winked, and her neck was decorated with Gran's small strand of pearls. The only other bling her mom wore was the solitaire diamond on her finger, which Harry had to have worked his tush off to buy.

“Marla's right,” she told her, tapping the toe of one shoe. “You do look amazeballs.”

Her mom affected an attitude much like her zany friend and c****d a hip. “I know, right?”

Giggles accompanied Sophie the whole way back up the stairs to fetch her forgotten clutch bag. She took a moment to assess herself in the large mirror on the hall-way wall. The deep red of her gown cinched her waist tight and showed off her own sizable chest, the creamy slopes peeking over the low neckline as if to say, 'here we are. And you thought we'd never grow in'.

Her legs were entirely encased in the chiffon material, only the toes of her nude colored sling backs peeking out from underneath. Her arms were bare, and even though her mom had asked her to wear the matching chiffon wrap, that was the only thing Sophie had refused to even contemplate, maintaining that wraps were old-fashioned and grandmotherly. After much discussion, her mother had capitulated the point and asked her to bring a coat instead. In case it got chilly, she'd explained. But what could her mom do if she conveniently forgot it?

Sophie leaned in closer, gazing in amazement at the job Marla had done on her make-up. I look so grown up, she thought, taking stock of the sweep of eyeliner, the curve of her cupid's bow as she pursed her lips and the bat of her lashes as she winked at her reflection.

“Soph!” Marla's shriek echoed up the stairs. “Move, girl. The car is on the way.”

“Coming,” she called back, blowing herself a kiss in the mirror, feeling the buzz from the champagne settle in her stomach. Today really would be epic.

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