Between Two Lungs

Jordan helped Mae unload her artwork from the van he had rented to carry all of her pieces from New York City to Pittsburgh. She didn't know exactly how much she needed or how much space there would be at the gala, so she ended up bringing the thirty pieces that she had prepared for Gary's art show.

"Remind me again when the gala is," Mae panted as she lifted a pile of eight medium-sized canvases over to the front door of Jordan's apartment building.

"Next Friday," he replied, pulling out one of the five-foot ones.

"That means I have two weeks to find a dress."

Jordan poked his head from over top of the canvas. "Is that bad?"

Mae set down the pieces and exhaled shortly. "I don't know. I've never gone dress shopping before."

"Then that's bad," Jordan concluded. "Wait, I have an idea!"

Mae shot him a questioning look as she went to go fish out some of her framed drawings from inside the van. "And that would be...?"

"Marc-André Fleury's girlfriend, Veronique, knows a lot about fashion and junk," Jordan shrugged. "Maybe she could help you find something to wear."

"Ah, another female!" Mae exclaimed. "Sounds so much more promising than a group of sweaty hockey players."

Jordan wagged his finger at her. "I'll have you know that we clean up pretty well."

Mae smirked and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We'll see."

* * * * *

"Are you nervous for the gala?" Veronique asked Mae as they walked together through the Southside Works Mall. Mae shrugged her shoulders, feeling out of place among so many expensive looking stores.

"Not really for my artwork to be shown," she admitted. "More like terrified for having to dress up."

"You've never dressed up before?" Vero demanded, sounding completely shocked as her French accent weaved its way into her words. "This'll be like dressing up a Barbie!"

Mae looked down at her body. She was short, small, had medium-length dyed red hair and her clothes were covered in paint. "I fail to see the resemblance."

"Well you obviously don't look like her yet, silly," Vero chortled. "Give me a little time and I'll be able to transform you with no problems at all."

"Let's just get this dress thing over with," she groaned. Vero laughed and they continued walking.

Jordan had introduced Mae to Veronique the day before. Their budding friendship was a very quick one. Mae had never really had any female friends like Vero in her life before. She felt more like a mom than Delia ever did. Vero brought her to the mall, offered to buy her ice cream, and was about to help her pick out an outfit for her first gala event and art show. Delia was never even there to help Mae pick out a prom dress. She ended up not going, staying at home in her room and painting the entire evening.

"Let's go in here," Vero offered, pointing to a Jessica McClintock boutique. Mae huffed like a child as Vero dragged her inside, gaining a strange look from the girl behind the counter.

"What kind of dress did you buy?" Mae asked as Vero was busy shuffling through the racks to find something elegant and suitable.

Vero shrugged. "A long evening gown. It's a blue halter top dress with rhinestone edging. Marc-André has his blue tie to match. Do you know what colour Jordan is planning on wearing to the event?"

Mae blinked a few times. "I didn't realize that this was like a prom date and that we had to match."

Vero smirked. "And you say you're an artist."

"I am!" she whined. Vero ignored her childish complaints as she pulled an interesting looking gown from the rack on the wall.

"What size are you?"

Mae stared at her blankly. "I have no idea."

Vero held up the dress to Mae's body and gave an approving nod. "Looks like it'll fit. Go try this on," she commanded, thrusting the carefully composed pile of expensive black fabric in Mae's arms.

It took Mae a minute to get into it and zip it up on her own, but when she emerged from the dressing room, Vero couldn't help but smile.

"C'est parfait."

"I don't speak French," Mae clarified.

"It's perfect," Vero repeated. "Oh, that fits so well on you! Just so you know for future reference, you're a size six. Now look at yourself in the mirror and tell me that you aren't beautiful."

Mae turned awkwardly in the gown to face her own reflection. It was a stretch taffeta bustier dress with a square neck and asymmetrical ruched bodice that had a folded fabric pattern that came down on one side, with a long slim skirt and flared hem. The way the black fabric reflected the light made Mae's already bright red hair seem even more vibrant.

"I look like..." Mae said in a whisper-quiet tone, "...a woman."

"You're going to look perfect for the gala," Vero gushed. "I can't wait to see Jordan's face when he sees you in this dress. Don't even show him what it looks like on the hanger."

"Um, alright," Mae agreed, turning away from the mirror to go change back into her regular clothes. She reemerged, adorned once again in her jeans and sweater, holding her coat and the dress in her hands. "If my dress is black, won't it look tacky if Jordan wears a black tie?"

"Silly girl," Vero commented, flicking Mae's nose lightly with her thumb and middle finger. "Tell him to wear a red tie to match your hair."

"Oh, yeah," Mae noted, tugging on the ends of her fiery tresses. "I forgot about that."

"Et vous pensez que vous êtes une artiste," she scoffed jokingly, giving Mae a slight shove.

"Alright," Mae declared, pointing an accusing finger in Vero's direction, her eyes squinted. "I don't understand French, but I got the gist of that."

Vero just took the gown from Mae's arms and skipped merrily to the cashier.

* * * * *

Mae got back to Jordan's apartment with the gown carefully placed on a hanger inside a large zippered bag. Jordan was on the couch watching a hockey game when he turned and saw that Mae had returned. He'd given her a key temporarily so she could get in and out whenever she wanted.

"Did you find it?"

"I did," she declared, motioning to the hanger in her hand. "But you don't get to see what it looks like. Vero said specifically that you need to wear a red tie."

"Red tie," he repeated. "Got it."

Mae went to Jordan's second bedroom, which he used as a guest room, and hung the dress up in the closet to prevent it from getting wrinkled. As she closed the closet door, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her from behind.

"Jordan," she groaned when he started leading a trail of kisses up her neck. "I just got back from the most shopping I've ever done in my entire life. I'm tired."

"Are you really?" he teased, nipping down on her skin with his teeth.

She bit her lip and turned to face him. "You can't give me a hickey right before a gala where I have to wear a strapless dress. That's cheating."

Jordan smirked. "Try and stop me," he taunted.

Mae laughed and got up on the tips of her toes in order to kiss him. Then she grabbed him by the collar and pushed him down onto the bed.

"What's this all about?" he smirked as she straddled his waist, slowly unbuttoning the front of his shirt.

"If you don't want to play by the rules," she grinned, "then why should I?"