I followed Amelia toward the back of the store where plush velvet chairs faced a row of fitting rooms with heavy curtains. Each booth was separated by wooden panels, creating private alcoves that felt more like luxury spa treatment rooms than typical changing stalls.
"Wait here," she commanded, and disappeared behind one of the curtains with my selections draped over her arm.
I sank into one of the chairs, trying to look casual and failing miserably. The room was oppressively quiet except for the soft sounds coming from behind the curtain—fabric sliding against skin, the gentle thump of her sundress hitting the bench, the delicate clink of a hanger.
My enhanced hearing picked up every sound with painful clarity. I could hear the subtle changes in her breathing as she changed, the rustle of fabric as it slid up her legs. My imagination filled in the visuals with vivid detail. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?" Amelia called from behind the curtain.
"Nothing," I replied, silently cursing her supernatural hearing.
"So," her voice floated out, casual as if we were discussing the weather, "what made you pick these particular suits?"
I cleared my throat. "Just seemed like they'd suit you."
"Mmm. And here I thought there might be some deeper analysis."
I could practically hear the smirk in her voice. She was enjoying my discomfort.
"Fine," I said, crossing my arms. "The black one is practical but striking. Like your combat style."
"Go on."
"The red one is bold, demanding attention. Like your personality."
A soft laugh. "And the purple?"
I hesitated. "It reminded me of your eyes."
The sounds of movement paused momentarily behind the curtain.
"Interesting," she finally said.
The curtain slid open with a soft swish. Amelia stepped out wearing the lavender two-piece I'd selected. The soft color contrasted beautifully with her skin, the wrapped design accentuating her figure without being overtly revealing. The fabric caught the light, shimmering subtly as she moved.
She turned slowly, giving me a full view. "Well?"
I took a breath, steadying myself. The hunger inside me surged—not just for her energy but for her. I pushed both desires down.
"It's beautiful," I said, keeping my voice even. "But it's not you."
Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh?"
"It's too soft. Too... gentle." I gestured vaguely. "It doesn't match your energy."
She studied me for a long moment, head tilted slightly. "Hmm." Without another word, she disappeared back behind the curtain.
I exhaled slowly, unaware I'd been holding my breath. My fingernails dug into my palms. The hunger was getting harder to ignore with each passing second in her presence.
The curtain opened again. This time she wore the black one-piece I'd selected. The strategic cutouts revealed glimpses of skin while maintaining an athletic elegance. It was sophisticated, powerful.
She posed with one hand on her hip. "And this one?"
I considered my answer carefully. "It's closer, but still not right."
"Explain."
"It's too reserved," I said.
She nodded once and returned to the fitting room.
My heart hammered in my chest. What was I doing? Criticizing her choices? Analyzing her like she was a character in a book? Yet something told me honesty was the only approach she would respect.
The third time the curtain opened, I forgot how to breathe.
Amelia stood before me in the crimson bikini. The deep red fabric contrasted dramatically with her pink hair, the gold accents catching the light like her eyes when she used her power. The suit revealed more than it concealed, showcasing every curve with unapologetic confidence.
She took a step forward, then another. Her eyes never left mine, searching for any crack in my composure.
"And this one, Isaiah?"
The hunger roared inside me, a beast straining against its chains. My vision sharpened, and I knew my eyes were glowing blue. I could see the heat radiating from her body, could feel the pulse of her immense demonic energy washing over me in waves.
I didn't look away. Instead, I let a slow, confident smile spread across my face.
"That one," I said, my voice dropping lower than I intended, "is a declaration of war."
For a split second, Amelia's perfect composure slipped. Her eyes widened fractionally, and then—to my complete shock—she laughed. Not her usual calculated chuckle or amused smirk, but a genuine, surprised laugh that transformed her face entirely.
"A declaration of war," she repeated, her eyes sparkling with genuine amusement. "That's... unexpected."
"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?" I asked, echoing her earlier question.
"Just unexpected." She studied me with new interest. "You keep surprising me, Isaiah Angelo."
"I try."
She returned to the fitting room, leaving me to collapse back into my chair. My hands were shaking, I realized. I'd been clenching my fists so tightly that my knuckles had turned white, the half-moon indentations of my nails marking my palms.
Amelia emerged a few minutes later, back in her pink sundress, all three swimsuits draped over her arm.
"I'll take all three," she told the saleswoman who materialized at her side.
"All three?" I asked as the woman whisked the suits away to the register. "Even though two of them weren't right?"
"Sometimes," Amelia said cryptically, "being wrong in an interesting way is more valuable than being right in a boring one."
As we waited for her purchases to be wrapped, she turned to me. "You passed," she said, her voice softer than usual, her customary smirk absent. "With flying colors."
"What exactly was the test?"
"Several things at once." She accepted the elegantly wrapped package from the saleswoman. "Your taste, your honesty, your control."
"And if I'd failed?"
"You wouldn't be standing here having this conversation." Her tone made it clear the subject was closed.
We walked out of the store into the bustling mall. The crowds seemed less overwhelming now, or maybe I was getting better at filtering the sensory input.
"Now," Amelia announced, her playful demeanor returning, "for the real reward."
"Which is?"
"Ice cream." Her eyes glittered with a new kind of light. "There's a place here that makes it with liquid nitrogen. The texture is unbelievable."
I blinked at the abrupt shift. "Ice cream. After all that, your grand reward is ice cream?"
"What were you expecting?" she asked innocently, though her knowing smile suggested she knew exactly what I'd been thinking.
"Nothing," I mumbled. "Ice cream is great."