I'm being paid to hang out with you

                                    

                                          
Dedicated to everyone who kept their comments spoiler-free. 
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"I...can't...breathe!" I gasped as I clutched at my stomach, sucking in as much air the cursed dress would allow. Holy mother of dragons, did this thing come with a corset from the seventeenth century corset because I couldn't freaking breathe. 
Logan and Jasper stood by my side, both of them eyeing me with equal looks of alarm and concern. Sadly, they had no power to do anything because my mother was in charge--and no one went up against my mother. 
My mother gave me a once over and muttered something to the attendant. The girl with the black curtain bangs nodded and walked away to repeat whatever my mother had said to the manager. My mother turned to me and made a noise in the back of her throat. 
"Park, stand up straight," she snapped. "What kind of princess can't handle a dress?"
"What kind of dress is built to suffocate girls?" I panted. 
"You're the princess of Cimeria," my mother countered. "A dress should be nothing. Especially for a girl who almost got kidnapped."
"I disagree!" my father, who was lounging on the white sofas of the store, protested. "Wearing a dress is hard! I opt she wears a blazer over one of her nicer blouses and pull her hair back. Bam, princess material right there."
My mother had the most exasperated look as she turned to her husband. "William," my mother frowned, "you're not being helpful. She has to be presentable at the Whitepine wedding."
"Have you seen her in a blazer, though?" Jasper piped up. "She looks pretty fantastic and not like she's about to suffocate to death." 
"Giselle, love," my father continued, getting off the sofa to come stand by my mother. "I'm bored. Stop being so picky so we can all go about our day."
"Uncle's right," Jasper nodded. "It's just a wedding, not a coronation."
At this point, I was leaning on Logan's shoulder, inhaling and exhaling as though I had just finished some 20k marathon in the middle of July. 
My mother pursed her lips and gave me another once-over. I could hear the gears in her head whir and grind against each other as she took in the details of the dress. Oh, dear gods, please don't let her pick this dress. 
"Logan, what color does Park look good in?" my mother suddenly inquired, turning to my bodyguard. Logan seemed startled by her question, and he shot me a quick look. I could only respond with a rattling breath and worry flitted across his face. 
"Gold?" Logan suggested half-heartedly. Luckily enough, my mother brightened at his words and I knew that I would be getting out of this stupid dress. 
"That's brilliant! The color of your eyes and her outfit would coordinate so well! Oh, why didn't I think of that?" She was dashing towards the manager while Logan gave a feeble noise to argue her conclusion, but it was no use. 
"Think positively," Jasper snickered, "at least you know you definitely won't be wearing this dress."
My father gave me a pitying look. "Sweetheart, you can go change. You're beginning to look like a corpse."
Oh, thank the stars, I thought in relief as I bundled up the skirts of the powder blue dress my mother had forced me to don and waddled away towards the changing room. What had possessed her into thinking that resembling a walking stick of blue cotton candy was "fitting" for a wedding?
It was a struggle to wriggle my body out of the stupid dress, taking me ten minutes to finally be free of the python-tight grip it hard around my torso. I sat on the floor for a good amount of time, feeling exhausted by that battle I just had, and it was a while before I changed back into my black tights, my forest green button up, and my favorite pair of scruffy ankle boots.