A Prom Princess is Born (4/7)

Greg sat stiffly at the dining table, barely looking up as Melissa chatted casually with Sarah. He focused on his plate instead, eating quickly, hoping he could slip away before either of them decided to drag him into the conversation. The silky shorts brushing against his thighs, the painted nails wrapped around his fork, the loose crop top that barely hid the shape of his bra—it was impossible to pretend things were normal. He just had to finish, get upstairs, and—

"You know," Sarah said suddenly, setting down her glass, "you really need a wardrobe of your own, Gabriella. You can’t keep wearing Melissa’s hand-me-downs forever."

Greg nearly choked, his fork clattering onto the plate. "Isn’t that a bit much? I mean, this is just temporary, right, Sarah?" His voice came out too sharp, too frantic, and Sarah's expression didn’t shift an inch.

Her fingers tapped lightly against her glass. "Gabriella," she corrected, her tone calm but firm. "Try that again, using the voice we practiced."

Greg felt the weight of both women’s stares, his cheeks burning as he clenched his fists in his lap. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to soften his tone, to relax his words into something sweeter, more delicate. "I-I just mean… isn’t that a bit much, Mom?"

Sarah smiled, pleased. "If it turns out we don’t need them later, we can always donate them." With that, she stood up, grabbing her purse as if the matter had already been settled.

The trip to the mall was an experience Greg would have rather avoided, but Sarah seemed to be enjoying herself far too much to be stopped. She led Gabriella and Melissa through boutique after boutique, treating Greg less like a reluctant participant and more like an eager daughter on her first shopping spree. Every purchase came with a comment about how cute Gabriella looked or how perfect something would be on her. A pile of dresses, skirts, jeans, and blouses quickly grew, each item undeniably feminine—soft pastels, delicate lace, stylish cuts that accentuated a shape Greg didn’t even have but somehow still fit seamlessly.

At some point, Sarah pulled another dress from the rack, a pale blush one with a high neckline and an open-back design that left his shoulders and sides exposed. The smooth fabric flared out into a short, flowing skirt, light and elegant with every step. It was too much, but her approving nod meant there was no arguing. The strappy nude heels sealed his fate, their four-inch height forcing each step into careful, practiced grace. Gabriella stared back from the mirror, delicate and undeniably feminine, and before he could even think about changing, Sarah had already decided he’d be wearing it out.

The final stop was the salon. By then, Greg had given up fighting, his protests ignored as Sarah took control, guiding every step of his transformation. His nails were shaped and coated in a glossy nude polish, his brows neatly groomed into a soft, feminine arch. His hair was straightened and pulled into a sleek, elegant updo, with a few loose strands framing his face. The makeup was more defined this time—subtle but polished. A light contour sharpened his features, a soft pink blush warmed his cheeks, and a glossy nude lipstick gave his lips a fuller, delicate look. By the time they left, he looked every bit the refined young woman Sarah expected him to be.

Sarah didn’t even look at him as she pulled up to a restaurant. "Of course. You need to look your best for your date tonight with Ryan."

Greg’s stomach dropped. "Date?!"

Sarah put the car in park, giving him a knowing smile. "Oh, sweetheart, you’ve been moping around for days. What better way to cheer you up than sending you off with your little boy toy? I’m sure he’s been dying to get his hands on you again."

Greg barely had time to stammer out a protest before Sarah was already unlocking the doors. "Now be a good girl," she said, nodding toward Ryan waiting by the entrance. "I’ll be back to pick you up in three hours."

Ryan’s face lit up as Gabriella approached, his eyes sweeping over her dress, her hair, the way she hesitated in her heels. "Wow," he said with a grin. "You look beautiful." She forced a polite smile as he offered his arm, hesitating for only a second before slipping her hand through it. His touch was warm, firm, making her skin prickle with discomfort, but there was no escaping it now.

Dinner passed in a blur. Ryan was effortlessly charming, steering the conversation with confidence while Gabriella played along, smiling when expected, nodding at the right moments, offering small, careful laughs that felt far too natural. The worst part wasn’t his easy confidence, his lingering glances, or even the way he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. It was how easy it was to let him.

Before she realized it, they were outside again, standing beneath the glow of the restaurant lights. The cool night air did nothing to steady her racing thoughts as Ryan stepped closer, his gaze warm, expectant. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close with an effortless strength that made her feel small, delicate, protected. Then his lips met hers.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, each second stretching longer than it should have. Gabriella felt herself melt against him, the warmth of his embrace overwhelming, his firm hands holding her in place like she belonged there. A soft, breathy sigh escaped before she could stop it, her fingers curling lightly against his chest.

And then it hit her.

Her breath caught as humiliation crashed through her chest, drowning out the light, dizzying feeling that had threatened to take hold. She was standing there, pressed against him in heels and a tiny dress, letting him kiss her like she belonged in his arms. Her glossy lips had parted for him without a thought, her manicured fingers had sought him for balance, for support—like she wanted this.

She needed Mom to let her be Greg again, before she lost herself in this, before Gabriella felt too natural.