He drops my clothes on the counter, talking at me all the while in that infuriating drawl. I can feel myself getting angrier by the second. "Whether or not you're trying to, you have," I spit at him.

Giving up on propriety all together, I sweep the curtain aside and march over to him, crossing my arms and glaring up at him. "I'm already not just the pie girl, and if you can't see that, then you're blind and stupid as well as being an enormous ass." I don't make a habit of swearing, but really, he's being dreadful.

"That dress won't fit me, and both of us know it." I stop for breath, suddenly aware of how little I'm wearing. Well, I've gone this far. No sense in stopping now. "Stop being so damn stubborn and take my measurements if you have to. That's your job."