Emily POV
Nathan on the other hand walks over to us and pretends to analyze the sketch of the dress I had on, with the skirt still untidy and needles stuck through the entire length of the fabric.
"It's going to be a pretty dress" She assures, finishing the last of her shake by rattling the straw "You are pretty."
The pygmy of the fabrics doesn't even give me time to smile at this flattery and boldly interjects with a dismissive: "My dress is prettier."
"My dress is prettier."
"I'm going to be the one to wear your dress Elijah, I make this dress prettier," I say frustrated by the hustle and bustle and I feel a slight pinch on my arm, just above the sleeve that he was already adjusting: "Elijah!"
"Don't be a hysterical girl."
I look to Nathan for support, but he just laughs at us. He murmurs an "I'll wait for you" and after nodding, he turns around and sits down on a small stool against one of the walls, pulls his phone out of his pants, and becomes engrossed in it.
