His Fake Fiancee
A stall door swings open with a clang, unveiling a dress almost too
large for the space, worn by a woman with a mean expression... and auburn hair.
Priscella.
"It means you're bad social cred," she sings, shooting me a look that could positively kill me where I stand.
My eyes roll. "You again?"
"Didn't I tell you, girls?" She ignores me, purposely going to the sink right next to me. But I don't move an inch. "It's bad for your reputation to be spotted with a gold-digger."