“I look like a priest.”

“A hot priest,” Morgan corrects me from over my shoulder. She reaches around me and adjusts the collar of my black shirt. That I’m wearing under my black blazer. With my black slacks. And black shoes. “You could at least undo a button or two.”

“No way,” I protest. My hand shoots up to guard the top buttons of my shirt. “Can’t I just borrow something of yours?”

She laughs and starts messing with my hair. “Um, no offense, but…” she says, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “I don’t think any of my stuff will fit you. Also, I’m not sure if you noticed but I am a girl…”

I scoff and push her hands away from my head. “Guys can wear dresses too,” I tell her, feigning offense. “Jeez, Morgan, get with the program.”

Her dark eyes widen and she takes a step back. “Okay,” she says, a challenging smirk on her face. “So what I’m hearing is you want me to get you a dress to wear to your audition?” She takes a few slow steps towards the door, not breaking eye contact with me. 

“I mean,” I start, not sure how I got myself backed into this corner.

“Because I can go get you a dress, Jay.” She leans thoughtfully against the doorframe for a minute. “But then the Juilliard people might be so distracted by your amazing calves that they can’t focus on your playing.”

I don’t have a response for that.

Morgan takes my silence as the go-ahead, and bolts down the hallway while shouting “I have the perfect one in mind!”

I have no idea how Morgan is able to talk me into the knee-length navy blue dress, but she does. And I’m back in front of the mirror, staring at my now-exposed legs and arms and shoulders while she zips me into it.

“Your legs do look pretty great, dude,” she says, bending down to pinch the excess fabric of the skirt around my waist. “We can pin this in the back so it fits a little better. What do you think?”

I don’t say anything at first. For some reason, now I’m more focused on the fact that I should’ve gotten a haircut for the audition.

“Much better than a priest?” she asks hopefully. “This’ll look really cute with those loafers you wore to Yael’s wedding.”

I consider my reflection. Still too skinny. Still tired-looking. But, better somehow.

“I…don’t hate it?” It comes out like a question without my meaning to.

She squeals with excitement and leaps to her feet. “Let me go get a safety pin!” She pauses on her way back out into the hall, though. “I see that look, Jay. Don’t second-guess it. You look great. Seriously. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

I laugh as she disappears. “You have,” I call after her. “Many times.”

But this doesn’t feel like one of them.