The Wardrobe Wager

The music was pounding. Craig had never been to a fashion show before, but judging by the noise coming from the other side of the curtain, he was fairly certain this wasn't what he'd imagined. Bass thudded through the warehouse floor. Lights flashed beneath the gap at the bottom of the curtain, sweeping back and forth in bright colours. Every so often, the audience erupted into a chant of his name.

Craig stood backstage in his pencil skirt, blouse, and heels, staring at the curtain as though it were the entrance to a firing squad.

"No way."

Euphrosyne looked up from one of the clothing racks.

"No way what?"

"No way am I going out there." Craig turned away from the curtain and marched deeper into the makeshift backstage area, his heels clicking sharply against the concrete. His hands curled into fists. "I'm not dressing up and parading myself around in front of my coworkers. It's humiliating."

Euphrosyne blinked.

"What's humiliating about showing off a little?" she asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Craig spun around.

"Showing off?"

"Yes!" The goddess gestured toward him as though presenting an obvious argument. "I mean, look at you! You're already doing it."

Craig looked down at himself.

"That's not my choice."

"Maybe not originally." Her smile widened. "But this just lets you do it with a soundtrack."

Craig groaned. There was no point arguing with her. She saw the world how she saw it, and nothing Craig could say seemed to make a dent in it.

He dropped into a small chair beside one of the clothing racks and rubbed both hands over his face. The backstage area was considerably larger than he'd expected. Clothing racks stretched in every direction, each one packed with garments. Dresses. Skirts. Blouses. Jackets. Shoes. Accessories. Outfits in every imaginable colour and style. There were enough clothes back here to outfit an entire department store. Craig stared at the nearest rack.

"How is this supposed to work?" he asked.

Euphrosyne wandered past, running her fingers lightly over the fabrics as she went.

"What do you mean?"

"There's one runway. One person walking it." He pointed at himself. "Me." Then toward the racks. "All of this." His hand swept helplessly across the room. "How exactly am I supposed to get through all those outfits?"

"Aren't they lovely?" Euphrosyne's smile became almost unbearably proud. "I picked them myself. Every single one."

"But why so many?" he pressed.

"Because I think you'll look fabulous in every one."

Craig looked around again.

"How many are there?"

"Enough."

"That's not a number."

"It's a very good number."

"Euphrosyne."

She giggled.

"Even if I agreed to this, which I'm definitely not, we'd be here for a week," Craig said, leaning back in the chair. "I don't think you understand how time works."

"As fun as that would be..." She practically sang as she walked over and gently booped him on the nose, "...my sisters would become jealous of all the time I'd be getting with you."

"Good," he said sulkily, as he rubbed his nose. "Maybe they'll come get you."

"No chance," Euphrosyne turned back toward the racks. "And besides, I understand time better than you do. My grandfather invented it, after all. We'll have everything finished in half an hour."

Craig laughed, staring at the racks of clothing. Maybe something was lost in translation, but it would take him more than thirty minutes to even put on some of these outfits.

"There's no way."

"Probably less."

"You're serious?"

"Completely."

Craig stared at her. There were plenty of things he didn't understand about Euphrosyne. He didn't know the limits of her abilities. He didn't know exactly what she could change or how much influence she had over the world around him. But there was no possible way one man could wear that many outfits in thirty minutes. Even if each outfit only took a minute. Even if he didn't stop to talk. Even if he somehow managed to change clothes at impossible speed. The mathematics simply didn't work.

Euphrosyne, meanwhile, looked entirely confident. Craig's suspicion slowly turned into something else.

Hope.

A very small, dangerous little spark of hope.

"Sounds like we should make a wager."

"Oh! That sounds like fun!" Euphrosyne turned toward him. "What do you propose?"

Craig glanced toward the curtain. Beyond it, his coworkers were cheering for him. He could hear music pulsing beneath the noise.

"If I can't wear every single outfit in this room in less than half an hour," he said, watching her eyes brighten, "you get Eros to leave me alone."

Euphrosyne's smile faded slightly.

"That's a rather ambitious prize."

"I want my old life back."

He forced himself to continue before she could interrupt.

"My job. My clothes. My apartment. Everything. I don't want to be a streamer. I don't want to spend my afternoons learning how to dance around a pole. I don't want to wear skirts and heels every day," his voice hardened. "I want to be boring old Craig again."

Euphrosyne studied him for several seconds.

"That seems reasonable," she said slowly. "Although foolish. But if I win..."

She walked closer, clasping her hands behind her back.

"...you come out with me tonight."

"Come out where?" Craig said with a frown.

"Not sure. Somewhere fun."

"Define fun."

"I'll decide when I win!" She giggled. "But it's anything I want. No being a stick-in-the-mud. We go out and we have fun."

"And I have to say yes?"

"Yes."

Craig considered the terms. If he won, Eros would reverse everything. If he lost, he had to spend one evening with Euphrosyne doing whatever she wanted. Compared with getting his entire life back, that was hardly a risk. It, after all, was an easy win. Craig almost felt sorry for her. The goddess had no idea how badly she'd just been outmatched.

"Deal."

He stood and extended his hand. Euphrosyne took it. The moment their palms met, a strange tingling sensation travelled through Craig's hand. It slipped up his wrist. Along his arm. Then climbed the back of his neck.

Craig stiffened.

Euphrosyne giggled.

"Given with a promise," she said as the tingling intensified. "Sealed with magic."

Craig looked down at their joined hands. A faint golden shimmer flickered between their fingers before disappearing into his skin. His stomach suddenly felt much less confident.

"That's..."

"Magic," she said as she released his hand. "Now, time's ticking, Craig. Let's get to work."

Craig swallowed.

"Okay."

Euphrosyne stepped backward.

Then she began moving her hands.

At first, the gestures seemed almost playful. Fingers traced circles through the air. Wrists turned gracefully. Her hands moved faster, drawing invisible patterns that seemed to linger for a fraction of a second before fading.

The air around them changed. Craig felt it before he saw anything. The temperature seemed to shift. The music beyond the curtain became strangely distant. The warehouse lights blurred. A peculiar pressure settled over his skin, as though the entire world had suddenly become slightly too close.

"Euphrosyne?"

She didn't answer. Her hands continued moving.

The clothing racks began to shimmer. Craig blinked. The garments seemed to ripple despite the complete absence of wind. Colours stretched and twisted. The edges of the room softened. His stomach lurched.

"Uh..."

The floor no longer felt completely solid beneath his heels. Craig grabbed the back of the chair.

"Euphrosyne?"

The goddess finally looked up. Her expression was bright with anticipation.

"Ready?"

"No."

Her smile took on an almost manic feel.

"Wonderful."

Craig's vision tilted. For one horrible moment, he had the distinct sensation that his entire body had been picked up, turned upside down and shaken. The racks of clothing blurred into streaks of colour.

The pounding music became distant. His stomach dropped. His fingers tightened around the chair.

Maybe the wager hadn't been such an easy win after all. The last coherent thought Craig managed to form was a simple one.

What the hell had he just agreed to?