The neon signs buzzed overhead like mosquitos in the summer wind, faint and invisible, lingering just by the ear. Every three shops or so one cursive display would flicker on and off.

Daisy’s Donuts.
Daisy’s nuts.

The cherry lollipop melting against her tongue shifted from one side of to the other.

Ben’s Baked Goods.
Ben’s Baked.

Her stilettos clacked against the sidewalk with each stride. Heel first. Clack. Followed by toe. Very elegant. The leg must come out straight upon contact with the floor. Like the models. Her hips swayed the pleats of her skirt.

Floral Arrangements.
Oral Agents.

Two blocks down, her legs grew sore. No one was around anyways. The determined collision of her heels with the cement died down to a dragging step. She the juices of the lollipop, letting its round shape suction out of her lips. Pop.

It was only by chance she happen to glance at the window. It wasn’t as if she looked into every reflective surface she walked by. Some people really were so insecure.

Usually, the displays didn’t have faces. Usually, she didn’t even bother to look at the actual displays beyond the reflection of her eyes. 
Her long legs came to a halt, the skirt swaying about for a moment before falling delicately about her thighs. The boy’s eyes gleamed with life, perhaps not quite human, but not inhuman either. She was reminded of  those wax figures so popular in New York City. She’d have to make a trip there one day if they resembled this. She wondered how she would look in wax. Would it be prettier? Wax gets oilier, though.

He was as tall and perfectly proportionate as any mannequin. Likely a size extra small, despite his broad shoulders and athletic calves. He must have been one of those sporty models—the ones with abs and biceps on top of their teeny tiny waists and massively broad chests to make the association between fitness and whatever clothes they happen to be dressed in at the time.

Currently, those chiseled pectorals were hidden behind several layers of clothing. A red sports sweater and navy ski jacket. Loose water resistant black sweatpants with the tube socks pulled up against the jogger bottoms like breeches and black sneakers. His tousled brown locks were held at bay by a red sweatband, revealing the glassy doll eyes smiling out into the street. His lips curved up just slightly, secretly, as if stifling a laugh. She peered into his expression, her own eyes narrowed.

The neon sign beside the window buzzed lowly, shining in fuchsia. 
Eternal Boutique
Eternal Boutique.

Her fingers reached up to pull the lollipop out by the stick. Pop. 
Lips puckered in thought, she leaned forward. 
Glinting chocolate brown eyes, sweeter than the cherry flavor on her tongue. 
She shivered, then shrugged. Swanky places like these always had those otherworldly feelings about them, never for any otherworldly reason. And besides, no one was around anyways. At least the wind hadn’t swept her hair into a nest. 
She placed the lollipop back in , one leg straight out, heel read to strike the ground as she glanced once more at the window, her red lips pouting back. One heel stepped down. Clack.

“Looks good.”

She turned sharply, glaring left and right. Chocolate eyes sweeter than the cool air breezing against her skin glinted from her peripheral.

“The lollipop, sweetheart.”

Those mischievous lips curled into a Cheshire smile, head tilting to the side. The soft echo of smooth jazz hummed from within the boutique. These swanky places never turned off the music. They liked to create that atmosphere, even in passing, even when you couldn’t buy anything at the moment. They wanted you to know what you were missing out on, no matter what. 24/7. True dedication. Talk about customer service.

“Cherry, huh?” he spoke lightly, “Cherry like your lipstick.”

“What’s it to you?” she arched a brow, one hand on her hip. Good, just like that. Show attitude.

“Nothing.” He shrugged, “Just looks nice is all.”

She scoffed. Of course she looked nice. Feign disinterest.

“Mind if I have a ?” his devilish smile stretched into a grin, “Of the lollipop, of course. Not your lips.”

“What are you?” she narrowed her gaze, “Some kind of ert?”

“Just looks enticing is all, sweetheart.” He bit his lip, eyes sparkling beneath the spotlights. Chocolate eyes sweeter than the fruity fragrance dancing along her collarbones.

She pressed her lips together, eyeing the boy up and down before shrugging, “Well, it’s too bad, you’re gonna have to get your own. Besides I couldn’t give it to you even if I wanted to.”

“Why’s that?” he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his joggers, head tilted up just slightly so his lashes cast shadows upon the brown of his irises. Chocolate eyes sweeter than the candy apple red lacquer on her manicured nails.

“Look at yourself,” she gestured towards the display, “You’re in a glass box. How am I supposed to get in there?”

“You don’t even wanna give me a taste?” he pouted petulantly.

“You’re a real , you know that?” she flipped her hair over one shoulder, absolutely not with the intention of flashing her shoulder. Really, some people were so erted. Who knew a plastic thing could be so lewd.

“You seem to like it, sweetheart.” He winked, now sitting cross-legged on the floor of the display window. His arms stretched out behind him, propping him up. “Or is that playing hard to get?”

“Hard to get?” she laughed, “As if you even stand a chance.”

The model twitched as if in pain, one hand coming up to clutch his chest. A wry smile curled his lips. “Such a sharp tongue.”

She scoffed, the red orb of candy.

“Come on, all I’m asking for is a little taste, sweetheart. I swear I won’t get selfish. I’m not one of those guys.”

For a moment, she wondered if he were even a “guy” at all. His eyes twinkled as if reading her mind. Chocolate eyes sweeter than the sticky juice on her lips.

“What’s in it for me if I do?” she tilted her head, “Give you a taste, I mean.”

The smirk bloomed into a toothy grin as the boy leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “Well, what do you want, sweetheart?”

A few stores down, the neon lights began to switch off altogether. She glanced at the mannequin beside him, clad in distressed jeans and a bomber jacket.

“What’s somebody got to do to be like you?”

He followed her gaze before smiling widely, his features shifting into a boyish glee.

“Is that what you want then?” he chuckled almost sarcastically, “It certainly suits you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she frowned, popping the candy from her lips.

“How’s about this?” he sat up, crouching on his heels as his palms pressed flat against the glass, “You let me have a taste of that candy there and I’ll agree to switch places with you.”

“What?” she took a step back, a loud, hollow laugh shaking her shoulders, “As if! What would I want to be a mannequin for? You’re stuck in there, that little box!”

“Oh,” his lips twitched, “You’re stuck in a box all your own, babe.”

“I’m not your babe.” She scoffed, puckering her lips. Yes, more attitude. Never let them see you blush.

“Sweetheart,” he smiled, “Have you got a boyfriend anyways?”

The lollipop nearly slipped between her fingers. She followed his eyes as they caught her falter. Chocolate eyes sweeter than the cotton candy powder on her cheeks. His lips twitched again. Or was it the flicker of the sign overhead?

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” she pressed her lips together, one hip jutting out, “But no… not at the moment.”

“My lucky day,” he crooned, “Why don’t you let me take you out, sweetheart? Somewhere nice, get some ice cream maybe.”

She laughed, lips stretched wide, jaw unhinged.

“As if!” she breathed between desperate guffaws, “You’ve hardly got a chance, don’t you think?”

“Hmmm,” his head tilted to one side, lips pressed in contemplation. A look of despair painted his sparkling features, “I guess you’re right. You’re definitely out of my league, huh?”

Her chest swirled with unease, his words almost too sincere to be real. Or was it butterflies? Isn’t that what happens when a girl like her gets complimented like that? By a guy like him?

“I mean, you’ve got looks, that’s for sure,” he sighed, “And that body’s not made for nothing, is it, sweetheart?”

“Certainly not.” She mumbled, the candy hovering by her lips.

“I can’t even stand without a stick holding me up.” He chuckled rather pathetically, “Something tells me you’re not single by force.”

She scrutinized him once more, gaze roaming over the strong, hard muscles of his calves, the picturesque silhouette of his figure, the vivacity of his eyes, chocolate eyes sweeter than shimmering strawberry lotion coated over her legs.  

“Look, maybe you’re not all that bad,” she spoke quietly. Really, he was too pathetic. She could hardly stand to watch him wallow in self-pity anymore. And besides, what was a little bone throwing to her?  

“Not ‘not bad’ enough for a date, though, huh?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she the lollipop, “Maybe you could make up for it.”

The boy leaned forward, lips quivering with a smile, “Yeah? How’s that, sweetheart?”

Her gaze flicked back to the plastic figure behind him, arms resting on her hips, one leg out, couture as ever. But what a dull face. No sweetness in her at all.

“You know,” he pressed his palms against the glass, the plastic figure reflected in her irises, “You belong in here, sweetheart. You really do.”

She shifted from one foot to the other, incessantly on the cherry candy.

“I can see it, sweetheart. The way you walk and the way you talk. Why’re you wasting it on an empty street like this?”

She turned, staring down the way she came, the street all dark and dead now, the only sign still buzzing with life overhead.

Eternal Boutique.
Eternal Boutique.

“Yeah?” she asked, shifting to the other foot.

“It’s a waste of pretty face, letting you wander around with all those classless people.” He rested his temple against the window.

“Yeah?” the corner of her lip twitched, each nerve caught under the boy’s mindful eye. Chocolate eyes, sweeter than the bubblegum blue patent leather of her heels.

“And I’m sure you could do it better than her.” He nodded towards the figure behind him.

The smile stretched across her lips, cherry juice reddening their pinkish hue. She really could use an outfit like that.

“I always did want to do something in fashion.” She glanced down at her shoes, ever the bashful maiden, “Modeling seemed like my calling, you know?”

The boy grinned, chest humming with a chuckle, “Boy, do I, sweetheart.”

“You really think I could?”

“Well,” he breathed, “The offer’s still on the table, babe.”

She pouted glancing down at the small orb of shiny red. “Really? This is all?”

He nodded, “I do have a craving.”

“Isn’t that a bit silly?” she arched a brow, “You ought to watch your figure with a sweet tooth like that.”

“If you think it’s not a fair trade,” he shrugged, gaze wandering down her legs, “You could always offer something else on the table. I have other cravings too, you know, babe.”

“No way!” she frowned petulantly, “Not till I’ve got my share, at least.”

A sly smirk slid across his lips. “So it’s a deal then?”

She held the lollipop at arms length, staring up at the boy. “How do we do this then?”

The sign hummed low overhead, fuchsia flickering on and off, casting a shadow of pink over her smooth skin. He bit his lip, crouching on his heels.

“Lips to the glass, babe.”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing left and right. How embarrassing. Was this really the only way?

“You want me to kiss the glass?”

He nodded happily, tapping exactly at which point her lips should meet the window. Her tongue ran over the cherry juice, turning left, then right, then behind. She was alone, anyways.

His lips came into contact with the opposite side of the glass and she blushed at the proximity, the only thing separating her cherry red lips from his being the invisible barrier between.

“Mmm,” she heard a moan of satisfaction, “Definitely worth it.”

Her eyes flickered open, palms pressed flat against the glass, knees resting on the hard, plastic floor. She frowned, feeling taller than before.

“Hey,” her voice quivered. She pressed her lips together, only slightly upset at her lack of attitude, “What’s going on?”

The boy popped the lollipop from his lips, shining red under the street light. He grinned up at her, eyes gleaming with life. Chocolate eyes sweeter than the bitter old air in the display window. Chocolate eyes more alive than they ought to be.

“A deal’s a deal, babe.” He approached the window, never quite reaching its glass surface, “Really, you robbed me in this one.”

“Hey!” she slapped her palm against the window, legs trembling as he took a step forward, “Come back! What am I supposed to do?”

The slick candy made a pop as he pulled it from his suctioned lips, glancing over his shoulder. A boyish grin stretched his features. “Same thing you’ve been doing, babe. Just stand there and look pretty. I’m sure you’ll do great anyways.”

She shrieked out for him, hands banging against the impenetrable window as his figure slowly disappeared in the shadows. Her limbs grew hard, stiffer with each impact against the glass. The shimmering of her lotion morphed into a glazed sheen. The scent of fruity fragrance vanished from her clavicles, growing drier by the second. She swallowed roughly, feeling nothing wet in . The cherry taste dulled from her lips, thirst overwhelming her tongue. She called out for the boy, at first, loudly, then quieter and quieter and quieter still. At which point her vocalizations became nothing more than thought, she couldn’t be sure. The dark street slowly illuminated with the light of the sun, the neon signs buzzing to life one by one, hour by hour. The first steps of the strip’s customers clacked against the sidewalks, passing by the boutique in groups and pairs. Eyes glanced from all over, landing exclusively on her as they passed.

The affection was undeniable, the attention to every detail of her being almost too flattering. Strange, how some of them would stop and lean forward, brushing their fingers against their lips and hair, reapplying gloss and pressing their skirts down.

A smile, or what felt like one, curled the corners of her lips with each passerby, the smooth music overhead soothing her ego with gentle ease. How sad, their desperation to resemble her, she thought. Really, the boy was right. There was no one who could do the job quite as well as she.