His eyebrows rise slightly. "We?"
"You agreed to attend a black-tie event. That means actual black tie, not the suit you wore to your high school graduation."
"Bold of you to assume I attended my high school graduation," he replies, but there's no real bite to it. "But point taken. Where is this fitting happening?"
"Downtown. Montgomery's." Closing my textbook, I put studying on hold for now. "Family account."
"Of course," he says with a small smile. "Do the Huntingtons own anything that doesn't come with an account and a long-standing relationship?"
"My soul," pops out dry as dirt. "Though they've been trying to acquire it for years."
He laughs, and the sound does something strange to my insides. It's been happening more frequently, these unexpected moments when James's presence affects me physically. A flutter in my stomach when he smiles. A warmth when he laughs. It's inconvenient, to put it mildly.
"I'll be ready at 2:30," he says. "Should I wear something specific to the fitting?"
"Just clothes. They'll measure over whatever you have on."
He nods, lingering in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary. "So... your mom texted?"
"How did you know?"
"You have a specific face when dealing with your family. Somewhere between resignation and indigestion."
Dammit. Don't encourage him. Too late.The laugh escapes anyway. "At least you didn't say constipation. And yes, it's my mother. She's just confirming the appointment."
"And subtly reminding you of your obligations?"
"There's nothing subtle about my mother's reminders." Standing up to stretch, my back cracks after hours hunched over textbooks. "I should get some lunch before we go."
"I saved you some of the pasta Gavin made," James offers. "It's surprisingly decent."
The casual thoughtfulness melts through my defenses. James noticed I hadn't eaten and saved me food. It's such a small thing, but it lands with unexpected weight.
"Thanks," I say, suddenly feeling awkward. "That was... thoughtful."
He shrugs, "Whatever. It's just pasta."
But we both know it's not just pasta. It's another small chip in the wall we've both built around ourselves. Another moment that blurs the line between fake and real.
Chapter 11
The Unexpected Side Effects of Formalwear
CALEB
Montgomery's Fine Menswear looks the same as it has for my entire life: dark wood panelling, plush carpet, and the slightly musty smell of expensive fabric. The sales associate, Mr. Harrington, greets me by name as soon as we enter.
"Mr. Huntington, it's wonderful to see you again." His eyes slide to James, taking in his height and build with professional assessment. "And this must be your... friend?"
The hesitation is slight but unmistakable.
"My boyfriend, James Hunter." Watching Mr. Harrington closely to see how he'll treat James.Mother's definitely called ahead. Instructions? Or just intel gathering?
"He'll need a suit for the gala as well. We're looking for dark, formal suits with white shirts, black bow ties, and formal shoes."
Rubbing the back of my neck, a nervous tic I never grew out of, I glance at James. "I didn't think getting tuxes made sense. As long as we dress these up properly, they might be acceptable to my mother."
James nods, already looking around at the racks of formal wear.
