“Nope.” I reach for his bag as he shows no sign of movement. I step inside and hold the door for him to follow, which he does.
“Then what are we doing?” he asks from behind me.
Standing at the far end of the counter inspecting some new material samples that just came in, Radia gives me an inquisitive look as I dump Marcello’s bag behind the counter, along with mine.
“Yes, good question,” she says. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going shopping,” I tell Marcello.
“Shopping?” He repeats, the word heavy with confusion.
“Save yourself, Marcello,” Radia says dramatically. “Tell him you’d rather go to the gym. He’ll go along with it.”
Marcello blinks at Radia but then looks back at me. “Why are we going shopping?”
“Because he’s not so secretly a sadomasochist who likes to make others suffer,” Radia offers.
“What is wrong with me going shopping?” I prop my hands on my hips and glare at Radia.
Radia drops the fabric in her hands. “You are terrible at shopping. Whenever you nip out to just get something, you’re gone for hours. And nine times out of ten you always come back with three times as many things as you set out to buy.”
I ignore the rush of panic that surges through me. I flex and fist my hands, keeping them busy. “Well, doesn’t that technically make me good at shopping if I buy lots of things?”
“I just don’t think it’s fair you drag someone else along with you,” Radia mutters as she adjusts her hijab and looks down at the fabrics again. She tuts wistfully. “I thought you two were friends now. It would be a shame to end that friendship so soon.”
“Why would our friendship end?” Marcello asks, still looking very confused.
“Because you will die of boredom. RIP Marcello. Thank you for all the coffees. I’ve enjoyed your chocolate croissants immensely.” Radia feigns a sympathetic look in Marcello’s direction.
“We’re not shopping for me,” I say before pointing at Marcello. “We’re shopping for him.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” I say confidently. “We’re going to get you some new gym gear.”
Marcello’s eyes widen, and he lowers his voice. “Like… drugs.”
Radia snorts.
“No!” I say, somewhat horrified. “Clothes.”
“It gets worse.” Radia groans. “Marcello, would you like to be cremated or buried?”
“I don’t… I don’t need new gym gear.” He glances at where I stashed his bag. “Do I?”
“Your collection of Nineties Italian Serie A football shirts are… very endearing. A very impressive collection,” I tell him. “But on our run you said your shorts were chafing you and I am a firm believer, for obvious reasons, that clothes maketh the man so getting you some more… up to date gym clothes may help you feel more… enthusiastic about training.”
“I do like new things.” Marcello smiles slightly.
“You’re made for each other.” Radia tuts again. “Good luck, Marcello! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” she calls out before disappearing into the back studio.
I step closer to Marcello, just in case she can still hear us. “I know. Novelty. It’s something that can motivate people with ADHD, right?”
A strange look flashes across Marcello’s face and I wonder if I’ve said too much. Maybe his ADHD is something he doesn’t mind talking about but he isn’t so comfortable with others discussing it. I can respect that if that is the case. I can understand it acutely. I open my mouth to apologise but he is quicker.
“You know about that?”
I shrug. “I did some reading at the weekend.
