For the first time in a while I feel like I have permission to be silly, and I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I put my hands on my hips and strike another pose, crossing my eyes.
Then another and another and another until Myles and I are laughing so hard I almost tear up.
“So we’re buying these outfits, right?” I say.
“Not a chance,” he replies, chuckling between every word.
I laugh, hugging my stomach. “I need the world to see it.”
“It’s only for you,” he whispers.
I bite at my smile.
If he had said things like this to me in the past, I would’ve screamed like a school girl and thrown myself at him, but right now I don’t know what to do or how to feel.
When I head back to my dressing room to change, I have to sit on the bench for a moment because it’s all too surreal. I’m shocked at how easily we slipped back intous. It truly feels like the past few years never happened, and I don’t want it to end. I want to stay in this denial for as long as possible.
We spend about another hour roaming the thrift store, looking at all the random things people had donated. I’m always interested in the things people get rid of. There are so many stories in every item. There was an entire set of strawberry-themed cookware, and I imagined it belonged to an older lady with a house that smelled like cookies.
We sat on all of the furniture, rating which couches and chairs were best because we had nothing better to do.
“This is the winner,” I’d said, sitting on a gray sectional.
Myles shook his head while he sat across from me on achair that looked like it was straight out of a hair salon. “This has more character.”
I pointed to the red patch on the back of the sectional. “Excuse me. Do you see this? It’s dripping in character.”
Then for some reason I still don’t understand, we found an excessive number of ducks. A duck lamp shade, a duck tablecloth, and even a duck mug. We noticed so many, we ran around the store seeing who could find the most. Each time we found another one, I started laughing because I didn’t understand why the store had such an obsession with them. Then again, it’s not like they had a choice in what was donated to them.
When we’ve thoroughly annoyed the staff beyond the point of return, we quietly leave the store after buying nothing but the hat and scarf.
“What now?” Myles asks once we’re back in the car.
“It’s your turn to pick.”
“I’m bad at being put on the spot.”
“Nonsense.” I take the end of my scarf and wave it in front of his face like I would’ve done when I was young. “You just need more practice.”
His cheeks turn pink as he looks up at me. “I can’t think when you do that.”
“Excuses,” I say, making a face.
He laughs, taking my hand to stop the scarf from moving. “I’m serious.”
I sigh, pulling back. “Fine.” But inside me there’s an uncontrollable want to tease him. I rest my elbow on the center console and perch my head on my hand, staring at him with big eyes.
“That’s not any better,” he says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not doing anything.”
“Oh sure,” he says, holding up a hand to block my face from view. “I forgot you just naturally look like a constipated monkey.”
I chuckle as my jaw shifts to the side. “Excuse me?” I lower his hand. “A constipated monkey?”
He holds up his hands and shrugs.
“First of all”—I hold up a finger—“you should be honored to look at my beautiful face. And secondly, is that really the best insult you can come up with? I feel like we can do better than that.”
