“Honestly, I’m fine. I don’t think I even need anything—”
“Max.” Becca put her hands on her hips, and I groaned. It looked like I wasn’t getting out of this easily.
“How many more dresses have you got in there?” I asked.
Becca smiled and skipped back into the cubicle. “Just one.”
“Thank fuck for that,” I muttered under my breath.
“I heard that!” Becca shouted.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, scrolling through social media until the curtain opened, revealing Becca once again. She was wearing a dark, gunmetal grey dress. It was still too short, but the material was eye-catching, almost shimmering in the light.
“That’s nice. Get that one.” I nodded, looking back down to my phone.
“Do you mean that, or are you just saying that, so we leave?” Becca narrowed her eyes with suspicion.
“I mean it. You’d probably need to wear tights or something though. It’s a bit cold to have your ass hanging out this time of year,” I teased, earning myself a playful kick to the shin.
“Of course I’d be wearing tights!” she exclaimed, turning to admire herself in a nearby mirror, smiling. “I love it. This is the one.”
“Good, so can we stop looking at girly things now?” I sighed.
“Yeah, yeah – only boy shops from now on, I promise.” Becca grinned, hurrying back inside the cubicle to change.
After paying, we headed back out onto the high street, and it wasn’t long until we ducked into the next shop. We both rubbed our hands together, glad of the warmth inside.
“Any idea what you want to wear?” Becca asked, flicking through a rack of shirts.
“Not really.” I shrugged. “A t-shirt maybe?”
“Got it. Sexy t-shirt. Ooh, what about this?” She held up a garment.
“It’s alright,” I replied. Becca continued to look at me, waiting for an explanation. “It’s a bit boring.”
“True.” Becca carried on hunting through the clothes. “This is nice.” She held up a dark t-shirt with a subtle pinstripe. It was unusual, but I couldn’t deny that I quite liked it. Definitely a bit more interesting than the plethora of plain tees I had in my wardrobe.
“That’s actually quite nice. How much is it?” I asked.
“It’s on me, that’s how much it is.” Becca grinned. Before I could protest, she cut me off. “Payment for putting up with me today.”
“Ithasbeen pretty traumatic…” She slapped me and I laughed. “Thanks, Bec.”
“What size do you usually wear in a t-shirt?” she asked, turning to flick through the clothing rail.
“A medium, I guess?” I answered.
Becca turned and thrust a ‘small’ into my hands and gestured to the fitting room. I sighed – if there was anything I disliked more than clothes shopping, it was trying things on. The stern look on Becca’s face told me I wasn’t getting out of it though. We both made our way into the changing rooms and Becca followed me into the cubicle without a second thought. I removed the plain white t-shirt I wore under my uniform and tugged the new, striped shirt on over my head.
“It’s a bit tight,” I muttered.
“It’s meant to be. Now see, I think that looks really nice.”
I gave my reflection a once over. “Y’think?” I tugged the material down self-consciously. I didn’t generally make a habit of wearing ‘muscle fit’-style t-shirts. I felt they were a bit pretentious but even I had to admit this one looked pretty damn good on me. It clung to all the right places, enhancing the abs I had been neglecting in the gym of late.
Becca paid for the shirt, and we headed back towards the bus stop – both stopping to buy a new fragrance on the way.
???
