Stan's laugh pulled me from my thoughts. He was staring at the sad lump of discarded fabric that used to be his clothes. They laid in a heap on the floor resembling an overgrown dead rat.
"Can't believe the difference in these outfits," he murmured, looking at himself. Pride shone in his eyes, which made me so happy. I loved seeing him come out of his shell and rediscover his own confidence.
"Indeed." A light bulb flashed in my head. "Ah! I have an idea. If you have no sentimental attachment to those... clothes," I said, forcing the word to come out because what I really wanted to say wasgarbage, "you should toss them out back in the dumpster."
He grinned. "I thought you wanted to set them on fire."
"That too."
"Though I guessnotsetting things on fire is the more environmentally friendly option," Stan said. "Want to do it together?"
Oh, my heart. I fell deeper in love with my fated mate with each passing second.
"Absolutely," I said. "There's just one thing I have to do here first. You go on ahead, I'll be with you lickety-split."
Stan nodded, none the wiser to my plan, and scooped up the 'clothes' to be discarded. "All right."
As soon as he left the room, I acted fast. I grabbed the skin-safe glitter I kept in a glass jar beside my mirror and quickly finished my task. It was a bit sloppy, but it got the point across and that's what mattered. Besides, it was the first plan I could think of on such short notice.
It only took a few moments for me to catch up with Stan, who was out by the dumpster. He sighed. "Fabian, youreallythink I should throw these out? Can't I even donate them to charity or something?"
I pointedly raised an eyebrow and pinched the sleeve of the old shirt with two fingers. As I lifted it from his arms, the edges frayed and the fibers began disintegrating in front of our eyes.
"Okay, fine, you win," Stan mumbled. "Into the trash they go."
With great fanfare, Stan chucked them into the dumpster and saluted their service. I laughed.
"Thank you," I said. "I'm proud of you, by the way. You've come a long way in such a short amount of time."
He blushed and rubbed his neck. "Well, I had help. You."
I bit down on my tongue so I didn't blurt out the depths of my affection for him. I just needed to get him back to the office.
I cleared my throat. "There's something else I'd like to show you."
Stan followed me back to the private room. My heart was pounding like nothing else. I never lost my cool like this—it was a testament to how badly Stan affected me, twisting me upside-down and inside-out.
"Why don't you take a seat by the mirror?" I suggested, pretending to flip through some portfolios.
"Sure."
Stan sat down, not particularly looking at anything.
And then he saw it.
He froze, going shock still as his eyes landed on the table. The text was written out in glitter—the three words I wanted to tell him but didn't know how.
I love you.
Stan whipped around, facing me with wide eyes. His mouth hung open like he didn't know what to say.
"Uh, there's—something written here? On your table? In glitter?" he stammered. He clambered out of the seat as if the glitter text was going to leap at his face like a tiger.
He was so adorable I had to laugh. And then he was so adorable I had to pinch his cheeks. I strode over to him, my heart racing, and pressed my hands to his face. He was flustered and his skin was hot.
"F-Fabian?" he said.
"Yes?"
