“Fine, sit here. I’ll text if I need you,” I said.
“Why on earth would you need me?” he asked.
Exactly.I waved him off and hurried into the store, shaking off the loss of his warmth at my side. An absurd amount of hand-crafted jewelry littered a table by the register–lots of heart-themed stuff for Valentine’s and discounted sparkly bangles from New Year’s Eve. Feminine, almost bohemian clothes crowded the racks on one side whereas the other focused more on contemporary solids with flair.
A red bodycon dress with semi sheer sleeves on the contemporary side caught my eye, but that was probably too ‘sexy’ for my new brand. I reluctantly grabbed a few white and pink pieces from feminine chic. They were sweet, easily digestible daywear. In the dressing room, none of it fullyworkedon me. But maybe my mood was off. I took pictures so I could objectively judge the looks later. On a whim, I texted a picture of the best contender to Zack: a striped peasant neckline dress.
I snorted a laugh and tugged at the shoulder puffs. It wasn’tthatbad. The high waistline made my boobs look bigger and the flowing skirt disguised any stomach pooch.
Maybe this store was too kitschy for me. Or for him, at least. I sighed and re-hung the discarded clothes.
Oh, I wasn’t sweet and flirty? He wanted ‘authentic’ Nicole?
I stormed out of the dressing room and turned to the cashier. “Can I re-hang these or do you need to?”
“Y-you can do it if you want to,” she said.
Whatever. I could make her day easier. I returned the clothes where I got them on the racks and snatched up the red dress with the sheer long sleeves. I locked myself in the dressing room, then peeled off my clothes and wriggled into the dress. Mesh hung over the solid base by about an inch, providing enough skirt coverage so I didn’t flash anyone unless I fully bent over.
Just as I was flipping my hair and getting my phone ready to take a picture, I heard the clomp of a heavy gait. Was I taking so long my fake boyfriend had come looking for me?
I opened the door, my thighs chafing as I posed in the doorframe. “Zack?”
His brows climbed to his hairline as he took me in. Satisfaction pooled in my gut and the balls of my feet as his wide-eyed gaze trailed across my body. His lips parted in silent awe. The soft buzz of overhead lights tingled under my skin. Had I rendered the so-called gentleman speechless?
“What do you think?” I smirked and twisted my hips for a more flattering angle.
“Good. Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he knitted his brows together, dragging his gaze to my face. “I thought you said a high neck wasn’t flattering.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, is it?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “But you have to put some pants on or you’ll freeze.”
“Tights.” I slunk past him to the full-length mirror with a barefoot strut. “You don’t wear pants with dresses.”
“That’s a dress?” he balked.
I giggled and bent slightly more than necessary to pick up my stuff from the bench. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“I’m sure you have a few ideas,” he said, his voice gruff enough to rub my insides raw.
My gaze slipped past my reflection to catch him standing guard in the doorway, his ears and the back of his neck flushed from the effort to presumably prevent the cashier from seeing my upper legs and ass.
It'd been a long time since anyone had looked out for me.
Plus, he liked what he saw. Honestly, so did I.
