There is an overwhelming amount of options here. I don’t even know what colours I like.
“What’s going on?” His voice is still hard, but there’s a glimmer of concern there, dare I say it.
I shake my head, my chest suddenly filling with panic. “I – I don’t know.”
He studies me, his green eyes are a laser burning into me, but I can’t seem to cower away, the panic overpowering any care I have about this guy losing his patience with me.
The hand he’s holding is soaking, sweat is covering me now, and I may just throw up right here, over this rack of flowery blouses.
He steps towards me carefully and brings a hand up to my chin, and tilts it. That’s when I realise tears have filled my eyes, his face a wet blur. “It’s okay, Elodie. You can get what you want. I’ll help, okay?”
This breaks a little hole in my throat that allows me to suck in some oxygen. I nod, unable to get any words out.
He tugs my hand and takes us over to the female section. It’s like he’s a personal shopper all of a sudden. He wastes no time hesitating or debating before he’s grabbing one item after the other, hanging them over our joined hands. When the heap starts getting heavy between us, he stops off at the lingerie section and turns to me.
He doesn’t speak, only stares at my chest for an uncomfortable amount of time, then turns and picks up some bra and thong sets. Then he takes us over to the fitting room. Has he just guessed my bra size?
A slim girl with black hair greets us, a bright, flirty smile playing on her lips as she takes Caden in.
“Hey, Cade, how you doing?”
“Hi, Millie,” he says flatly, looking at me straight away. “We’ve got some stuff to try on.”
She doesn’t even try to hide her distaste in having to acknowledge me. “Sure. Pick any room.”
He walks us past her, and I can’t help but glower at her. I don’t know why, but I get a spark of satisfaction knowing this girl clearly likes him. And he’s with me.
He takes us through to the fancy dressing room; all velvet plush sofas and armchairs scattered across the fluffy carpet. It’s empty, all doors open.
“Don’t take forever.” Caden scoops the pile up and dumps it inside one of the cubicles and walks back out, perching on one of the sofas, spreading his legs and pulling out his phone.
I close the door and catch myself in the mirror. I’ve seen my reflection in Cade’s mirror, but have always avoided meeting my own eyes. Avoided seeing the tragedy staring back. I do the same now, before I can register the misery looking back at me.
I slip on a black lace bra and thong set, forgetting what it was like to have support around my tits. I don’t even want to begin to decipher how he guessed my size correctly.
I shuffle through the clothes, picking out some black skinny jeans and T-shirt. I throw them on and only allow myself a glimpse in the mirror once I’m dressed. It doesn’t feel good. Skin hugging and outlining my skeleton. I look like a child.
I open the door and step out. Caden looks up and scans me before curling his lips down. “Not bad. You like it?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
He looks like he’s fighting hard not to roll his eyes. “They look fine. Next one.” He goes back to his phone.
I go back into the fitting room and try on the next. He’s picked me out different types of jeans, some leggings, long sleeve and short sleeve shirts. I go in and out, unable to decide if I like them myself. The decision seems too big for my brain to comprehend, so I let Caden do all the work. He okays most of them, any he shakes his head at gets thrown to the side.
It’s easier to let him do it, to take control. I’ve chosen to give him the control this time, and it feels better. It feels right. My brain is clear, I feel lighter.
Once all the trousers and shirts are done, I’m left with some dresses and skirts. They’re beautiful. Too good for me. All shiny and black and silky and frilly. I shudder at the sight of them and put Caden’s clothes back on and walk out, heaving my newly approved clothes in my arms.
Caden looks up and frowns at me. “What about the dresses and skirts?”
I shake my head. “I’ve got plenty.”
He stretches out his leg, tucking his phone away in his pocket, and gets to his feet. “Try on the rest, Elodie.”
I fix him with a glare. “I said I’m good. Let’s go.”
He rolls his head back along with his eyes like I’m this disobedient little kid, and he shoves me back into the dressing room. I stumble in there and drop all the clothes.
