I pull on the third pair without even looking at them, and thankfully, they button without a fight. I let out a sigh of relief and open the door.
“Okay, here. What do you think?”
Nate’s eyes go wide, as if he didn’t actually expect me to show him, but then his gaze travels up and down me, lingering on my legs.
Be normal. It’s just Nate.
My skin erupts in gooseflesh anyway.
“T-they’re nice.” He clears his throat and his eyes meet mine. “Are they comfy?”
I turn and look at the mirror and immediately want to hide again. They’re short, coming only to the top of my thigh. Even if they fit well, there’s way too much of me on display.
Now I see why Nate acted the way he did. “Come on, man. You could’ve warned me my ass was hanging out.”
“I-I didn’t notice.”
I turn with a glare. “Don’t lie.”
The tips of his ears are red. They’redefinitelytoo short. “All right, all right. I did notice. But is it really a bad thing? This is a vacation, after all.”
Yeah, a vacation with my platonic best friend. It’s already making me feel like I could melt that he evensawme in these. There’s no way I’ll ever put them on again.
I won’t survive if I do.
“I’m gonna try on more.” I go back into the dressing room and take a breath when I’m alone. It’s tempting to go over his reaction in my head and dissect every clue like a schoolgirl with a crush.
But I don’t have a crush. It’s just Nate.
The best thing to do is let this go. I want this cruise to be as fun as possible. Making things out of nothing isnothow I do that.
I throw the too-short pair into the no pile and then go through the other shorts I have. The next set is a pair of bike shorts that go to my mid-thigh, and I feel much better when I come out of the dressing room.
“Those are nice,” Nate says.
“And very comfortable. They’re good for exploring the jungle, right? Oh! And they have pockets.”
“What’s with women’s clothes and not having pockets?” Nate asks. “Do you think it’s a conspiracy to sell purses?”
“Definitely.”
“Disgusting. You should get those, though. Fight the anti-pocket man.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say with a shake of my head, but the second I pull them off after retreating into my fitting room, I put them in the yes pile.
The next pair is a version of the khakis I have. They’re the ones I feel the most comfortable in. Nate warns me they might get destroyed, but I get them anyway.
I find one other pair of jean shorts that look decent and go to my mid-thigh before I’m sweaty and desperate to leave the store.
“Just the three?” he asks as he sees what I’m putting back. I wonder if he’ll comment on the shorter ones returning to the rack, but he doesn’t.
“Yeah. It should be enough. I also have my leggings and pants.”
He slowly nods. “Mind if we also go through the men’s section?”
“You wanna look at the button-up shirts, don’t you?” I spot the multicolored monstrosities from across the store.
“You know me so well.”
