Adeline sprints to the kitchen. “I love your place. You like the area?”
“Yeah.” It’s not a lie. I love the tree lined streets. I like my neighbors, which is really saying something. And more than anything, I love having a place where I have complete control.
I grew up in council flats. It wasn’t until New York City that I lived somewhere alone, not a family member or roommate in sight.
I’m aware I don’t own the place. It’s not a mortgage. But I can pick out the furniture. Play whatever music I want. Arrange my groceries however I see fit.
“You tired of commuting?” I ask Adeline. She moved back in with her parents after graduating university and has lived there ever since.
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m fifty/fifty. I feel like I should move out, but I kind of can’t be bothered.”
The Akatov home is a far cry from the flats I grew up in. I don’t fault her for wanting her own place, but it’s not a hardship hanging out at home.
“Okay, so here are my thoughts for the night.” Adeline begins to place items on my bed. She’s brought more clothes than I currently own. “It goes without saying, blue is yourcolor. I thought we’d stay on trend. Also, it’s a weeknight, so not crazy. It’s a dive bar, so casual.”
“I’ve given it a thought. I’m just going to wear what I normally do.”
Adeline gives me a look, and my stomach sinks. Especially when she runs her eye over the clothes I’m currently wearing.
I’ve never answered the door while I’m wearing shorts. Even when Ren comes over, I change into something that will cover my scar. It’s a big deal, letting Adeline see it again.
“I just want. . .”
“To be comfortable,” she fills in. “I’m not asking you to push it. I want you to feel confident and not so nervous that it has the opposite effect. Let’s try jeans. And maybe a shirt that’s a bit. . .”
She can’t hide the wicked grin on her face.
“Oh, God.” I groan at whatever plan she’s got. “If you had an outfit picked out, why did you bring so much stuff?”
“Because they’re your clothes now.”
She’s certifiable.
“I told you I have a shopping addiction.” She holds up a blue crewneck. “This suits you.”
“I can’t take all this stuff.”
“But it’s all stuff you would look great in.” She holds up a pair of jeans. “Try these on.”
I shuck out of my shorts, pulling the denim on. Admittedly, the material is softer than I remember most jeans being.
“What’s with all the shopping?” I ask.
“When I need to feel something, I buy something.”
“That’s a lot of trying to feel something,” I note. She’s even brought shoes to give me.
“Don’t I know it,” she says under her breath. “Those look good.”
The fabric skims my thighs but doesn’t rub.
“The key with baggier jeans,” Adeline says, “is the waist.”
Cinched in at the waist, the wide leg, baggier material hangs down my legs rather than trapping them. I’m not swimming in the pair of jeans, though.
“Try this on,” she says.
It’s a light blue tank top.
