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Her glare cuts to me, slicing me in half in a way that warms my chest. “To be frank, you didn’t exactly give lots of time. I’m just going to try on as many things as possible.”
“Okay.” I move clothes aside, assaulted by orange and pink and some ugly floral pattern that reminds me of my grandmother’s bedsheets. “You want me to pick a few things?”
“I think you should help, yes.” She’s focused, forehead wrinkled in concentration as she pulls a teal dress down from the hanger and drapes it over her already full pile.
I can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes. Maybe Noah was right. It would be fucking stupid to say I didn’t find her attractive, but I won’t admit that or think about it. Again, I’m trying to distance myself from Ted Bundy.
I find a black dress that seems decent and pull it off the hanger, sifting through the aisle to add a gray dress and some bright orange jumpsuit. The jumpsuit is objectively ugly. It’s exactly why I picked the thing.
“So,” I start, moving to stand next to her as she furiously looks through the gowns on her arm. “What do you do for work?”
“I actually collect human bodies and wear the skin.” She looks up, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement, when she notices my blank stare. “Kidding,” she says. “I work in marketing. It’s very–” She clears her throat, glancing back down at the dresses when her brows stitch together. “Stable,” she finishes.
“Sounds like a true passion for you.”
Those dark amber eyes whip to mine. “It’s enjoyable,” she defends. “I enjoy it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Her eyes narrow, dipping to notice the smile I’m holding in before she pats the pile of dresses she’s carrying. If she carried anymore, I’m afraid she would topple over. “Alright,” she says. “Time to try these on.” She glances at the three pitiful clothing items I’ve collected for her. “I’m not boring, by the way.”
“I never said you were.”
“It was implied with the whole marketing discussion.” Her eyes cut to the orange jumpsuit. “I’ll try that one first.” Ellis snatches the garment out of my hands like she’s determined to make it her outfit for the wedding. “If only to prove that I am not boring.”
I let the smile loose when she turned around to waltz into the dressing rooms. I follow along, seating myself on a random bench and pulling out my phone as she disappears into the stall.
Stretching an arm behind my head, I rub the back of my neck nervously. It’s the only indication I give to the fact that my stomach has been swirling and twisting since the moment I saw her in the coffee shop.
I really want this to go well, and I’m painfully aware of the fact that it might not.
When I thumb through my phone, I find a text from Noah.
Noah:How’s your hot date?
Me:Not a date
Noah:But hot? What have you talked about? What are you wearing?
Me:Decline to answer. Marketing. Khakis.
Noah:Listen, for a guy who has the whole indie-music thing going for him, you’re really terrible with women. Maybe you should try becoming an English Professor and wearing glasses.
Noah:Also . . . Khakis?
I glance down at my black jeans and huff a laugh. A loud noise sounds from the dressing room has me snapping my gaze up.
I don’t even have time to respond or ask a question.
“I’m fine!” Ellis shouts from inside the room.
“Glad to hear it.”
I look back at my phone.
Me:I’m not trying to pick this girl up.
Noah:Famous last words
