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Seth sat outside the cellar door and waited for Clary. It hadn’t taken him long to get ready, not when Aldric had already laid out what Seth was supposed to wear on the bed.
He wasn’t sure about the light gray cashmere sweater. He wasn’t even sure exactly who it belonged to since it couldn’t be Aldric’s. Oliver’s? Regardless, considering how many dates Aldric had been on—way too many to count—and how many dates Seth had been on—none—he decided it was best to just wear whatever was on the bed.
He did almost take the cashmere sweater off right away.
He’d never liked the material since he was young. Holly loved cashmere, and she always bought it for them. Seth always wore something underneath because no matter how soft everyone else claimed it was, it always felt scratchy to him.
But he could deal with a little scratchiness, he supposed.
And he was glad he did when Clary’s lips curled back when she saw him.
“You look different.”
“It’s not mine.” He looked down at the sweater. “Maybe Oliver’s?”
“It looks good on you.” Her head tipped slightly to the side as she studied his face. “Why do you look so uncomfortable?”
“Do I?” Seth stood, taking the chance to give Clary a look over. “You look amazing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t have any nice dresses with me since I didn’t expect to be going out on dates.” She smoothed down the dark green skirt that showed off her slim waist and fell to her shins, then brushed off some invisible lint on the hem of her black long-sleeved T-shirt as she walked toward him.
“I like it.” He held his hand out, and she put her hand into his with no hesitation.
Seth curled his fingers around her hand and brushed the pad of his thumb across her knuckles.
“What is it?” she asked, and he realized he’d been staring at her hand.
“It just …”
She arched a brow.
“It still awes me that you always put your hand in mine, that you haven’t run away after—”
“Stop.” She stepped up to him. “You’re not a mess.” She rubbed a hand down his arm, and he struggled not to wince. “Was it me or the sweater?”
“I hate cashmere.”
“Then why did you wear it, silly?” She took a step back and cocked her head to the side. “We’re still home. Why don’t you go change?”
He squared his shoulders. “It’s okay.”
Her brows puckered.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said, deciding to change the subject, because he didn’t want to keep thinking about how uncomfortable his sweater was. “I found a way for you to enjoy your present now.”
“Oh?” Her brows rose, and she beamed. “So that was why you confiscated my present.”
He scratched his head. “Should I have let you open it first?”
“You wrapped it?”
“I’m not a savage, Clary.”
“You never give gifts. I didn’t think you knew how to wrap presents.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Andrea’s horrible at wrapping, because her mom was always the one who handled that. Your brothers are horrible at it too.”
She couldn’t comment on his wrapping skills since he and Zane had been guarding and distributing the paper, tape, ribbon, and especially scissors before the rest of them transitioned from casual banter to all-out fights. He wasn’t sure if it escalated the same way with women, but it was always that way with his brothers.
He gave her a sheepish smile. “Maybe ‘wrapping it’ is kind of an exaggeration. I put it in a gift bag.”
