I tilt my head in the direction of the H&M just across the way, wanting to get this over with as soon as humanly possible. “I figured we could probably get everything we need there.”
“Lead the way.” He’s adopted his professional voice, theone he always used with teachers and parents. It’s smooth, with just a hint of charm, and also completely lacking Seth’s usual warmth.
We head into the store and up the escalator to the men’s section. I wait for him to take this chance to gloat about his article’s success in person. Every time I catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, he’s got a smirky smile on his lips, but he stays quiet. He knows he doesn’t have to mention he’s kicking my ass. He knows it’s something I can’t stop thinking about and how much I hate losing. Especially to him.
“Do you have any ideas about what you want to look for?” I half-heartedly finger a blue checked button-down shirt.
He shrugs, removing his sunglasses and hanging them from the collar of his faded T-shirt. “I never thought my style was all that bad, to be honest.”
I give him a once-over. “It’s not. You’ve got the wholeAvenger trying to disguise himself as a civilianlook down pat.”
He cracks an almost genuine smile. “You always did love the Avengers.”
“Even Chris Evans can’t deny the power of a good suit.” I find a spinning rack of collared shirts and riffle through, picking out a few in shades of blue, colors that will make his eyes pop.
Seth takes the chosen shirts from me. “I guess I leave my fate in your hands then.”
And with that, he dutifully follows me around the store as I pull different pieces for him to try on. Once we both have our arms loaded with garments, we make our way tothe fitting room. Surprisingly, there doesn’t seem to be a huge crowd and Seth is able to snag one of the bigger rooms.
“Are you going in with him?” the attendant asks.
“Oh hell no.” I shove the pieces I’ve been carrying into Seth’s arms and shoo him into the dressing room, flashing the attendant an apologetic smile. Finding a spot near the door, I lean against the wall and brace myself. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not blind. No matter how weird and uncomfortable things are between us right now, seeing Seth looking better than usual is going to have an effect on me.
I only ever saw him in a suit a couple of times, but the boy cleaned up well. The man, I’m sure, is going to look like he’s fresh off the pages ofGQ. My fingers subconsciously drift to the sunflower tattoo inked on my right rib cage as I’m both blessed and cursed with a vivid memory of prom night our senior year.
Seth arrived to pick me up dressed in a fitted black suit, about as basic as a prom-night look can get. Only he paired it with a mustard-yellow tie. It made about zero sense, in terms of style or otherwise, until he unearthed the plastic container holding my corsage. Somehow he’d convinced the florist to make me a sunflower corsage, even though the bloom itself was bigger than the palm of my hand. We both fell into a cascade of giggles as he slipped the elastic band over my wrist, the huge flower obscuring almost my entire forearm.
A throat clearing pulls me out of my haze of memories.
Luckily, Seth’s taking wardrobe baby steps, coming out in fitted jeans and one of the button-down shirts I picked,sleeves rolled up to perfectly display those damned forearms.
“What do you think?” He tugs a little on the collar of the shirt.
I clear my own throat so the words don’t come out mangled. “Looks good. Casual but professional.”
“Great.” He nods succinctly before heading back into the dressing room.
Next, he comes out in another button-down, this time tucked into gray slacks. My mouth goes a little dry, so I merely give him a thumbs-up and send him back to try on the next. And I’m glad I’ve had a bit of mental prep time, because when he comes out for the third time, I almost fall over. Thank Odin for the wall holding me up.
The suit is navy blue, paired with a white shirt covered in minuscule gray dots. It fits him like it’s been custom made, and I’ve never seen him look so good.
I hold up my phone to snap a photo. “Natasha wanted me to post on our Stories,” I say as an apology. I turn my attention to the camera to distract myself from the vision in front of me, though all it does is force me to focus on him even more. I capture a few photos and then swipe over to Instagram and theATFaccount.
The attendant gives Seth an appreciative once-over. “Fit is just about perfect, but you need to see it with a tie.” He riffles through the stray garments littering the fitting room counter.
I can’t look at him any longer, afraid I might spontaneously combust, so I pretend to be engrossed in my phone. Ishare one of the photos of Seth toATF’s Instagram Stories while the attendant helps him with a tie. Reactions to Seth in a suit pour in almost immediately. Most of them are versions of flames and heart eyes, but many are much more graphic than that. All of them make my stomach turn.
“Much better,” the attendant finally says.
Taking in a long deep breath, I raise my eyes, praying I’ll be unaffected. I’ve already seen him in the outfit, there’s nothing adding a tie can do to make the searing attraction I clearly still feel for Seth any stronger.
Except the tie the attendant has fitted him with is yellow. Mustard yellow. Sunflower yellow.
“Just imagine a different color.” The attendant misinterprets the pained look on my face.
But Seth knows. His eyes meet mine and they are blazing yet soft, and I know he remembers every single detail I was just picturing not five minutes before. He gives me a small smile, and it’s both sad and sweet and the most genuine emotion I’ve seen from him since he arrived in LA.
“Looks great,” I finally manage to choke out.
