"Are you staying over again? You're welcome to, but it's just you don't have any clothes, not that you need them —” I realize what I just said and stop myself “—Yes you need them. I just mean you haven't changed since yesterday, not that you stink or anything. Oh god, it keeps getting worse.” I cover my eyes with my hand and peek out at him through my fingers, “I just want you to be comfortable and don't feel like you have to stay here or anything." I gush out in one long breath then my face crinkles at my wording.
Beau just smiles, "Glad to know I don't stink." He smirks, "I was planning on stopping by my place to get some stuff, but I was afraid if I asked you, you would just tell me to stay home.” He smiles genuinely, “I'm happy to hear you've already invited me to stay." He waggles his eyebrows. I look at the clock. It's barely eight on a Saturday night, and I'm in my comfy clothes camped out on the couch.
I feel self-conscious about how much I've isolated myself.
"Did you want me to go with you?" I ask quietly. "We could get a few of your things. I mean you don't have to stay,” I shift, “but if you are, I could go with you." I try to sound more confident but not too assuming.
"You don't mind coming with me?"
I shake my head, "Not at all. I just realized I got you tucked away at barely eight on a Saturday night." I'm probably boring him out of his skull.
He furrows his brow. "I wish we didn't have to go, but I guess I could use some stuff. I should have just bought a few things when we were out," he muses almost to himself.
"Let me just throw my jeans back on," I say and stand to go get redressed
"What?" He asks.
"I'm gonna put some clothes on really quick," I say, thinking he mustn't have heard me.
"I heard you, but why?" He seems truly confused looking at my black yoga pants and baggy vee neck shirt that is so threadbare you can clearly make out the color of my bra through it.
"I can't go outside in this, I'll only be a minute." I scoff.
"What's wrong with what you have on?" he challenges.
"I don't wear this in public," I gesture down at my body.
He looks down again, "Alright." He concedes, "I don't think I want anyone seeing your ass in those pants anyway, but the shirt stays." He commands like I'll just obey
"What?" Now it's my turn to question him, “You can’t be serious?”
"I think I like that I'm the only one seeing you in those things you call pants, but the shirt sweets, it’s sexy. I want you to keep that shirt on." He looks up at me, his tongue licking across his bottom lip.
My stomach clenches as I find myself saying, "Okay." I dash back to the bathroom where my jeans are folded on top of the dryer.
The washer has finished, so I pull everything out and hang my new bras on the hooks I've installed for just this purpose and throw the rest in the dryer on low.
I look in the mirror and see my flushed cheeks. My lips are curved up in an easy smile. I think this is pretty close to the best I've looked in a while. I look happy and not even my slouchy white tee shirt can make me feel bad.
I skip out of the bathroom.
