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Trinity snorted. “I knew you would flip over this place. It’s not really my scene, but I’ve noticed how you like to dress. Go wild.” She held out an arm and gestured toward all the racks of carefree, flowy goodness.
Any apprehension I had about shopping evaporated by the time I reached the first rack. Cream colored crop tops made of the softest material were paired with flowing ankle length skirts. Everything in here was mostly a neutral color, which I didn’t mind at all, but I did miss a splash of personality. Maybe there was more in the back.
“Alright, noted. The way to break you out of your shell is to find you hippie aesthetic stores. Maybe I’ll have to try out a few pieces. Embrace some of your style. Maybe then I could build a harem of dicks too.”
I gasped and turned toward her in time to catch her sly smirk before she wiped it away with a look of pure innocence. “You can’t talk about dicks like that in here!”
“Why not?” Trinity asked, then pressed her lips together as if to suppress her laughter.
“Because this is a religious store!” I whisper yelled.
“What the hell?” She glanced around. The moment she took in the artistically framed bible and inspirational quotes on the wall between displays cracked me up. She went from belligerent to chastised in a heartbeat.
“Okay, maybe you’re right. I shouldn’t talk about you having orgy sex with so many dicks in this place,” she said in a fairly loud voice as she shrugged.
“Trinity!” I yelled through laughter, my face burning from both a blush and a too wide smile. The sales lady standing by the door eyed us with a slight downturn to her mouth. It wasn’t quite a frown, she was too polite for that in her ethereal dress and wooden bead necklaces, but it was close.
“Like you care.” She snorted as she moved deeper into the store. She stopped at a stand of fedoras and plucked one from the stack.
I didn’t care. Not really. Yes, the store had a soft religious vibe, but I liked their clothes. Just because I’d struggled with accepting religion as my pastor father and overbearing mother had tried to force it on me, didn’t mean I’d shun everything in life that even hinted at spirituality. No, I’d been more concerned with the attention we were getting from shoppers because she kept sayingdicksso loud.
Whatever. I’d learned pretty quickly over the last few weeks that when Trinity wasn’t trying to be a bitch, she was actually funny, in an obscenely blunt kind of way. She didn’t care at all what people thought about her. And yeah, sometimes she said things for shock factor, like now.
The difference between her and Thatcher was a wide chasm that didn’t do anything to diminish their love for each other. I was glad to witness it.
“Does this suit me?” She turned around with the fedora tipped to the side, almost covering one eye.
“Um…honest opinion? It’s not your style. At least not wearing jeans and a Wildcat sweatshirt. School spirit doesn’t mesh with mysteriously fashionable.”
She grunted. “Of course, it doesn’t. I couldn’t really pull off your look anyway. You’re all cutesy and innocent. I’m more badass and bitchy. We should stop at Freaky’s on the way home. That would probably match me better.”
Passing her, I found a circular brimmed straw hat that was adorable. Selecting that one to try on, I turned toward the mirror. “What’s that?”
“A sex and motorcycle store.”
“Ha!” I blurted out louder than I’d meant to. Hell, who was I kidding, I hadn’t meant to make a sound at all. But that visual of Trinity trying on leather chaps with glitter sparkled dildos in each hand was too funny.
“What time is Ryan supposed to be here?” She stopped to look at the belt display in the corner. Some were braided leather, some braided yarn, but all very fairy-like in appearance. Not her style either.
“He’s probably already walking around. I can text him what store we’re at.” Pulling my phone out, I opened his text thread.
Me: Want to meet us in the store or at the food court for dinner?
Ryan: Food court. I’m looking at shoes at the moment.
He loved his shoes. His red sneakers were his favorite, but the guy had a pair in every color. When it came to matching shoes with his outfits, I aspired to be like him. Ninety-seven percent of the time I wore my clunky boots.
They went with everything, right?
Me: We’ll be there in like 10
“He’s going to meet us there. You about ready to head over?”
“You didn’t want to buy anything?” She dropped the belt she’d been fingering and joined me by the hats.
“No, I don’t think so. This is definitely my kind of store, but my bank account is pretty sparse. I’d either need to ask my dad for money, which I will never do.” I paused. “Outside of college money. Or…I’d need to start working somewhere.”
“Why don’t you get a job?” She fell in line with me as we left the store at a leisurely pace.
