Page 98 of Claim Me
I pull out my phone, type a short text, then turn the screen toward Blue.
"Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I shouldn’t have acted like that, and I crossed a line. You seem like a really great person, and in any other situation I probably would’ve texted you back, but there’s someone else."
Blue says nothing.
I hit send, and the message goes to Benny.
About fifteen seconds later, a reply comes in.
"It’s okay. Thanks for being honest. If things don’t work out, you know where to find me."
I show the reply to Blue. He glances at it before saying,
"See? It’s always worth leaving doors open behind you, because unfortunately not every situation in life ends with the perfect result, Gabriel."
"It’s still too early for me to give up," I say quietly.
Then I turn and walk toward the window where I usually stand, to stare up at the sky.
It’s…blueand far away. Yeah. But people still learned how to fly through it.
Everything takes time.
We don’t bring the conversation up again for the rest of the day.
???
The upside is that the next day, the tailor himself finally shows up, Mr. Fredrick, looking a little pale from the food poisoning, but he’s an older beta, which probably means he’s immune to my so-called charms, if you can even call them that.
The tux is honestly incredible, and it fits me perfectly.
I’ve never worn anything that felt this much like a second skin, like it was made to move with me instead of just sit on me, but Mr. Fredrick somehow pulled that off like it was nothing.
"Please send me the invoice," I tell him, but Fredrick just waves a hand.
"Mr. Lowen already took care of it," he says with the faintest little smile, and I frown a bit.
Blue is there during the fitting too, and every now and then I catch him glancing at me.
Once again, he’s not super focused on his emails the way he probably should be.
"You look very elegant, and in my humble opinion, it fits you exceptionally well."
Fredrick’s face says there’s absolutely nothing humble about that opinion.
"Don’t you think, Mr. Lowen?" he asks, turning suddenly toward Blue.
To my complete and absolute shock, Blue answers without even pausing.
"On him, even a potato sack would look great."
Wait, what? Wow.
He actually said that!
Fredrick’s smile falters a little, because what Blue basically suggests is that the tux doesn’t matter, that it’s not the clothing that looks good, it’s just… me. The way I’m built.
So while Fredrick seems a little less pleased than he did a second ago, I can feel my face heating up.
