Page 131 of Wallflower

“It’s a good thing they’re your size then.”

I lift up the joggers in my hand. While they are identical to the ones hanging from Ripley’s hips, they are undoubtedly my size. “When?”

“What do you think I do all day when you’re sleeping?”

“Work?”

“Sometimes. Other times I’m thinking of all the things you’d look good in.”

“And matching pants are what you landed on?”

He shrugs, as what appears to be a blush spreads across the apples of his cheeks, though it’s hard to tell in just the moonlight.

Getting to my feet, I shimmy on the joggers as he watches with this odd look on his face. “What?” I ask.

“Put the shirt on.”

“Okay…”

I slide the soft black cotton up my arms, and over my head. Pulling the shirt out so I can see the image on the front.

“I’m rexy and I know it?”

Ripley explodes in laughter, and I soak up the sound of it like a dehydrated bitch in the desert. Locking it away to replay time and time again when my head gets too dark, and I think of eating those flowers instead of Shantel.

The lime green T-rex stands out against the dark colour, and the hot pink script is impossible to miss, but I don’t give a shit.Look how fucking happy he is.

“Should I expect whatever shoes you’ve purchased to be just as eye-catching as this lovely shirt?”

“Depends what ones you want to wear,” he replies, regaining composure.

“You pick, since I don’t know where we’re going.”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to ruin the surprise.

“Don’t tell me, just pick. I trust you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s not like you’re going to come back with a pair of mukluks for me to wear on a tropical island,” I joke.

“I just might, you never know.” He turns, heading across the large room to the closet. The door slides open and he stands there, staring at the floor, for far too long.

Quietly, I pad across the beechwood floor, coming up beside him.

“I can’t decide.”

“Why?”

“There are extenuating factors, and I don’t know how you’d pick without telling you.”

His indecision is so fucking adorable. I’ve never been cared for in this way, not that I can recall, anyway. “Are we walking or driving?”

He looks to me. “Walking.”

“Far?”

“No, like fifteen minutes.”