“So is that why you looked so thrilled about this outing when I first asked?”
“Well, let’s just say I can think of other ways I’d rather spend our time together, but I’ll get through it.”
• • •
“What do you think?” Brooke asks as the salesman holds up a pair of men’s jeans with really narrow legs. I’d be very irritated with how close this guy is standing to Brooke, but when we approached his area he was practically grabbing another guy’s butt, so I’m not overly concerned. Besides he spent a little too much time assessing my body to figure out what style and size would work on me, so I’m pretty sure he’s pitching for the other team.
I’m having trouble focusing because there are so many distractions here in Fred’s collection of individual boutiques. To start with, our salesperson’s name in this one is not Joe or Bill or Dave, but Ransom. What the hell, kidnapper dude? I really wish he was out somewhere on a casting call rather than trying to help Brooke make me hip.
I turn back towards her to see that she’s holding up a tiny pair of jeans.
“Is that one of those pairs of skinny jeans? Seriously, I get claustrophobic just looking at them. I may as well just wear tights and go for the superhero look.”
Brooke makes a face at me.
The salesman, who confuses me again by being the straightest looking gay guy, gives a wry smile. “I don’t blame you. They’re a bit restrictive. I don’t care how stretchy the fabric is.” He reaches for another style and checks the tag for sizing. “What about these? They have a great fit. They’re True Religion.”
“Holy jeans? Well, that’s a new concept. But they’re still too small looking.”
“You always wear your jeans baggy, Nathan,” Brooke says. “This is a chance to try something new. Besides, they’ll show off your great butt.”
Great butt? She really likes my butt! I can’t help smiling.
The salesperson nods with conviction, and I pretend I don’t notice. He also hands me a dress shirt to try on.
“Okay, I’ll try them on for you, Brooke.”
When I tentatively step out of the dressing room I can tell by their expressions that they’re pleased. I’m not sure about the fancy looking shirt with colorful stripes and this freaky print with weird little shapes lining the collar and cuffs.
“Why are there amoebas on this fabric?” I ask, showing her the cuffs. “It looks like something under a microscope.”
“Those are paisleys.” She laughs. “You weren’t joking about not being into fashion.”
“You can say that again,” I say to Brooke. At least she looks pleased…actually, really pleased. Her expression makes me think she’d like to join me in the dressing room for some fun. Well?” I ask holding out my arms. “Is this what you had in mind?”
Ransom lifts his hand and makes a motion. “Turn,” he says. As I pivot and am halfway around, he stops me and lifts up the bottom of my shirt. “Perfect fit,” he concludes.
I’m guessing my butt looks great.
“Yes,” Brooke agrees with a heavy sigh. “You look so handsome, Nathan. None of the girls will be able to resist you tonight.”
Great, the girls won’t be able to resist me. What about you Brooke?
My nerves are completely frayed. I have no idea what’s really going on.
“Okay, we’re done.” I say to Ransom. “I’ll take them.”
He nods briskly as I head back to the dressing room. I don’t even care at this point what this will cost me, I just need to get out of here and away from Fred’s shrine to fashion. If Brooke keeps admiring me I’m going to pull her into the dressing room so we can make out, and send all the over-priced jeans hanging around us tumbling to the floor.
Luckily Brooke’s shopping seems less traumatic for her than my experience. She refuses to let me see what she tries on, so her personal shopper, Noelle, sends me to the gift boutique where they have an eclectic selection of art and design books to occupy me. But as I notice her enter the gift shop to find me, it’s evident that she wasn’t in the dressing room too long before she picked something out. Nothing better than a decisive woman, I think to myself.
“Can I buy you lunch?” She asks coming up alongside me as I flip through a book about deviant art.
I turn and smile at her, relieved that the earlier heaviness has lifted. I put the book back on the shelf and linking her arm through mine, she pulls me to the café in the next area. We set our bags alongside the table, open the menus, and get situated. As soon as we’re settled, I turn towards her.
“Can I hold your hand?” I say.
She smiles softly at me, and I feel her hand graze my thigh under the table until it finds mine. Her fingers curl into my hand and I gently rub my thumb across her soft skin. I feel instantly calmer, happier.
The waiter comes up and I’m grateful to be able to order a burger, even if it is infused with pesto. Brooke orders one of those girly salads and despite the distraction, doesn’t let go of my grasp. I study her face and the way her lips turn up when I gently squeeze her hand.
“Brooke, can I ask you something?”
She nods at me, wide eyed.
“Is it really important to you how I dress?” I point at the bag with my purchases. “‘Cause no matter what I wear, it’s still me inside. You know I don’t care about clothes and stuff like that.”
She looks surprised by my declaration. “I’m not trying to change you, if that’s what you think,” she replies. “You just never seem to understand how attractive you are. I thought maybe wearing something special tonight would make you feel good. You were so confident at the Emmys in your tux.”
“Screw the clothes. What makes me feel good is when you look at me the way you did that night, and just now when I stepped out of the dressing room.”
She tips her head, considering what I’ve said and a look of worry shadows her expression. “I should be more careful. It’s just hard for me to hide my attraction to you.”
“But I liked the way you looked at me, it made me feel wanted…it felt good,” I argue.
“But I was going to start controlling myself. Until I get my situation straightened out, my attraction to you and our physical relationship just confuses everything.” She gently eases her hand out of mine and places it on the table, then fiddles nervously with the silverware.
I feel frustration fire up in me. I know this is Arnold’s influence. “But I don’t want you to stop being with me.”
She looks down nervously and takes a sip of water as I persist with my point.
“Remember when our friendship got off track and you wanted to stop touching me before? I couldn’t stand not seeing and being close to you and you missed me too…didn’t you?”
She nods solemnly.
“Well, that just didn’t work, and it won’t now either,” I insist.
I can’t resist asking the obvious. The timing of her new reticence about us immediately followed her getaway trip. “Is all of this because of Arnold? Did he say something to you while you were in Santa Barbara?”
“Yes,” she admits, her expression getting very dark.
“And…”
“Nathan, listen to me. I’m trying to work some things out and you can’t be in the middle of it. But meanwhile you need to stay as far away from Arnauld as possible. Promise me.”
“I wish you’d tell me everything and let me help you. I’m not afraid of him.”
“Well, you should be.”
“What’s he holding over you Brooke because frankly I don’t understand why you’re with him at all? What aren’t you telling me? Did you even want to go to Santa Barbara?”
“No, and I should’ve refused. We ended up arguing most of the time.”
“So it wasn’t romantic?”
“Hardly,” she huffs.
“You know Nathan, the honest truth is that since we’ve met, all I’ve done is distract you and pull you into my mess with Arnauld. Here things were moving along with you and Dani and suddenly I’m the one you’re spending time with, opening up sexually with. I’m comfortable for you, an older woman involved with another guy, showing you the ropes. But I’m not the type of girl you really want, the kind of girl who’d be good for you.”