“I guess it’s official then, huh?” Theo’s voice floats above me and I look straight up to find him standing behind my chair, hands resting on either side of the back as he looks down. His hair is still damp from his post-practice shower, and he’s wearing his Welles Football polo shirt that hugs his chest and arms like skin. All three boys are dressed the same, representing their team well. Theo, though, manages to make Dockers and a polo look a cut above.
“That’s not the only thing that’s official, so we hear,” Brooklyn teases. She chews at the end of her straw and folds her legs up in her chair to get comfortable.
Theo chuckles and I study his expression, partly waiting for it to turn hard and accompany some biting comment to shut her down.
“If you’re talking about me officially pulling my head out of my ass, then yeah. That’s official.” He dips his chin and looks down at me again, offering a crooked smile that lingers with his gaze.
Morgan whistles.
“Really? All I do is look at her and that’s got you going?” Theo jokes.
“Maybe I’m trying to provoke you, Rothschild.” She arches a brow, like a challenge, and I laugh nervously. It’s weird to have everyone talking so openly about me and Theo, as anus.
Before I’m able to truly crumble with embarrassment, however, Theo moves his hand to my shoulder, then my neck as he stares down Morgan and bends at the waist, pulling my mouth up to meet his as his eyes close and he kisses me in front of every single human in the Ashwood food court.
Morgan whistles again, but I barely hear it. My ears have gone mute. I’m drunk and floating. Theo’s kiss drags on until Cameron finally can’t stand watching us, and he throws his hat at his friend.
“Dude, you’re being gross,” he says.
Theo’s lips leave mine and grin almost immediately. My heart is thundering in my chest. He runs his palm along my shoulder to my arm until, lifting my wrist, his fingers finally twine with mine. Then he picks up Cameron’s hat from my lap and tosses it back to him.
“You sure you want to get into a discussion about which one of us is gross? You have penicillin growing under your bed.”
Cameron shoots him a pointed glare as he slides his hat backward over his wild hair.
“It’s one dirty dish,Dad,” he quips.
I look to Theo and he mouths the wordfour, which makes me laugh.
“Come on, kids. We’re here to outfit our girl. Theo, we want your opinion,” Morgan says as she stands.
“Okay, naked. I choose naked,” Theo responds as I get to my feet. I shoot him a wide-eyed look, then bury my face in his shoulder.
“Oh, my God,” I say with my mouth on his sweatshirt-covered bicep. He laughs it off and Morgan chides him, calling him “classy” in her best sarcastic tone.
James and Cameron peel away from us before we get to the first store, and Brooklyn leaves us with Morgan in the women’s section while she goes to check on a watch she’s having engraved for her father. I let Morgan take control, gathering the choices she and Brooklyn decided were the best professional looks and leading me to the fitting room.
The outfits are literally ones I could borrow from her closet, but I guess it would be nice to have a few things to call my own. And I can’t exactly wear the Welles skirt and sweatshirt everywhere I go, though it’s gotten me through five years at this place.
My first few outfits are ones Morgan picked for my internship, and I feel a little unlike myself in them. Theo’s reactions sort of seals the deal.
“Looks fine,” he says to the second dress I show off in. It’s brown with small white flowers, and the only thing I like about it is that it doesn’t cling to my hips. I’m relieved that he doesn’t seem to think I look any better this way.
Morgan rests a hand on her hip as I shuffle my way back into the fitting room, though she tugs on the sleeve as I pass.
“I really liked this one,” she whines.
“Then you wear it,” Theo says, sandwiching himself into the tight space. He’s holding a yellow dress on a hanger, and he shoves it between Morgan and me. His gaze hits mine and his lips twist into the sweetest smile. “You look good in yellow.”
“Nobody looks good in yellow,” Morgan declares, pushing him out of our space with a palm to his chest. I’ve already taken the dress in my hand, though, and am heading back to my fitting room.
I step out of Morgan’s pick and put it back on the hanger, then unzip the back of the dress Theo picked. It’s more like me, plain but bright, with sleeves that hug down to the elbow. The fabric is stretchy, almost like my workout clothes but more professional. I step into it and work it up my body, then stretch to tug the zipper up my back, getting it most of the way up. I crack the door open a smidge and peek through in search of Morgan, but Theo steps into view first.
“Zipper?” I ask.
He looks to his side and holds up a hand, I’m guessing to Morgan, then checks the area around us before slinking into the fitting area.
“I don’t think you’re allowed back here,” I whisper.