Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I prepare to argue when the sound of a woman gagging from one glance at my tattered backpack ceases my ability.
Hey, I know the shit is old and used and worn, but it’s the best I can do. It’s the best I’ve been able to find.
“Archer, look at me.” Her commanding tone reminds me of an officer naturally forcing my body to respond to the instruction. “If you wanna wait in the car because you’re uncomfortable, okay. I will respect that choice. You are a person whose feelings matter, and you, too, should have your boundaries respected. However, if you think you need to wait in the car because I’m uncomfortable, let me make this Cat in the Hat clear for you.” An unexpected stern expression crosses her face. “I don’t give a shit about what others think. I know better than to just judge a book by its cover. And people are exactly like books. We all have stories. We all have chapters. We all have pages that some are interested in exploring while others miss out. And I will choose to continue going on adventures with you for however long I can.”
The sentimental nature of her statement swells my chest in indescribable ways.
How can one person be so fucking…compassionate?
Sweet and thoughtful and affectionate responses eagerly bounce around my brain waiting to be picked yet like my mouth has a habit of doing, it speaks playfully without consent. “You’re really into the idea of touching my spine, huh?”
Jaye blushes, loudly snickers, and teasingly swats at my chest. “For that, you can push the cart.”
“Was gonna ask to do that anyway.”
“Uh-huh,” she good-naturedly brushes off prior to pointing to the left. “Clothes are that way.”
Getting to the men’s section is thankfully an easy feat that includes an odd amount of breakfast cereal discussion during the process. All conversations regarding our shared secret love affair for the types with the most sugars – which we both weren’t allowed to indulge in often as kids – are immediately stopped and exchanged for much more intimate ones.
I’ve never been shopping with a chick before. My ex – yeah, the one that fucked me over – never did anything like this with me or for me for that matter. Fuck, she never even bought a shirt for a gift.
“Ohhhhhh,” Jaye enthusiastically squeaks holding up the fourth thick, turtleneck in a row, although this sweater is green instead of white, “what about this one?!” She presses the material against the front of my chest forcing me to choke down a moan from her light touch. “It says warm but fashionable.”
“It says Ken Doll.”
Her face instantly frowns at the comment. “It does not.”
“It does.”
“It does not.”
“It does.”
Another small cringe occurs as she moves the sweater back to the rack. “Maybe like an army Ken Doll…”
“You mean G.I. Joe?”
Her gaze cuts over to see me smirking prompting her to grow one too. “You don’t have to be a G.I. Jerk.”
I can’t help myself from wincing at the terrible joke, which thankfully only makes her giggle again, a sound that’s almost too beautiful to be heard by the masses.
“Okay, so is that a no to all sweaters or just these sweaters?” She turns her frame to completely face me once more. “Do you hate sweaters? Would you prefer button downs? Polos? Long sleeve polos?! Graphic tees?” Jaye folds her arms across her chest. “What do you prefer?”
“I don’t.”
She tilts her head in a challenging nature.
“Warm?”
The firm expression remains.
“Sweetheart, I haven’t had to buy clothes in…” my speech drifts off taking my eyes with it. “Fuck…forever?” Another uncomfortable feeling roots itself in the pit of stomach pushing me to make eye contact again. “Look, whatever you wanna buy me – or don’t buy me – is fine. Ken Doll accessory shit included.”
Her slow headshake stirs the feelings in the worst ways. “No, Archer. We are going to get you something you like. You’ve had plenty of what fits and what’s available. What is something you want to wear? To be seen in?”
“Seen fucking where, Jaye?! Your living room?!” Realizing how harsh my outburst unintentionally was has me rushing to do what I get the feeling I’m going to be doing a lot. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m-”
“Dinner.”
The initial response stuns me silent.
“Or the movies.”
Seeing her shoulders push back as she straightens her spine to stand up to me…for me…is almost too incredible to process.
“Or – let’s be real for a sec – one of the many, many bookstores in this city. Or maybe bowling. Or to see holiday lights. Or to grab a drink. Or hell, I don’t know, maybe grocery shopping.” Her hand waves around to underline her point. “I’ve answered your question. Now, answer mine.”
The firmness in her tone causes a part of me to get firm in the wrong way.