Page 34 of Forged By Shadows

Twisting the throttle, we shoot out of the garage, skidding hard onto the street. I’m glad I didn’t have time to eat breakfast. The stench of burnt rubber surrounds us as Garrett’s laughter vibrates beneath my palms. Thankfully, once we hit the main roads, he morphs into a very competent driver. We reach our destination with all of our limbs intact. Our destination being a shopping mall.

“You woke me up early to go shopping?” I ask once free from the helmet. Garrett takes it, chaining the pair of them to the bike.

“Not just shopping. Dress shopping.”

“Dress shopping?” I echo back, delayed when he takes my hand and tugs me through the empty parking lot. “What do I need a dress for?”

“For the Ball, you silly goose.” Garrett laughs at some internal joke. “I need to make sure you’re looking good for my boy.” I sigh. Our fingers are intertwined as we walk through the automatic doors.

“I’m so confused by the dynamics here.”

“They don’t need to make sense. If you wanted conventional, you probably shouldn’t have a crush on your stepbrother.” I stop still, a gasp torn from my throat.

“I do not!” I shout in outrage. Garrett rounds on me, his arms folding over his chest.

“You’re telling me, you’ve never used that cute little pink vibrator Axel was telling me about while imagining it was Wyatt’s tongue?” My eyes widen further as I look around for anyone nearby. Luckily, the mall just opened and no one else thought Wednesday morning was an ideal time to venture out. Provoked by Garrett’s smug smirk, I square up to him, prodding my finger into his chest.

“For the record,” I growl and narrow my eyes. “My vibe is bigger than what you’re packing.” Garrett leans back to laugh, attracting the stares of shop clerks and a curious security guard. Winding an arm around my shoulder, he urges us to keep walking and drops his mouth to my ear.

“They don’t make molds girthy enough, Peach.” I’m left with that mental image as we seek out a spot of breakfast first. Garrett urges me to pick out whatever I want, even though I have to get my own tray. There’s no room on his amongst the pile of bagels and pastries. Once we reach the cashier, he produces a credit card and flashes it at me. I just about make out Wyatt’s name before Garrett pays. We sit in the middle of the food court, surrounded by empty tables and eat until we can’t stomach another bite.

“This is literally the worst thing to do before a dress fitting,” I lean back and stroke my food baby. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so full. Not that Nancy, the manor’s cook, would let me gorge on so many syrup-soaked waffles at the start of the day.

“I’m in no rush,” Garrett holds up his coffee. I tilt my head at that, looking beyond the mask.

“Avoiding something?” I ask. Garrett’s interest in his cup suddenly becomes forced. He pries off the lid, swirling the steaming liquid inside. I wait patiently, knowing out of the two of us, Garrett is the one who will break the silence first. Finally, he groans and drags a hand down his face.

“I’m avoiding Axel.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a fucking coward.” Downing the rest of his coffee, Garrett lets every last drop patter his outstretched tongue before coming back to me. “I went looking for him last night and I saw you both…having your moment.” He fakes a gag and I roll my eyes.

“So what?”

“No, it’s nothing. Just…I mean, Axel usually relies on me after a nightmare but this is perfect actually. He needs to start moving on. It’s best you see him at his lowest. Make sure you know how to handle it before I…”

“Before you, what?” I lean my elbows on the table. Garrett is at a loss for words for once, so uses his fingers to mime himself running away. Exasperation puffs out my cheeks. “You are the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“That is deeply offensive,” Garrett touches a hand to his chest. Stacking our plates, I busy myself with clearing away. I reckon I’ve figured out what it means to be a Shadowed Soul. You have to be stubborn to a fault, unable to see past your own damage and a terrible judge of character. Sure enough, the entire lot of them have misjudged me in one way or another. Typically by underestimating the strength I’ve spent years building brick by brick.

“You’re so certain you’re going to fail Axel. Maybe instead of pushing him away, you should pick out a suit and take him to the Ball yourself.” I twist my lips. Garrett chuckles, preparing to move on from this conversation.

“You’ll be a better match for him. We have shopping to do,” Garrett pushes to his feet and offers me his hand. I accept it, but refuse to leave just yet.

“Last question,” I state. A glint returns to Garrett’s brown eyes as he stands close enough to force my head back. “Why does it have to be me or you? Why can’t we just…see what happens?” With my hand in his, Garrett’s smile turns sad. His thumb strokes my wrist.

“That was two questions, Peach. Come on, I’m ready to see you strut around for me.” I drop the topic from then on. Whatever Garrett is working through with himself, a brief chastising over breakfast isn’t going to change his mind.

We carve a path through the mall and up the escalator, Garrett seeming to have a destination in mind. A beautiful shop tucked away in the corner. Behind the window displays, thick blinds have been pulled down between the glass panels and the interior. I’ve barely stepped inside when a cheery sales assistant pops up.

“Good morning,” she beams with a wide smile. Her hair is swept back, not a strand out of place. In a simple button-down uniform, her name tag labels her as ‘Tasha’. “Can I help you with anything today?”

“Please,” Garrett smiles that mischievous smile which means I’m going to hate what he’s about to say. “This lovely lady needs a dress to take my boyfriend on a date.” I call on every shred of inner strength to remain impassive. To her credit, Tasha’s smile only dips for a second. I step between the two of them, gesturing to the store.

“Ignore him. He chats shit to shock people. I need a dress for a ball at our university. Nothing too dark, it washes me out.” I throw a pointed look at Garrett, daring him to disagree. He finds a low suede sofa and sits with a flourish, his leg crossed over the other knee.

The boutique specializes in ballgowns at first glance. Sorted by color, rails poke out of the walls with long, glittering gowns resting on their hangers. Between each set, sits a stand of coordinating shoes, bags and jewelry. Tasha asks a few questions about my usual likes and dislikes, takes several measurements and ventures off to select suitable dresses. My fingers trail the sequin and lace gowns, a flurry of butterflies coming to life within.

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