Page 25 of Botched

“Uh-huh?”

Theo walks over to one of his bags and unzips it, pulling out a bundle of fabric and holding it out to me. “I had my gear maker put this together for you. Hopefully, your measurements were right. Ifigured your other gear was…lacking. It was very amateur and babyface, and that’s not the image that we want to give off.”

Biting my tongue at the backhandedness of his comment, I snatch the clothing from him with a huff. The first thing I unravel is a top. It’s a very simple black cropped tank with some harness pieces that would fall over the tops of my breasts. There’s a built-in bra for extra support. Okay, not bad.

What surprises me is the second piece—a pair of parachute cargo pants. They’re black too with a neon pink trim. The total opposite of the shorts that I usually wear. When Theo said that he had gear made for me, I expected him to go heavy on the ‘sexy’ aspect. This comes off as functional and comfortable.

I’m speechless.

Theo leans against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. That annoying, almost charming shit-eating grin is on his face. “Just so you know, I’d accept a kiss as a thank you.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “It’s going to take a lot more than this to get me to kiss you, Theodore.”

“So…you’re saying there’s a chance?”

I wince. I did just imply that, huh? I have no intention of kissing him. I don’t hate myself that much. My self-esteem isn’t so low that I need his attention to make myself feel better. My reply comes off as a soft hum.

More surprisingly, Theo doesn’t push. Usually, when he sees an opening, he doesn’t stop trying. “Whatareyou wearing tonight?” he asks, gesturing toward my bag as an unspoken instruction to show him.

“Oh.” Carefully, I lay my new gear on the couch, treating them as if they’re so fragile they’ll shatter the moment they touch. After unzipping my bag, I pull out a pair of black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder white top.

Theo’s nose wrinkles. “I don’t love it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean, it’s cute, sure. But we need to look more…cohesive. We can’t do that when the shirt I’m wearing clearly costs more than your entire outfit.”

Ah. There’s the Theo I know and despise. “Well, some of us aren’t fucking rich, Theo.”

He rakes his fingers back through his brown curls and sighs. “No, I know. That came off way too douche-y, even I can admit that. Here.” He reaches into his back pocket, grabs his wallet, and pulls out a sleek black credit card. He hands it to me, making a wave of confusion wash over me. My brows knit together and Theo shrugs. “Take this. There are boutiques downtown. Buy something that matches me. I don’t give a shit about the price. Take Juliette if you want. She can buy something too.”

I blink once. Twice. Fully letting myself process what I’m being told to do. Go buy clothes. He wants me to buy myself something to wear with his card. It was the last thing I expected, and I’m left with a dilemma. Do I do it and feel like I owe him something for the rest of forever? Or do I wear what I packed in the first place and feel inadequate the entire time?

A sigh escapes me as I reach out and gently pluck the piece of plastic from between his fingers.

Theo’s been on TV longer than me. He knows better.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I like the city, I don’t love the boutiques. So far, most of what I’ve found in Savannah has skewed toward the aesthetic of a southern housewife who wakes up every morning and makes lemonade and biscuits from scratch. Not a bad thing, just not what I’m going for.

Jules is driving her rental; I’m navigating. Every shop I’ve navigated the two of us to has been a total bust.

“All right. Last stop. If we’re late for hair and makeup, Shayna’sgonna get all bitchy. She has a tight schedule,” Jules says as she pulls into a parking spot along the cobblestone street.

Willow trees swoop down, shading the road and the surrounding shops. The store we’ve stopped in front of is red brick, in the middle of a strip between a coffeeshop and a naturalist shop. The dresses on the mannequins in the window don’t look promising. I have to find something. I don’t want to go back and deal with Theo bitching because he doesn’t like my outfit. I don’t want to see the look of displeasure in his eyes.

Wait.

Why the fuck do I care if Theo is displeased?

I shake the thought away as Jules pushes the door open. A golden bell chimes above us as we’re greeted by the scent of lavender. The girl behind the counter holds up a hand in greeting but continues to sip on her latte, not offering much assistance. It’s not a big store. There are scattered tables in the center filled with accessories, and racks of clothes line the walls.

“Let’s get digging.”

Jules and I start on opposite ends, working our way through the hangers to meet in the middle. She holds up a skater dress. It’s pink with hypnotic rainbow swirls all over it.

“Cute, but I don’t think that’s what Theo was thinking.”

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