Page 63 of Filthy Elites

“No problem. See you around,” he says, and then runs across the street.

His grandfather shakes his head, making a disapproving sound in the back of his throat. “Learned nothing.”

“Well, we should get going,” I say. “Thanks for the water.”

“No problem. You have a wonderful day.” He waves and goes inside.

I wait until we put some distance between us and the store to ask, “Who was that guy?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before.”

“He’s cute.”

Sage’s face becomes bright pink again. “He is? I didn’t notice.”

Didn’t notice my ass.“Do you think he’s a local?”

“Maybe."

“We need to find out where he goes to school.”

“Why? Are you trying to get over Jason?”

Ah hell.I guess she could mistake my comment as an interest in the guy. “Oh, he’s not for me. A bit too young. I was thinking maybeyouwould like to see him again.”

Her expression closes off.Shit, I went too far.

“I don’t think so.” She stops suddenly and announces, “This is it.”

Grumbling because of my failed attempt to make Sage forget Justice, I follow her in. Inside is a bit of a mess. There are tables of different sizes, heights, and shapes covered with all sorts of accessories and pieces of clothing. Against the walls, the racks are filled to the brim with colorful gowns, tops, and pants. It seems there's no rhyme or reason to the organization here.

“Wow. Where do we start?” I ask.

“Welcome to Alice’s Closet. How can I help you?” a friendly sales assistant greets us from behind the counter.

“We’re looking for evening gowns,” Sage replies.

“Oh, you’re lucky. I just received a shipment from LA. They’re from an editorial shoot, so they’re amazing.”

She walks around the counter and guides us to the back of the store, where gowns hang from a mobile rack.

“Aren’t they gorgeous?” She beams.

“Yeah,” Sage replies absentmindedly, already distracted by the chiffon, tulle, and silk.

“Let me know if you want to try any on.”

“We will, thank you,” I say.

Sage pulls a sheer bright red gown with gorgeous embroidered flowers on it from the rack and holds it against my body. “This would look stunning on you.”

I try not to grimace. Red is my favorite color, but I can’t wear it now. It’d be like wearing a neon sign. “It’s lovely, but I don’t need a dress.”

“Would you at least try it? For me?” she pleads.

“Fine.” I take the gown from her. “But we’re shopping for you.”

“I know.” She keeps browsing until she finds a light blue chiffon dress that would make her look like Arwen fromLord of the Rings.

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