Page 50 of No Strings
Leaving them to it, I walk past the K-Mart and the Target. And go straight to the surf shop. I haven’t stepped in one in years. I’m not sure what’s still relevant, but then I see the familiar names: Billabong. Rip Curl. Quicksilver.
I make my way to the bikini section, with one goal, Rhys’s wallet is heavy in my back pocket. Okay, so two goals. Find something to tease Rhys with, and spend his money.
Normally I don’t show much skin, well conditioned not to show too much more accurately. But with how Rhys was teasing this morning, he deserves it.
And I find the perfect bikini set.
I pick it up and go try it on. The crocheted top fits perfectly. I’m not overly blessed in the chest department; but they aren’t overly small either. The way the top hugs the curve of my breasts has my confidence growing.
I try on the bikini bottoms and swallow the lump that suddenly formed. It shows off more ass than I thought it would. But I remember goal one. Tease Rhys.
As I walk past the accessories, I suddenly remember goal two. Spend Rhys’s money.
By the time I make it to the cashier, I have a new pair of bikinis, a new towel, a sarong, a pair of thongs and a crocheted tote bag.
The girl behind the counter looks me up and down. I try not to let her bother me, but I can’t help but pick at everything. I’m in ripped denim shorts and a white tank top. Without thinking I run my hand through my hair. It’s probably uneven, since I cut it myself.
I force a smile while I place everything on the counter, “Hi.”
She just purses her lips and starts scanning, while I try not to let this interaction bother me.
“That’ll be three hundred and seventy-seven dollars.”
My eyes grow wide; this was a mistake. She smirks at me. And as much as I want to put her in her place, I can’t spend three hundred and seventy-seven dollars. What was I thinking?
Just as I’m about to tell her I only want the bikini, the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Rhys.
Cashier girl sees him and immediately turns into the friendliest person to ever grace the earth. She rearranges her boobs, and plasters on the biggest smile I have ever seen.
I can’t help but roll my eyes at her antics. Yes, he is good looking, better than good looking. Sharp jaw line always covered in a five o’clock shadow, full lips, those forest green eyes, he’s gorgeous. Not that I’d ever tell him that. Then you throw in broad shoulders, arms that are covered in tattoos, which are currently being shown off. The man is a woman’s walking wet dream. Not me though.
Some part of my mind laughs at me. I ignore that though. Because I can feel him closing in.
“Three hundred and seventy-seven dollars?” The timber of his voice seems to quieten my racing thoughts.
“Yeah, no I was going to prove a point?—”
“By spending three hundred and seventy-seven dollars?” He asks as the girl behind the counter looks at us in disbelief, as if someone of Rhys’s calibre could or would be with me, then she crosses her arms and once again purses her lips.
“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth. I take a breath, “But it’s three hundred and seventy-seven dollars, so I won’t be doing that, and I’ll just get the bikini.”
Rhys pushes right up to my back and rests his chin on my head. I take a deep breath as one hand snakes around my waist, pulling me tightly to him. I can feel the panic ebb away, until he says “Nah, get it all.”
I whisper ‘what?’ He ignores me, his free hand moves to pluck his wallet from my hands and pays for my purchases.
I’m still lost in what just happened, that when Rhys says, “Yeah no, I won’t be calling you.” I feel like I missed a whole conversation.
I look at them in confusion, but Rhys turns me around. I don’t miss the way she glares at me, though. And we leave, he carries my purchases in one hand while his other is slung over my shoulders. I leave it there. I try telling myself because it’s to prove a point to the bitch back there, and not because I like the way I feel having Rhys claim me as his in public.
We don’t say anything on the way out but when we get back to the car, I shrug his arm off me and look up at him. “What just happened?”
“She wrote her number on the bottom of the receipt, I said no. That’s about it.”
That’s about it? Okay, yeah sure. Wait, no.
“I mean, with the paying for my shit.” I point to the bag.
