Page 25 of The Boyfriend Boycott
We’re going on a date. A fake date, mind you. At least to me. Grady seems to think otherwise, despite my best efforts. I’m mentally contemplating the ugliest possible outfit I could wear to deter him when he interrupts my thoughts as if he could read them.
“I think I’m sufficiently outfitted. You Queer Eye’d the shit out of me today. I need to repay you,” he says.He can repay me by staying the hell away before I completely cave,I think, but I refrain from saying. “Let’s find you something nice to wear.”
“Oh, I don’t need anything. This trip was for you.” I wave him off.
“You’ll need something to wear on our date.” Before I can protest, Grady has me by the hand and is leading me towards a far too fancy, and far too expensive, store. “Pick something out for yourself.” I glance around nervously.
“You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to spend money on me, really. This place is way too expensive,” I point out, noting the way the saleswoman is looking me up and down, assessing my financial status by the distressed jeans and Birkenstock sandals I’m wearing over bunched-up wool socks.
“I can spend whatever I want on you. Besides, this is the only way I really enjoy shopping. I hate looking for things for myself. But for other people …”
I scrunch up my face as I weigh Grady’s suggestion. He’s gone along with my prodding today, despite his initial pushback. If all he wants is to buy me a dress, the least I can do is try oneon. Besides, it might be fun to play dress up. Even if I’m not going to let him buy anything.
I peruse the racks, looking for something that might catch my eye. My gaze stops on this stunning boatneck ruched midi dress. The pattern is a faint tie-dye of pastel pinks, purples, and rusty orange. It’s gorgeous.
“Try it on,” Grady says, following my line of sight to the dress. He picks it up and hands it to me, and I reluctantly accept.
“Just this one, but you’re not getting it for me.” Grady shrugs like it’s not my decision anyways, and I glare at him as I make my way to ask Judgy McGee for a fitting room.
I pull the dress on and zip up the back with ease, the fabric conforming to the shape of my body. I turn around, twisting to look at how the back accentuates my curves, and I decide not to leave the fitting room and show Grady. Sure, the dress lifts my ass in a way that defies gravity, but I actively stay away from anything figure-hugging. To other people, I have a great body; I’m tall and relatively lean. But when I look in the mirror, all I can see are the flaws.
“Come out and show me,” Grady says through the curtain.
“No,” I say.
“Look, I had to show you all the clothes I tried on.” I can tell by his voice that he’s standing directly on the other side of the thick curtain, waiting for me to open it. Which I won’t.
“I’m going to take it off now,” I say, reaching my hand over to grab the zipper when Grady swings the curtain to one side. “Hey!” I squeal. “What if I had been naked in here?”
“Well, you’re not. And it’s nothing I haven’t seen anyway,” Grady says teasingly, but his face falls when he stops to take me in, standing in the dress he practically forced me to try on.
“It’s a little too snug, don’t you think?” I start. “I would need some military-grade Spanx if I’m going to pull this dress off.”
“Spencer, you look …” Grady’s voice trails off, and I know it’s because he can’t find words that won’t hurt my feelings.
“It doesn’t matter how I look, you’re not buying it for me anyway.” I check the price tag once again and see a couple too many digits before the decimal point. “There’s no way.”
Grady stands up and comes over to meet me by the mirror where I’m twisted around staring at the price tag on the side of the dress. His impossibly large hand pushes mine away from the tag and covers it as he rests his hand on my hip.
“Spencer, there is nothing too expensive when it comes to you. Look at all you’re doing for me.” Grady is standing close behind me now, looking at me in the mirror over my shoulder. His eyes roam over my reflection as he takes in the curves of my body. “I know I’ve been resistant to change, but the feeling I had today when I was trying on the clothes you picked out for me… I see it now, how much of a difference it can make to your confidence when you put in a little effort. I have more hope today than I did yesterday that we might be able to make a difference for Heartwood. That’s all thanks to you.”
I don’t speak the words that I have on the tip of my tongue because Grady has dipped his mouth down to my ear, and I can no longer think about anything else but his breath on my neck as he whispers, “So you’ll let me buy this dress for you. Not just as a thank you. But because you look so fucking stunning in it that I’m fairly certain it was made for you and only you.”
CHAPTER 11
GRADY
Spencer has fallen asleep nextto me in the passenger seat. It must be true about what they say, that if you want kids to fall asleep on a car ride, get them McDonald’s fries. Spencer finished hers about five minutes into the trip back to Heartwood and it was only another five before her head was lolled to one side, mouth open. That pretty little mouth. What I would do to that exquisite mouth.
She rouses as we turn off the highway and the vehicle slows through the exit.
“Have a nice nap?” I ask as she lifts her hand to her mouth to check for any drool.
“What time is it?” she croaks, her voice groggy.
“Ah, almost five,” I answer. Spencer looks around, a little disoriented.
“I’m fucking starving,” she says, and I bark out a laugh.
