Page 60 of Angel
Chapter Eighteen - Paige
Ten Months Later
“Oh… My… God,” Sophia gawked from the other side of the men’s underwear stand.
My heart jumped and I hurried over to her. “What? Are you okay?”
“You have to get Angelo these.”
A silk pair of men’s boxers decorated with red chili peppers dangled from her hand.It’s hot in here, bloated text adorning both the front and the back of the underwear said.
“That’s a waste of silk,” I blandly stated. “Such a great fabric doesn’t deserve to be used in that way. And you scared me. I thought something was wrong.”
“Relax. You’re being paranoid.”
I turned away from her and busied myself with the cotton briefs. “No I’m not,” I said to a shelf so that my twin wouldn’t see just how much her comment hurt.
“I’m sorry,” Soph said after a minute. Her head poked around the stand, fiery red hair just as perfect as when we left the apartment hours ago. “Let me buy you a hot chocolate to make it up.”
I tried to pout, but since I’m an awful actress my lips ended up in a contorted smile. “Don’t dangle chocolate in front of me. You know I can’t say no to that.”
“Department stores make the best.”
Giggling, I scooped up the three briefs I’d picked out. “I know that can’t be true.”
Falling into step with each other, we began lackadaisically walking for the check out. Sophia fingered some long wool dresses on a rack. They looked like something nuns might wear but no doubt Soph would be able to take one and jazz it up in a way that made it haute couture.
Jingle Bells came on the speakers, making it the fourth time the song had assaulted my ears that day.
“Ugh.”
“What?” Sophia asked.
“This song.”
“You used to love this song.”
“I guess I’ve just heard it too many times.”
We halted at the end of the line of shoppers. I craned my neck around, trying to get a rough head count of the people ahead of us. “Looks like we’re going to be here for a while.”
“Is that all you’re getting Angelo?”
I looked at the underwear in my hands. “No. Of course not.”
She adjusted the large pile of clothes in her arms. Someone needed to get my shopaholic sister a grocery cart. She had something in her arms foreveryoneshe knew, and likely had slipped a miniskirt in there for herself as well.
“What else are you going to get him?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
“How about a trip somewhere? You know, something the two of you could do together. Or even just an afternoon thing. There’s this cool new spa in Williamsburg. They offer these couples’ massages that are really unique...”
Her words took on a buzz then all out faded away. Nearby, a male mannequin dressed in a sweater and boots leered at me. Was it just me, or had someone turned the heat in the mall up way too high?
It had to be just me. I’d been increasingly feeling this way all month long. Or maybe before then. Maybe it started in November, once the Christmas tunes started cranking through New York. Every time there was so much as a suggestion of the holidays, I got queasy.
There had been a time when I loved Christmas.
