Page 109 of Impossible

“Street style is fine,” Joshua answers this time. The lady looks at him. I think she drools. I can’t blame her. He is something to look at. The spark is back in his eyes, twinkling blue with mirth as he notices the effect he’s having on her. Leon’s gruff brawn is one thing, Joshua’s sensitive lankiness is another. Both beautiful, but very, very different.

We arrive in the land of teenagers, bubblegum pop and pastel colors everywhere and a frightening array of clothing that ranges from flowerchild to motorcycle gang to boudoir. “Ok, do you know her sizes?” the sales lady asks.

“We’ll take it from here.” I flash her a glossy smile and have to bite back a laugh as I get my own once-over.

“Ok, just flag me down if I can help with anything.” She looks uncertain about leaving us in the midst of the other teenage browsers.

“Oh, we will,” Risk simpers. She turns to him and blanches. I realize she smells like rice. Dry rice. How forgettable. She scampers off when Risk bares his teeth at her.

“I can’t tell if she was attracted to you, frightened of you, or frightened of her attraction to you,” Joshua muses to Risk as soon as she’s out of earshot.

Risk imagines the options as checkboxes and methodically checks each one off in his mind. His arms circle around Joshua’s waist and pull him close, then venture down to squeeze his ass. Joshua gives him a quick kiss before pulling away. I’m already scanning the sales floor to see if anybody saw the PDA—only the horrified sales lady is watching, and that only makes me smirk. Otherwise we’re all clear.

“Focus.” Joshua pulls away. “Indie. I was thinking we should just stick to basics right now. Simple things. We don’t know her style, we just want her to feel more presentable. We can take her out shopping to choose her own things… later.”

The zing of restlessness ricochets through the bond. Leon’s good hand instinctively reaches for Joshua, and Joshua reaches back. Their fingers graze for just a moment before dropping again, and I can’t stop the senseless wanting that slashes through me at the sight. They didn’t need a reason. They just… touch. What am I waiting for?

“Ok,” I say, covering the weakness with words. “Let’s each grab, what, one or two things? Then reconvene.”

“It’s not a mission, Hollis,” Leon grumbles. “We can shop together.”

Irritation flashes, but I shove it down. Duh.Together. That’s what this trip was meant to be, right?

“Of course,” I acquiesce.

“Thoughts?” Risk is already holding up a leather-looking corset thing.

“Absolutely not,” I growl.

“ForJoshua,” Risk smirks.

Joshua rolls his eyes and holds up a knitted cardigan instead. “She gets cold a lot, maybe this?”

“If they have a matching one for guys, you should get it,” Leon says softly.

Joshua hides his smile, keeping the hanger.

“What about leggings?” Leon asks. “All girls wear leggings these days, right? We should get her a few sizes.” He does his best to sort through the hangers on the rack, but some of them are caught on each other. None of us miss him wince when he tries to use his stump to separate them, nor the accompanying flash of anger and shame in the bond. Risk slides in without a word, extracting three different sizes. He holds the tiniest up in front of Leon and squints, cocking his head. The bond is rife with the image he’s creating, effortlessly glossing over Leon’s shame with a picture of him inverytight black spandex.

“Gross!” Leon laughs, but he’s leaning in and hooking Risk with his bad arm, giving him a nuggie, and then Risk is imagining the horrid leather corset thing on him as well, and the image is hilarious and ill-fitted and Joshua is snorting as well.

I realize that people are staring at us, watching as Risk leans up to kiss Leon on the cheek immediately after doing the same thing to Joshua. All I see are curious eyes and whispered words and I feel my cheeks grow hot—what are they thinking? All these normal people, oblivious to who and what we are. We probably look creepy, grown men shopping in the teenage girls’ section and displaying over the top affection for each other. What if somebody from the Board of Governors is here, and sees my pack behaving so foolishly? A mother huffs at her daughter, re-hanging their shopping on a random rack before hurrying away, shooting us dirty glares over her shoulder. We’re making a scene.

I turn to my pack, opening my mouth to snap an order to behave, but what I see gives me pause.

Risk is holding up a maroon velvet bodysuit, posing provocatively, and Leon has his arm over Joshua’s shoulders as they eye the piece like they’re art critics, all furrowed brows and mock seriousness, but Joshua is struggling to hold back his beaming smile, and I realize… they’rehappy.

The order lodges itself in my throat. The thought of ruining something so beautiful is abhorrent. In the midst of everything, with Indie’s heat on the line and parts of the attack still raw and everything about our once glossy future thrown into chaos, they’ve snatched some joy. And here I am, about to rip it all away.

Risk noticed the mom ushering her daughter down the aisle. He pulls a long skirt from a rack and holds it over himself like a mumu, mimicking her shuffling gait perfectly with mock disgust on his face. Joshua and Leon laugh loudly, Leon’s deep boom and Joshua’s melodic tenor, and something inside me twists.

The only audience Risk has ever cared to perform for is standing right here. And I try to perform for the whole damn world. Why did I ever think my way was better? Why did I ever care more about the opinion of some random beta prude at the mall than my own pack?

I turn and look at the racks around us. There’s a grey pencil skirt on one and I grab it. “How about this?”

The guys all stop what they’re doing and look at the skirt.

“Oh honey, no.” Joshua’s voice is teasing, but my cheeks are red as I shove it back on the rack.

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