Page 45 of No Escape

I bet we do look creepy.

Two guys in their late twenties shopping for a dress for a homecoming dance?

Fuck.

There’s no way we don’t look shady.

I really fucking hate this job.

Actually, the only part of the job I don’t hate is Saylor.

The door pops open, and her big hazel-blue eyes meet mine.

Stepping back, I give her an encouraging smile.

I’m already worried how she’ll handle the crowd and how loud the music will be at the dance.

If she had a decent boyfriend or partner who would watch for her cues, then I wouldn’t be half as stressed.

Saylor struggles in large crowds because of her social anxiety. She’s almost always fine one-on-one or in a small group, but the dance will be packed with people.

Who’s going to remind her to put in her earbuds if the music or talking gets to be too much? That spoiled little dick isn’t going to grab her and lead her to a wall or corner, so she can breathe through the anxiety.

Saylor pulls the door back, showing off the fitted light blue dress. It’s a silky material, but the entire top has silver gems or stones that turn into cascading lines that fall down her hips and waist at different lengths.

I’m sure there’s a name for the style.

I just don’t know what that name is.

The hem reaches the tops of her feet, which is a nice, modest length. Except the front is a V that dips a little too far down her sternum.

It’s far from the most revealing thing I’ve seen the other shoppers try on, but my fists clench.

Yeah, I’m probably going to end up killing Ben. That little bastard is going to try his luck, and Shaw and I will have to murder him. If I had a little sister, he’s exactly the kind of guy I would scare away.

“What do you think?” she asks with a waver in her voice as she glances between us.

Shaw clears his throat. “It’s nice. You look beautiful. Does the other dress happen to have a turtleneck?”

I don’t think the dress will matter.

Saylor is gorgeous, and I feel like a dick even letting myself acknowledge that, but it’s plain to see.

She laughs, looking at Shaw. “No turtlenecks in the entire store. Sorry to disappoint.”

“How do you feel about a shawl? Can I interest you in a parka? I hear it’s going to be chilly on Friday.” I grin, winking just so she knows I’m kidding.

The senator and Mrs. Callahan don’t pay an ounce of attention to her unless it’s convenient for them. It’s not like Shaw or I have any real authority to veto her homecoming dress choice.

“Do you like it?” she asks, giving me an exasperated look. “I need a guy’s opinion. Is it frumpy? Some of those dresses were way too scratchy. I thought this one would be a problem, but I ended up really loving it.”

I nod. “It’s perfect for you.”

And I’m probably going to hell because all I want to do is pull her into my arms and hug the shit out of her.

If she had parents who gave a fuck, she wouldn’t be so unsure of herself. It took a while to notice it, but now that I’ve seen it, it’s impossible to miss—she’s so fucking lonely all the time.

And there’s still not a goddamn thing I can do about it.

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