Page 87 of The Wishing Game

He glares at me.

"You too." I turn to Cer. "You need more casual clothes. Same goes for you, Thea. You can't walk around in a dress you stole from the theatre."

"You stole the clothes too," she quickly points out.

"And I can't walk around in stolen clothes either," I continue with a smile.

"Let's get that over with," Cer says as he stands up. Taking out a wad of cash from his pocket, he dumps it on the table. Thea and Ze stand up too, moving toward the exit.

I quickly run after them. "Uhm... That's not how you do it. You need to wait for the bill."

No one answers me.

* * *

"No." I shake my head vigorously. "That's not happening."

Cer and Thea are laughing behind us, giving me a hint into who the culprits behind this epic fashion fail might be.

"This has to go," I say as I jump up to grab the rainbow-colored hat off his head. "This has to go, too." I point to the washed-out overalls that are a few sizes too small. Even the shirt he's wearing is so tight on his torso the seams are about to burst.

"Are you having fun, guys?" I turn suddenly. Thea hides behind Cer, but she still can't stop herself from giggling. For themselves, they chose nice, proper clothes. Thea's dressed in a pair of thick tights, a white wool midi dress and a cashmere cardigan on top of it. Cer went for a pair of cargo pants and a sweater—all in appropriate sizes for him.

But for Ze... They really made a mockery of him, and I don't know how he accepted it.

"You look ridiculous," I mumble.

"He chose it himself," Thea chimes in.

I frown.

"You did?"

His lips are flattened in a thin line, his muscles straining against the flimsy clothing. Without saying a word, he raises his arm and points to something.

I blink repeatedly as I take in what he's showing me. It's the mannequin in the window, and it's wearing exactly the same clothes as him. Except, the mannequin is much smaller and skinnier.

"That's..." I take a deep breath. "That may be a good look for some people, but it's not for you. Come, we're going to find you some clothes that actually fit," I say as I grab the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him back to the clothing racks.

"But the shop seller said this is the latest trend," he finally speaks, his voice low. His eyes, too, are looking anywhere but at me.

"The latest trend doesn't mean it will work on you." I sigh.

"But—"

"No buts, Ze. We need to find you something else, and quick."

For some reason, he looks dejected as he follows me around the clothing racks. God, did he actually like those horrendous clothes? Not only were they not very nice, but they were not in the least flattering on him.

"But the shop seller said this is what popular people wear." He makes one last attempt at a weak protest, and I finally pause. Gazing up at him, I note a slight flush on his cheeks and none of his previous aggrandizing attitude.

"And you want to be popular?" I inquire softly.

"I... Forget about it." He shakes his head.

"I'm sure we could find something similar?—"

"No. Just forget about it," he repeats, his voice thick. His blank, arrogant expression is back on, and I have to wonder if I imagined that small glimpse of vulnerability on his face.

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