Page 31 of Better Than the Movies
“Promise?”
I felt grateful enough that she wasn’t pissed about my Wes shopping trip that I genuinely meant it. “Promise.”
She said goodbye and headed for the register, and the second she was out of earshot, Wes said, “Your pants aresoon fire.”
“Shut it.”
“I thought you guys were besties.”
“We are.” I rolled my eyes and gestured for him to push the cart toward the dressing rooms. “It’s complicated.”
He stood still and said, “How?”
“What?” I wanted to push him and physically get that big body going, as he still wasn’t moving.
“How is it complicated?” He looked genuinely interested. Could it actually be that Wes cared?
I sighed and groaned a little, running a hand through my hair. Part of me wanted to tell him about all of it, but Wes wouldn’t understand my grief any more than Joss would. “I don’t know. Sometimes I keep things to myself and it causes tension.”
Wes tilted his head. “Is everything okay? I mean, you’re okay…?”
His face was—I don’t know—sweetly concerned? It was a little unnerving, how sincere he looked, and something deep inside me didn’t hate it. I waved a hand and said, “It’ll be fine. And thanks for going along with it.”
“I got you, Buxbaum.” He watched me for a minute, like he was waiting for more, but then he winked and leaned on the cart. “You’re on my team now.”
“God help me.”
Hefinallywheeled the cart into the fitting room area and proceeded to drop into one of the waiting chairs, stretch his legs out in front of him, and cross his arms.
“What are you doing?”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Sitting.”
“But why? I’m not trying these on for you.”
“Oh, come on, Liz. If I’m responsible for making you over, I need—”
“Oh my God, you arenotmaking me over. Are you serious with that?” Sometimes he was beyond infuriating. “I’m taking youropinion into consideration, but I’m not pathetic and I don’t need WesBrosephBennett to make me over.”
He looked up at me with laughing eyes. “I think Michael was right about you being high-strung.”
“You’re impossible. Please go somewhere else.”
“How’re you going to know how they look if I’m not here?”
“I have eyes.”
“Eyes that okayed a waitress uniform for a party, remember?”
“That was an adorable dress.”
“Debatable. And does the use of the past tense mean it wasn’t salvageable?”
“No, there was vomit in the pockets. I said my goodbyes last night.”
He smirked at that and his dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Well, I’m sorry. It was an ugly dress, but it didn’t deserve to die.”
I rolled my eyes, and the fitting room attendant walked out from the back. “How many?”
