Page 32 of Better Than the Movies
“A few,” Wes muttered at the same time I said, “How many can I take in at a time?”
“Eight.”
“Only eight?” Wes’s voice was loud in the tiny dressing room area. “Come on, that’s going to take forever.”
I ignored him and took eight items to a fitting room. The third top I tried on, a slouchy white fleece thing that fell off one shoulder in a way that would look adorable with a tank underneath, was actually cute. I paired it with faded jeans that had shreds all over them, and I was glad Wes had suggested this.
He’d managed to find me something trendy that I liked; I couldn’t believe it.
Just as I was switching into an emerald-green sweater, I heard him say, “Can you possibly change a little faster? I’m falling asleep out here.”
“Don’t you have some shopping to do while you wait for me? I think I saw a sale on obnoxious jock costumes in the back.”
“Ouch.” He whistled. “You’re so mean.”
“Give me two minutes and I’m done.”
“Seriously?” He sounded shocked.
“Seriously.”
“But you’re only on the first eight.”
I pulled off the sweater and put my shirt back on, sliding my feet into my shoes while straightening my hair in the mirror. “I got what I needed, so there’s no reason to keep going.”
He seemed doubtful when I came out, like he didn’t trust my answer, but when we got to the register, he looked like he approved of the items I’d selected.
“I still can’t believe I’m taking fashion advice from you. I feel like this is some kind of rock bottom.” I handed my debit card to the cashier and looked at the small stack of clothing on the counter.
I pointed at the shoebox sitting right beside my clothes. “Those aren’t mine.”
“I have great taste. I’m like your own personal fairy godfather.” Wes gestured to the shoes. “And those are my contribution.”
“What?”
He leaned an arm on the counter and gave the cashier a smilethat said,See what I’m dealing with? “I know you don’t have any Chucks, Libby, and you definitely need some.”
“You bought me shoes.”
“Not shoes. Chuck Taylors.”
I looked at his funny smirk and had no idea how to react so I reached out and opened the box.
Wes Bennett had bought me shoes.
No boy had ever bought anything for me, yet here was Wes, the antagonistic neighbor boy, spending his own money because he thought I needed Chucks. I touched the white canvas. “When did you even have time to do that?”
“When you were in the dressing room.” He looked sweet as he smiled down at me and said, “I asked Claire to take care of it.”
“Who is Claire?”
“The dressing room attendant. Pay attention.”
The cashier handed me the receipt and my bag, and I was still fumbling around with how to react. It was sweet and thoughtful andsoun-Wes. “Um, thank you for the shoes. I—”
“Quit gushing, Buxbaum.” He smiled big enough that his eyes squinted. “It’s embarrassing.”
We left the store, and before we hit the mall exit, I made him go into Ava Sun with me, my favorite store. It was like Kate Spade style on a T.J. Maxx budget, mostly dresses and skirts and delicate accessories.
