Page 49 of Studious
He shrugs. “I enjoy shopping, especially if I have a goal. And we have a goal. We’re also going to have help, so it’ll all go smoothly.”
I’m beginning to realize that’s part of the issue. So many times I haven’t asked for help because I thought I could—or should—do it on my own. And when I did ask, I asked the wrong person.
Now I have this whole support team, and I like it. First, we go to Danny’s tailor, who agrees that the crotch of my suit pants was too low and the jacket’s sleeves were too long. I guess I’m not going to dress like the host boy from my date with Sumner. That seems so long ago, even though it’s only been a few weeks.
Next, we drive to a boutique on Melrose, and like Danny’s hair salon, once I step inside, it’s not as scary as I feared. Danny has a good eye for my comfort levels, because this place is hip, but not so fashionable that I feel entirely out of place. I can see myself wearing some of these clothes.
The guy working there bounces out from behind the counter, all flirty with Danny, and I bristle.
But then he turns to me, equally welcoming. I almost look around to see who he’s smiling at before I realize it’s me.
So I lift my chin. “Hey.” I try for nonchalance.
“My friend Alden here needs some new clothes,” Danny says. “Quirky chic, so I figured this place was perfect. Can you help us?”
“Oh, absolutely. Let’s get you some fabulous outfits.”
Soon, the two of them push me into a changing room with a pile of clothes in my arms and start bringing me more items, one after another.
I try each one on. Even the things I think I’d hate.
And I discover that I love wearing bright red jeans. I feel amazing in a velvet blazer. I step out to show an outfit to Danny, who’s sitting on a bench outside the changing room. “These pants fit well,” I murmur, turning around.
“They do,” he agrees. “They make your ass look biteable.”
I put a hand on my hip. “Really?”
He stands and takes a step toward me, grinning. “Makes me wonder yet again why you’ve never been kissed. You’re way too sexy.”
“I think you’re the only one who sees it.”
“Not true. The salesman sees it, too.”
There’s a look in Danny’s eyes. I must be mistaken, but it’s almost like he’s going to kiss me.
But that’s absurd. I just don’t know the signs.
I step back into the changing room. Danny follows me in to help grab clothes I’ve tried on and rejected and make space for more.
Without thinking about it, I drop my pants to try on the next pair.
But then I remember Danny is standing right here. Heat flashes in his eyes as he looks at me in my tight T-shirt and briefs.
“I knew you had that secret,” he murmurs.
“What secret?”
“You wear very nice underwear. I noticed it when I undressed you at my house.” He holds up his hands. “I didn’t touch, other than the minimum to get you comfortable. But”—he grins—“you look really hot.”
I feel warm all over at his praise. “I, um. Thanks. Just because I don’t know how to get a guy doesn’t mean I don’twantto know. You know?”
“I get ya.”
I can’t do anything but nod, because my dick is starting to chub up, and I don’t want him to see. I bend over and pick up another pair of pants to try on, and Danny makes a stifled sound.
“I’ll wait for you out there. Let me know what you decide on.” He slides through the curtain.
After I finish trying on what seems like everything in the store, I pick out the items I like the most—several pairs of colored jeans, a few patterned shirts, and two slim-fit blazers, and take them up to the counter.
