Page 56 of The Holy Grail
“I couldn’t help it, because you were just staring into space.” She gave what was obviously an exaggerated impersonation of him gazing into space. “Makes me really want to know what you were thinking about.”
“I didnotlook like that.” He knew this for a fact because there was no way in hell he looked like that big of an idiot while thinking about a blow job. No way. “And I wasn’t thinking of anything, really.”
“Sure you weren’t.” Jules looped her arm through his, and just as he thought shewasgoing to ask what he’d been thinking about (because she was proving to be rather tenacious), she abruptly changed the subject. “Time to go find some shirts.”
After heading to the area of the store showcasing all the shirts and sweaters, they decided to split up to cover more ground.
“Let’s meet back here in fifteen minutes,” Jules said and immediately took off.
Like the seasoned shopper she was, Jules had amassed a giant armful of shirts (and a few sweaters) by the time they were supposed to meet, even though she’d spent a lot of that time discreetly watching him wander from rack to rack. At one point, when she glanced over, it was to see that a pretty, female salesperson had approached him. Jules assumed it was on the pretext (legitimate or not) of seeing if Malcom needed any assistance, but it was clear he was politely telling the woman he was fine on his own.
However, she seemed reluctant to take him at his word, and while Jules wasn’t feeling threatened in any way by the lady’s interest, Jules was starting to feel irritated onMalcom’s behalf, who was looking slightly uncomfortable. She was on the verge of getting involved when, to her amusement, Malcom actuallydidget her involved by pointing in her direction, realizing as he did that she was watching the whole episode. Now he looked a little unsure, as if he thought Jules was going to lose her shit over the sales lady, but Jules disavowed him of that notion by smiling and blowing him a kiss, then going back to searching the rack in front of her, all while ignoring the saleswoman.
When they met up a few minutes later at the appointed time, she didn’t even mention it. Instead, she gave his findings a look of disbelief. “Are you serious?Fourshirts? That’s all you found?”
He looked at her stockpile with equal disbelief. “Areyouserious? How many shirts do you have there? Fifty? We’re going to be here all night.”
Rather than responding to his ridiculous claim, she quickly led the way back to the dressing room, because the thirty shirts she was holding were pretty heavy. Inside the small space once again, she tossed everything down on the bench before sitting down and reprising her role as a judge.
This time, Malcom wasn’t as self-conscious as he undressed, although her unwavering gaze on him and his bare chest brought all kinds of life back to his cock. He started with her shirts first, since she’d dumped hers on top of his (probably on purpose) and after the first three he decided Jules was indeed, an excellent shopper. They were shirts he wouldn’t have looked at, because they were in colors other than navy, gray, and black (like the ones he’d picked out), but found himself really liking them. Not only did they look good, but they also brought a look of feminine appreciation to her face.
The fourth shirt had him pausing because it was a graphic T-shirt, with Pink Floyd’sDark Side of the Moonalbum cover on it. Holding it in his hands like it was something off a runway, he gave her a questioning look.
“You have a bunch of their albums, so I figured you were a fan,” she said.
“I am,” he confirmed, oddly touched at what was really a simple gesture, but felt like so much more.
“There weren’t any Donna Summer shirts, otherwise I would’ve snagged one of those, too,” she added, with a hint of teasing in her voice.
He chuckled and tried the Pink Floyd shirt on, not shocked when it fit like a glove. He was starting to actually enjoy himself when he came to a light pink, button-down shirt. The sight of it had his smile fading and being replaced with a pensive frown.
Jules noticed the change immediately. “I know it’s pink, but I think it would look great on you, with your coloring.”
Malcom swallowed hard, stunned that the sight of the shirt had him floundering … and borderline anxious.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
A few seconds later, he felt her take his hand and pull him down next to her, the shirt still clutched in his hands. He turned his focus on her, seeing she was obviously confused at his reaction. “When I was in the tenth grade, I bought a shirt almost exactly like this one.”
“Okay. And?”
“And I was going to wear it for picture day because I thought it would look nice. Pastels were kind of a thing at the time, but anyway, my father saw me in it at breakfast and wasn’t … pleased … with my choice. He demanded I change into something else.”
“He wasn’t pleased because he didn’t like the shirt itself, or he didn’t like it because it was pink?”
“Because it was pink.”
Jules had a feeling she knew where this was headed, but remained silent, so Malcom could continue telling his own story.
“He told me it was too feminine, and only girls and, uh, gay men wore pink—”
“Oh, my God, that’s so not true.”
“—and he said he knew I wasn’t a girl, but ...” he trailed off, clearing his throat.
“But what?”
“But he was beginning to wonder if I was gay.”
