Page 58 of Fish out of Water
That was not the key to clarity I was hoping for. Especially considering how hard I worked to prove they were.
“Iamweird.” She smiled a little. “But it’s not a bad thing.”
It was a disappointing revelation. One that didn’t help me at all.
Because Julia’s brand of weird was different from what I was.
What I used to be.
“Come on, Banana Pants.” I turned to the kitchen, heading for the garage.
“Where are we going?” She didn’t move, forcing me to turn back.
To see the way she looked here. What she added to the grey life I’d created trying to prove I wasn’t what so many people had called me.
“I believe I owe you some underwear.”
* * *
THIS WAS A bad idea.
I was struggling before, but watching Julia hold up tiny scraps of fabric that barely qualified as panties might be what took me out.
Death by hardwood.
I watched in horror as she fished out a zebra print pair trimmed in narrow black lace.
“Are those really what you wear?” Part of me kept hoping she was fucking with me. That at some point she’d start cackling like the crazy person she was and go dig into the granny panty bin.
But Julia was choosing each pair so carefully that I was starting to lose hope.
“Why would I buy them if I wasn’t going to wear them?” She hooked a finger through two parts of the zebra-striped floss of fabric and pulled, stretching it in different directions. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Honestly nothing in my life made sense right now. I was in the lingerie department with a woman I couldn’t seem to make myself leave alone, buying her panties I should probably never see.
All because Vito can’t seem to act right.
Apparently it ran in the family.
I pulled out my wallet and handed over my credit card. “Here. Get whatever you want.”
I needed some air.
I shoved my way out the doors and onto the sidewalk, sucking in a breath as I paced down the row of shops.
Unfortunately the air wasn’t all I needed it to be. It was hot and heavy and smothering.
Like everything else felt.
The open-air mall that sat right at the edge of Sweet Side Bay was busier than I expected it to be this late on a Sunday afternoon. The place was set to close in under an hour and it was still packed with shoppers strolling along the open walkways.
Sweat started to stick to my skin, sending me into the closest shop seeking air-conditioned relief.
“Hey.” A man about my age stood at a rack of high-end dress pants. “Can I help you find anything?”
He was all I tried to be. Might as well be the idol I used when deciding I was done being ‘just a friend’ to every woman who crossed my path.
I was ‘sweet’.
