Page 116 of Pucking Matt
“Thank you,” I say as I step out. “Am I going to make us late to anything?”
He shakes his head. “We have time. They elope at sunset on the beach.”
“Okay, so nothing for my feet,” I say, thinking out loud.
We walk into Target and immediately hit with the fun little random section at the front. Why do they always have the cutest things here? And now that I havemaking babieson my mind (thanks Riley), I notice all the cute things for kids. One day, I will be shopping that section proudly. I glance at Matt, curious if he’s ever thought about having a family. I don’t want to ask him though because it’s an intimate question. I am trying to get to know him better but asking him futuristic questions may not be a good idea. For most men, it’s not.
“Do you want to change your bandages?” I ask because it’s bleeding through.
He peels it off and I wince at the sight. “I’ll let it air out.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “It looks bad.”
“It feels fine. We’ll buy bandages when you’re done.”
“Okay,” I say, walking into the women’s section. “Look at this. They have white!”
I grab the wide-legged pants and find my size. I hold onto it as I walk to the white tees. I grab it just in case. I never know what’s going to look good on versus on the floor. And I can’t take any chances.
“That was quick,” he says, pointing at the clothes in my arms. “Is that it?”
I chuckle. “You’re such a guy.” I shift a few pieces of clothes on hangers. “No. This is just to try on.”
“There’s more over here,” he says while I dig for my size of this white tank top.
I make my way to him, taking my time.
“What size are you?” he asks.
“Medium.”
“These are numbers,” he says, moving the hangers around.
I walk over and he’s found a white jean skirt. “This is actually cute.” I hold it up, realizing that I don’t shop for cute clothes enough. I add to the pile in my arms.
“What about this?” he asks from behind me. It’s a white button up with thin white fabric, meant for office wear.
“I’m a medium in that right there,” I say, pointing at the wall.
“What is this?” he laughs as he walks over. “A bra?”
“No, it’s a tube top.”
He sifts through it until he finds my size. “Okay, you’re trying it on.”
I try to take it from him, but he pulls it above my head where I can’t reach. “Give me your clothes.”
I hand the clothes over, smiling mischievously.
“What?” he asks.
“Boyfriend material,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. His eyes meet mine, and for a fraction of a moment, the air is charged, buzzing around us.
His face softens as he shrugs.
I walk over to the dresses. “They have a white dress.”
“Just try it on.”
