Patiently, I wait on the bench in the store, picking the dirt from my nails. After spending a considerable amount of time at the clothing store, I was finally able to narrow down a few outfits for Dominic. However, the salesman seemed to have a different idea in mind. He kept insisting on picking out outfits for him, despite my repeated objections. Eventually, he left to attend to another customer when he realised that I wasn't going to budge. I know Dominic's tastes and preferences better than he does.
As I'm browsing through the collection, I notice the curtain move slightly and see Dominic peeking out at me with an angry pout. It's a moment of hilarity for me as I see reluctance in his eyes, which I'm so used to seeing dull.
"This is too much colour," he complains.
"Just come out so I can see the outfit, Dominic," I plead while excitedly sitting up straight and my lips inadvertently tilt up. "I won't laugh if that's what you're worried about."
He glances down at himself from behind the curtain. The colour drains from his face as if the splatter of brightness is making him want to hurl. I roll my eyes skyward. He's actually being overly dramatic because the colours that I picked for him aren't even the brightest ones in the store. If I wanted to, I could've taken that yellow hoodie and paired it with the red jeans they had. I didn't though, because red jeans are a fashion reject and I'm not as evil as I'd want to be with Dominic.
"Besides colour makes you stand out and if you stand out then people will notice you, people like Jodie. She'll see that you exist and stop assuming that you're gay because she said that monotone colours are what makes you appear gay."
He scrunches his face in perplex.
"You apparently use dark clothes to hide the fact that you're gay. Don't know how, but I don't even want to ponder the technicalities around that." The short rant with myself ends promptly. "Besides isn't that what you want?"
He averts his gaze to the ground as endless thoughts and questions run through his mind, the agitated pout curling into a frown. He then mutters something under his breath which has something to do with regret and then he pulls the curtain aside roughly, standing there stiffly. He glances away from my fervent stare.
"Look at you," I exclaim loudly, the sides of my lips tugging up even more. So much so that my face almost splits into two.
He glances away from my wide-eyed stare.
"Seriously, take a look at yourself."
"Say more and I'll end you instantly," he threatens darkly.
I raise my hands in a surrendering gesture, hilarity running through my eyes.
For the first time ever, he is wearing a colour other than black or grey. I grew used to his monochromatic clothing choices, so seeing him in a different hue is a refreshing change. Today I have decided to break his usual routine and force him to wear something colourful.
It's a shade of cream white that I have never seen before, but it suits him well. The colour somehow brings out the brightness in his eyes, making them sparkle more than usual. I have always thought that black and grey are his signature colours, but seeing him in something different Infuriates me because it makes me realise that he can pull off anything without even trying. Albeit confident, he looks uncomfortable in his new outfit, and I can't help but feel proud of him for stepping out of his comfort zone.
He looks good.
Standing up, I slowly stroll over to him with awe covering my expression. Once I'm standing directly in front of him, I reach over to fix the collar of his jacket which is murky green.
I notice him tensing a bit under my touch, but after a while he forces himself to deflate, allowing his muscles to relax. The white t-shirt inside is tucked into his black cargo pants which are hugging his form not too tightly and bundled up at his ankles just like I told him to. The last thing finishing the outfit are his Nike sneakers which are also white. A black cap rests on his head.
My eyes fall on the black cap neatly rests on his head and after pursing my lips irritably, I tiptoe until I come face-to-face with him and pull his cap off, ruffling my fingers through his curls to fix the dishevelled mess and letting a few strands fall stylishly onto his forehead. His scalp is pulsating and hot under my cold hands and he flinches slightly, drawing his shoulders in like a scared child. I'm breaking a lot of boundaries right now, but I can't find the moment to even consider backing away.
The entire time I'm doing this, I can feel his heated stare burning into me, but I don't look. I just focus on the task at hand: making him look good and presentable for Jodie Dillon.
Dusting his shoulders off, I take a step back to admire my handiwork.
"Man, I am good," I whisper in a cocky tone and a smug smirk, looking him up and down with my hands resting on my hips.
He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course, you're gonna take credit for this."
"I have to," I say, smiling up at him after I have rested back onto my heels tiredly. "I have not only made you wear colour for the very first time but I have also made you look good in colour. You're welcome."
He shakes his head tiredly.
I place his cap on my head and tip it at him.
"I'm going to try on another outfit. You can go and find more clothes for me."
"Wait," I call just as he's about to turn around and my hand latches on his arm.
This causes him to glance down at the hand touching him with a dangerous glint shining in his eyes and I rapidly retract my hand, remembering the last few times I touched him.
I fold my arm over my stomach nervously. "Uh… what's your limit?"
"Limit?"
"Like how much money are you allowed to spend?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. It doesn't really matter. My parents have it covered."
"Right. Of course. You're rich. I sometimes forget that."
His eyebrows dip down as he gives me a look of bemusement when my lips purse a bit.
I back away and point at him with my index fingers. "I'll be right back with those clothes."
After travelling into a bunch of stores with me carrying more bags than Dominic was, for some peculiar reason, we decided that this was going to be the last clothing store we go into. He has tried on multiple outfits and most of them were a thumbs up. He does have me in his corner, so it was expected. I've given him the liberty to pick anything he wants to now; we bought a lot of colourful clothes.
I'm even surprised that his credit card hasn't been maxed out with the amount of money we spent.
His phone has been buzzing throughout the entire day, but he keeps on ignoring the caller and pretending like everything is all good. I know it's not. He's clearly avoiding someone. I don't want to pry though. We all know what that leads to in the end. I'm not in the mood for his grumpy, snappy demeanour. We've—and by that, I mean I've been polite to this point. He's been… pretty civilised besides demanding for me to carry his shit and ordering me around the mall.
Whilst flipping through the clothes I find myself in the underwear section, weirdly, and little ol' me discovers something hilarious. A sneaky smile makes its way onto my face. Excitedly, I rush over to Dominic and see him standing in front of a mirror staring at himself long and hard. He is trying to decide what he looks better in by placing a white shirt on top of the grey one he has on.
"Dominic," I call waving the item in the air.
He jumps and throws the shirt away abruptly. "What? Who said I like white? I don't. I hate it."
His reaction would have been funny if what I had wasn't even funnier. "Domi, look at this!"
He raises his head when I call him again, throwing his head over his shoulder and fluttering his eyes around wildly, looking for me in this huge store. When he spots me, his eyes widen widely at my running form.
"Wait, Starr. The floor is—"
Slip. Bang. Clutter.
"Wet," he finishes his sentence in a deadpan tone.
I murmur something incoherent even to myself with my eyes shut closed, a throb pricking the back of my head.
Maybe running around the store like a maniac wasn't such a good idea after all.
I peel an eye open and find Dominic looking down at me with not only concern but a smidgen of amusement. "It's not funny. What if I cracked my skull open or something?"
The hilarity in his eyes disappears when I glare at him scoldingly. "Why were you running?"
"Well," I raise the silky substance in my hand and show him, "I was thinking since we're doing the whole colour-changing thing, you'd appreciate some SpongeBob boxers."
He sighs, shaking his head in dismay. "You're an idiot, Starr. C'mon, get up."
"Ow…"
"Hurry up. You're bringing unwanted attention onto us."
He grabs the boxers out of my hands with a wrinkled nose and throws them on the bench dismissively. Taking hold of my arms, he pulls me into a sitting position. I rub the back of my head and blink when the throb hits me again. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a headache when I get back home. Maybe that will make my sickness more believable. Then Amma will not suspect me of lying to get out of going to church.
"Are you okay?"
I lick my bottom lip and nod. "Yeah."
"What have we learned from this experience?" He raises an inquisitive eyebrow like I'm a little, uneducated child who is being reprimanded by his father.
"That you need to hear a pun which will cheer you up?" I suggest, musingly.
"What?" he echoes out in confusion. He shakes his head in dispute. "No. No."
"Here it comes. Whether you like it or not."
He scrunches up his face, rubbing a defeated hand over his face like he is in mental pain.
"So a crazy wife says to her husband that moose are falling from the sky and you know what the husband says. He says it's reindeer."
Through his middle and ring finger, he stares at me for a very long time, nothing making its way onto his expressionless face.
When I open my mouth to explain the pun and put more emphasis on the reindeer bit, he cuts me off immediately by saying, "I think you're having a mild concussion. You did hit the ground pretty hard."
"Why you gotta kill my vibe like that?" My hand palms the back of my head as I blink sadly.
He shakes his head at my childish tendencies, rolling his eyes. "Come, let's get you some water. Then we can pay for these clothes and call it a day. I'm exhausted and you're delirious."
He pulls me up to my feet and I stumble a bit but the strong, firm hold that he has on my waist keeps me on my feet. I can't even focus on the fact that he's willingly touching me because once I am on my feet that's when the pain in the back of my head intensifies. I make sure to scrunch up his shirt in my grasp to prevent myself from falling if he suddenly lets go of me. He doesn't though which would normally perplex me but thinking is just too hurtful.
"Can we go and grab some food at the food court before we leave?" I ask, feeling my stomach eating itself painfully slowly but surely.
"You literally ate doughnuts not so long ago."
Blinking the dots playing in my eyes away, I step out of his hold and pout at him pleadingly. "But I'm really craving some Fan Tuan."
"Fan-what-now?"
"It's a Taiwanese dish," I explain to him. "It's like a… burrito-like roll of sticky rice. I like it with pork floss."
He slowly nods, squinting in confusion at my foreign words. "Sure. If they have that here."
"Are we going to buy the boxers?"
"No. We're not buying the boxers," he states with conviction staining his tone, the perplex now being replaced with revolt. "I'm not wearing some SpongeBob boxers. That's for kids." He turns around, heading in the direction of the till.
"I think they're cute."
"You have a weird definition of cute, Starr," he throws over his shoulder at me.