Status: Finished.
Ebony and Irony
4
My legs felt lanky and awkward as we walked down the bustling sidewalk, arm in arm, eyeglasses shading our views, making mine purple tinted. I'd grown over our horrific few months, and it was summer. I detest warm weather, especially in New York. Tons of people wearing things they shouldn't be in stifling hot weather is not my idea of a good place to be.
"There?" I shrugged as he dropped his finger, muscling our way through the throng of business people and beggars alike to the doorway of the large shopping center. We were in dire need of clothing items for the sudden weather change, and clothes to accommodate our growth changes, damned be both. I hate being tall, even though Claude towered over me still.
Inside, the air conditioning was set to the perfect knob of cold, and we removed our tinted lenses to scan the aisles of cloth and the swarms of killer sales people. I smirked as he dragged me past a horde of at least five of them, all looking us over, and I remarked loudly about the excessive amount of clothing for the weight challenged people of the city. So what if I'm not nice, it was New York.
"You're terrible," he commented, angling us in a bee line for swimming apparel and dragging me with more force once I dug my heels in the ground. Me in a bikini was not as lovely of a thing as Claudio might comment it is; he often lies to me for my self esteem.
"Poppycock, dear Claudio," I announced loudly to at least half of the older women as we passed in a tone to adoptively mock their lifestyle. "I'm but a mere realist."
He snorted, alarming a small child enough to fall into his mother's handbag that swallowed him whole, and tutted me. My wrist began to ache from being dragged in resistance, so I led the way, feeling his smile light my way through assholes. Muttering obscenities, I reached a rack, and stood from it as far as proximity allowed me. And Claudio, of course.
"Come now, this wouldn't be utterly hot on me?" he asked, holding out possibly the skimpiest bikini of the store, and modeling with a pout face. I covered my face in shame and tried to slip away before he caught me, threw fifteen things at me, and all but came with me into a changing cubicle. The boy could be better than my homosexual right-hand man sometimes.
"You're bullshitting me, right honey?" I asked, walking out in the piece of clothing he'd modeled in the public eye, if you could even call it such, and dropping my facade of snooty behaviour. It covered next to nothing, and made my cheeks flush to even think about wearing it, let alone put such a thing on. When he wolf-whistled, I bolted back to the cubicle and stayed there, advising myself for a good half an hour at least, before coming out, fully clothed.
"You, my dear friend, are an utter and complete bloody asshole, do you know that?" My eyebrows shadowed my narrowed eyes at his tall figure until I found his grin and stalked off, placing all garments on the rack marked "Discard".
I left the whole damn store, forgetting my compatriot in the meantime, and aimed for something more my taste and less... tasteless. I pushed through male and female alike, until I reached the mall, nearby, by coincidence, and walked straight to the only Gothic apparel store inside, a Hot Topic on the second floor. Muttering evilly, I picked out a striped swimsuit of two pieces, and held a smirk when I spotted Claudio walk in, caught on unawares. He scanned the crowd for me, and I let him find the back of my head as I slipped into a changing room, darting back out to him with a satisfactory smile as his jaw dropped.
"And this is why I let you dress me some days," he told me, breath gone from his lungs as he looked me over like, well, a jerk, to be honest. My cheeks flushed as he stared, and I slowly meandered back to my cubicle, embarrassment taking over.
"Since you like it so much, you're buying," I told him over the black wall in the changing area as he caught my clothing item, left to pay, and returned as I exited, bag in hand.
"Shopping went well?" Mrs. Sanchez asked, eying the two bags in her son's hand as I rode in on his back, and upstairs before he shouted down a "yeah".
Sometimes, the boy had absolutely no manners at all.
"There?" I shrugged as he dropped his finger, muscling our way through the throng of business people and beggars alike to the doorway of the large shopping center. We were in dire need of clothing items for the sudden weather change, and clothes to accommodate our growth changes, damned be both. I hate being tall, even though Claude towered over me still.
Inside, the air conditioning was set to the perfect knob of cold, and we removed our tinted lenses to scan the aisles of cloth and the swarms of killer sales people. I smirked as he dragged me past a horde of at least five of them, all looking us over, and I remarked loudly about the excessive amount of clothing for the weight challenged people of the city. So what if I'm not nice, it was New York.
"You're terrible," he commented, angling us in a bee line for swimming apparel and dragging me with more force once I dug my heels in the ground. Me in a bikini was not as lovely of a thing as Claudio might comment it is; he often lies to me for my self esteem.
"Poppycock, dear Claudio," I announced loudly to at least half of the older women as we passed in a tone to adoptively mock their lifestyle. "I'm but a mere realist."
He snorted, alarming a small child enough to fall into his mother's handbag that swallowed him whole, and tutted me. My wrist began to ache from being dragged in resistance, so I led the way, feeling his smile light my way through assholes. Muttering obscenities, I reached a rack, and stood from it as far as proximity allowed me. And Claudio, of course.
"Come now, this wouldn't be utterly hot on me?" he asked, holding out possibly the skimpiest bikini of the store, and modeling with a pout face. I covered my face in shame and tried to slip away before he caught me, threw fifteen things at me, and all but came with me into a changing cubicle. The boy could be better than my homosexual right-hand man sometimes.
"You're bullshitting me, right honey?" I asked, walking out in the piece of clothing he'd modeled in the public eye, if you could even call it such, and dropping my facade of snooty behaviour. It covered next to nothing, and made my cheeks flush to even think about wearing it, let alone put such a thing on. When he wolf-whistled, I bolted back to the cubicle and stayed there, advising myself for a good half an hour at least, before coming out, fully clothed.
"You, my dear friend, are an utter and complete bloody asshole, do you know that?" My eyebrows shadowed my narrowed eyes at his tall figure until I found his grin and stalked off, placing all garments on the rack marked "Discard".
I left the whole damn store, forgetting my compatriot in the meantime, and aimed for something more my taste and less... tasteless. I pushed through male and female alike, until I reached the mall, nearby, by coincidence, and walked straight to the only Gothic apparel store inside, a Hot Topic on the second floor. Muttering evilly, I picked out a striped swimsuit of two pieces, and held a smirk when I spotted Claudio walk in, caught on unawares. He scanned the crowd for me, and I let him find the back of my head as I slipped into a changing room, darting back out to him with a satisfactory smile as his jaw dropped.
"And this is why I let you dress me some days," he told me, breath gone from his lungs as he looked me over like, well, a jerk, to be honest. My cheeks flushed as he stared, and I slowly meandered back to my cubicle, embarrassment taking over.
"Since you like it so much, you're buying," I told him over the black wall in the changing area as he caught my clothing item, left to pay, and returned as I exited, bag in hand.
"Shopping went well?" Mrs. Sanchez asked, eying the two bags in her son's hand as I rode in on his back, and upstairs before he shouted down a "yeah".
Sometimes, the boy had absolutely no manners at all.