Gucci Gucci

That boy did not like to talk to me. Maybe it was just me, and how I came off, but he was just SO timid, it scared me. Even when people waved at him, and smiled, he stayed hushed from beside me at the party. Not one peep. I think the most he said at the end was, 'Nice to meet you'.

It was Sunday, and it was my day to go shopping. My day. I secretly went shopping without Helena on Sundays, simply because sometimes, I like to pick out my own clothes without having someone constantly nagging at my shoulder. Hell, she liked to criticize my makeup sometimes, so it was nice to go out by my lonesome.

"Ah, yes, Rory!" My mother shouted. I cringed at the sound of her voice; just from the tone, I knew she was going to ask me something. That troubled me. "How did you like the party last night?"

I shrugged, slipping on a pair of custom created Converse. Even though they're just Converse, it costs some more money than usual to custom create it. I decorated it with pictures of Marilyn Monroe, because she was just so damn beautiful.

"You remember the boy from last night?"

"Uh-huh." I said impatiently. "Mom, what're you getting at? Stop trying to smooth talk it in."

"Well, last night, your father said he was more attached to you more than anyone else in the room. Why not invite him over, do something fun?"

"You mean you want me to invite over some kid that I don't even know to have fun? What are your intentions here, mom?"

"It's just that it wouldn't hurt to try something normal for once."

"Who says I want to be normal?" I pouted.

"You should give him a ring, ask him to go shopping with you!"

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "Mom, you're asking a gay, cross dresser to invite over some stranger and go shopping with him. Do you realize what a recipe for disaster that is?"

"He's not gay!" My mom shouted defensively. "He has a girlfriend, perhaps, a soon to be fiancee. It would just be you trying to make friends with him." She peeked her head out from the kitchen. "And you are not a cross dresser."

"Oh yeah, I just like to dress up as a girl." I replied hastily. "I'm pretty sure they have a term for that -- criss dresser? I know it's starts with a 'c' and a 'd'. Oh yeah, CROSS DRESSER!"

"I told your father how much I dislike your 'hobbies'. He said he'd have a talk with you."

"Dad hasn't spoken to me, one on one, in, like, a week, mom."

"CALL THE BOY!" She shouted angrily. I raised my hands up defensively.

"Jesus Christ, I will then. But when he says no, I'm going to be so heartbroken." I replied with sarcasm dripping in my voice.

"If you're nice, he won't say no!"

"The day I'm nice will be the day you stop being a bitch." I mumbled under my breath, walking out of the front door and slipping my phone out of my pocket.



"So, what kind of music do you listen to?" I asked Jule. He stood behind me, his arm curled over his elbow in an uncomfortable position. He looked like he didn't even want to be here with me, but at the same time, he was the person who said yes! I was shocked myself, I figured after last night, he'd wanna spend as much time away from me as possible.

"Uh... I dunno. Just music." He shrugged.

I turned to take a glance at him. "Ah. My music is really awkward."

"Awkward how?" He replied.

"I dunno, you heard what I listen to!" I turned back to the clothes, pushing some shirts apart from each other to find a pink and white bar sweater. I checked the tag where the price said $63. I pulled it off of the rack and hung it over my arm.

"You listened to Foster the People. That band is far from awkward."

"It's a matter of opinion really." I said quietly. He nodded.

"Isn't everything an opinion?" Jule asked. I turned to him.

"Don't you want to buy some clothes? I'll pay."

"It's okay, really." He said anxiously. "Clothes shopping in public really isn't my thing."

"Oh, shut up and buy something." I grabbed him by his arm, pulling him over to the smaller sized clothes. He was a skinny little thing, so I expected he was just smaller sizes.

"Really? I-it's okay." He said quietly.

"Shut up. And pick something out." I huffed. I had about 15 or 16 shirts on my arm, and he hadn't a one.

Timidly and slowly, he reached out to the rack, pushing the clothes away as he searched through the shirts. He kept looking up at me with a grimace on his face.

"Yes, I'm usually this pushy." I said. He looked at me once more and his jaw dropped. "No, I didn't read your mind. I just know."

"Do people think that a lot?"

"They come to conclusions that I'm pushy because I'm gay." I said with a fake lisp in my voice. Jule giggled at me impression, pulling out a shirt to stare at it for a minute, only to shake his head and put it back. "So, when are you going to propose to your girlfriend? My mom said-"

"Ha!" He burst out laughing, covering his mouth as soon as he did so. I widened my eyes.

"What, you don't like her that much?"

"Believe me, I don't like my girlfriend." He shook his head, a smile of disbelief creeping onto his lips.

"Is there another girl?" I asked curiously. I just loved gossip like this.

"No. Not even." He looked over at me, pulling a shirt out from the rack. He smiled at it and placed it on my arm. "Can you keep a secret? You can't tell anybody." He pointed his index finger at me.

"Is it the fact that you have poor taste in fashion, because I really think everyone knows that by now." I grimaced at his shirt of choice. He scoffed. "Okay, okay, yes, I can keep a secret."

Jule took a few small breaths and then he looked back up at me.

"I'm not even straight." He said flatly. I furrowed my eyebrows together. "I don't like my girlfriend, she just keeps my secret hidden."

"What?"

"Don't you get it?" He replied. "I'm just pretending I know what I'm doing."