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It’s not like I’ve been staying away as I wait for her to beg me again, either. I still sneak into her house every night, and still watch her sleep for an hour or so before slipping away to study her journals back in my own room. I’ve combed those pages sothoroughly anyone would think I was conducting a psychological study on my little Shy Girl.
Knowledge is power. And knowing just how lonely she’s been this past decade–how desperate she is just for someone to stand by her and fucking stay there–it’s all the information I need to be exactly what she’s been yearning for.
Hence, I chose to message her this morning to ask if she wanted to go shopping for costumes. Dressing up for some garish Halloween event is not something I thought I would ever do while I’m still breathing, but I’m certain it’s what Shiloh’s perfect man would do.
And that’s exactly who I intend to be for her. I need her toneedme.
Pulling up to her house, I take a deep breath before exiting the car. Each step toward her door is a little heavy as I grudgingly realize I actually have to follow through on my promises. Fuck knows what anyone back in New York would say if they heard exactly how Dominic Blackwood is about to spend his Saturday. I rap my knuckles against the chipped paint, pulse quickening despite my best efforts to remain unbothered.
The door swings open barely a minute later, revealing my Shiloh in all her flustered glory. Her hair is chaotic as always, as if she'd been running her fingers through it waiting for me to show up. A light blush already colors her cheeks when she looks up at me.
“Hey,” she breathes, eyes darting away again with adorable hesitation.
“Hey yourself,” I return, letting my gaze sweep over her simple jeans and T-shirt. I’ll never understand how this woman looks fucking edible in anything. “Ready to go?”
She nods silently, grabbing her coat and purse before locking up. As we walk to the car, I resist the urge to reach out and takeher hand. We’re not alone in an abandoned house right now, so no doubt beady eyes are on us from all directions.
“So… costume shopping,” I say casually as I pull away from the curb. “Any ideas what you're looking for?”
Shiloh shrugs, fiddling nervously with the strap of her bag. “Not really. Something...appropriate, I guess. Um…on theme.”
I can't help but snort at her less-than-enthusiastic response. “Appropriate? Come on, Shy Girl, I thought this was your favorite day of the year. Live a little.”
She shoots me a glare, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Easy for you to say. You're not the one who’s going to be judged when everyone picks apart my theme ideas. If anyone is disappointed, Melanie will throw me straight under the bus.”
“True,” I concede with a smirk. “But that just means you have to blow them all away with a killer look. Go all out and maybe they’ll give you Melanie’s job next year.”
Shiloh shakes her head with a muted laugh, and we fall into an easy banter as I drive to the other side of town. I find myself stealing glances at her profile every so often, admiring the way the sunlight catches in her golden hair when she turns to look out the window.
Maple Street soon comes into view, a quaint little strip of boutiques and cafes not far from the High School. I park swiftly and round the car to open Shiloh's door, offering my hand to help her out. She hesitates for a split second before taking it, her palm warm against mine.
We head down the sidewalk in easy camaraderie, close enough that our arms occasionally brush. To anyone else, we probably look like two siblings innocently catching up after a long time spent in different States. Shiloh points out various shops, her eyes lighting up as she shares anecdotes about each one.
“And that's where I got my first job in junior year,” she says, pointing to a small bookstore. “I’m sure I spent more time reading than actually working. It was awesome.”
I chuckle. “Why am I not surprised?”
She elbows me playfully. “Hey man, I'll have you know I was an excellent employee.”
“Oh, I'm sure,” I tease. “A regular employee of the month, I bet. What were there, like two other teenage competitors?” Her laughter rings out as she shoves me again, leaving my skin burning beneath my clothes where I long for her to never stop touching me.
We eventually come to a stop in front of an eclectic boutique, its window display showcasing an array of elaborate costumes that have definitely seen better days. Shiloh's eyes almost pop out of her face with excitement.
“This is the place,” she says, already reaching for the door handle.
A little bell chimes as we enter, and I'm immediately assaulted by the scent of mothballs and stale perfume. Racks upon racks of garish costumes line the walls and create a maze throughout the store.
Shiloh dives in without another word, rifling through the options with childlike glee. It’s so cute I struggle to maintain an air of indifference, my instincts screaming at me to just grab her and hold her close. I trail behind her at a safe distance instead, occasionally plucking ridiculous pieces from the racks.
“What about this one?” I ask, holding up a gaudy, sequined monstrosity that might have once been a flamingo costume.
She turns, a shameless cackle bubbling up as soon as she sees it. “Oh hell, no. Hide that thing before someone goes blind.”
I grin, shoving it back onto the rack between two equally grotesque options. “Your loss. I think the hideous pink would've suited you perfectly.”
Shiloh rolls her eyes, but her easy smile doesn't fade. She continues her hunt undeterred, occasionally holding up other ludicrous eyesores for my opinion. With each comical exchange, I feel the walls she’s always trying to maintain between us crumbling brick by brick.
After a while sifting through the circus of bright fabric, Shiloh's arms are laden with potential costumes. I eye the pile skeptically.
