Page 22 of Buckle Up, Buttercup

“Hey, Bodice, what do you think? If he’s going to pack on ten or twenty pounds, will a stretchy jean fabric work, or do we need something like⁠—”

She rumbles happily, and I take that as agreement.

“Stretchy pants it is,” I say with a laugh. “Tell me what all you need, and I’ll take all of your measurements.”

“Sweatpants, hoodies, jeans, pearl-snap shirts and a couple tees too. V-neck ideally. Nothing I have at home fits at all.”

“‘Kay, stand real still for me, alright? I’m going to grab a notebook and take down all of your measurements. For an order like this, it’ll take about a week. Is that alright?”

He nods. “Yeah, for sure.”

Hopping down from the step stool, I grab a notebook and pencil, then return and set them on the floor next to his huge feet.

Back on top of the stool, I start with his neck, and move my way down to his shoulder and back. He’s quiet while I work, perfectly still and silent. When I move to his front and direct him to lift his arms, I try not to stare at the way his muscles flex beneath the too-tight shirt.

“Hold there,” I say quietly, taking measurement after measurement, which I add to the notebook. When I’m done up high, I move in front of him and wrap the tape around his chest. Working quickly so it doesn’t get awkward, I measure around the top of his chest and right beneath his pecs.

It’s then I notice Lemon and Oz standing at the front window, staring in at us. I blow out an exasperated breath, shaking my head. Hadrian doesn’t turn to look, but he chuckles.

“What was that for?”

“We’ve got onlookers,” I mutter.

He sighs. “I’d like to say you get used to it, but most of the time, I want to hide at your house.”

I snicker. “Remember when you first got recruited to the Academy team, and Dad ran that minotaur reporter off with a shotgun?”

Hadrian’s eyes sparkle. “Yeah. And remember when I moved here and everybody was staring at me in Whiskey Business, and Jasper told off the entire bar? It’s what I love about your family. One of the many reasons I prefer yours over mine.”

I take another measurement at the end of his rib cage, trying not to notice how hard his abs are beneath the shirt’s fabric. “Where are your folks right now, anyways?”

“Somewhere in Brazil still,” he mutters, his tone frustrated. “You know how they forget that time passes faster here inside the havens. They think they’ve been gone for two months, and it’s years for us. Their research into gargoyles in ancient cultures always sorta came first, but I’m not bitter or anything.”

It’s impossible not to see it bothers him, but it’s a conversation we’ve had many times. And it’s one of the reasons he started spending summers with us at eight years old. His folks and mine are old friends, and they love to disappear into their work for years at a time. It often takes them deep into dangerous jungles and they never liked to bring him. It’s my opinion they just didn’t want to have to deal with a kid tagging along and asking a million questions. Buncha a-holes.

“I’m sorry they’re not around much.” I slide the tape down and pull it carefully taut over his belly button.

He says nothing, but he’s tense.

Oz and Lemon are still in the damn window. I can see them from the corner of my eye, but I ignore them as I turn from Hadrian to jot down his mid-waist measurement. He’s quiet, but it’s fine because we’re friends, and it’s never awkward between us.

Until I get to his inseam.

“Spread your legs,” I command in a deep voice, wiggling my eyebrows at him.

He snickers and steps his feet out to hip-width. “I’m at your command, milady.”

Dropping to one knee, I look up with a serious expression. “For real though, don’t move, or I’ll accidentally touch your junk, and it’ll get awkward real fast.”

His nostrils flare, horns flexing nearly straight as he looks over me to the mirror. I work quickly, bringing the tape to the top of his current inseam. It’s hard not to notice his package when it’s right fucking there in front of my face. Not that I haven’t looked a time or twelve, but is it….is it growing?

Oh shit.

Moving quickly, I measure all the way to his heel and then the other leg inside and out. I go to his back and measure over his fantastic bubble butt to his heel.

“All done?” His tone is clipped, tight.

“Yep!” I force brightness into my voice until horror hits me. “Oh damnit, I didn’t write any of those down, I was so focused on going fast.”