for hiking. Even though I know my size, he makes me try them on. He waits outside the fitting rooms as I change out of my old jean shorts with the rips in the hem and try the hiking pants on. While I’m pulling the new material over my hips, I find I’m actually having a good time shopping with Wyatt.
On the other hand, of course I am. How could I not be? I’m about to get a bunch of brand new stuff. This good mood must be a shopper’s high which will probably dissipate as soon as we leave.
I check the pants out in the mirror and decide they fit well enough. Before I can get changed back into my shorts, Wyatt says, “You better be planning on showing me those pants, Tits.”
I cock my head. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need to show you.”
Instead of coming back with something sarcastic or even worse, more demands, he says, “Please?”
My shoulders slump. Any other argument and I could’ve ignored it, but not this one. I begrudgingly open the door and step out. He leans on the cart we have and then twirls his finger in a circle, indicating for me to turn around. By the time I’m facing him again, he shakes his head. “They’re a hair too big. Here.” He holds up the same pants but in a different size.
“These are fine, Wyatt.”
“Actually, he’s right.” I turn to find Stone and Lucas walking toward us. “Those are too big. When you buy something new, they’ll relax over time. The first few times you wear them, they’ll be fine, but then they’ll be slipping past your ass while we’re trying to hike up the Superstitions, and we can’t have that. Can we, Wilder?”
I take the pants from Wyatt and slip back into the fitting room. Before I can come out with them on for their inspection again, more tops and pants are thrown over the top of the fitting room door. “Try these on, Wilder.”
I groan, but I take them anyway. There’s nothing wrong with my clothes. In fact, I’d have more clothes if Stone had grabbed everything from my dorm, but he didn’t.
My mind gives me all those excuses, but the truth is, when I try the first shirt on, I just stare at my reflection in the mirror inside that tiny dressing room for ages. My hair is wild like normal, but my eyes seem brighter. Standing there in new clothes is like wearing different shields of armor, a luxury I’ve never had before.
Maybe I let everyone pick on me at school because what they said was true. I was wearing someone else’s clothes. We were poor. My dad was kind of out there, and I’m sure I had my moments where I seemed out there, too. I didn’t have experiences like everyone else.
“Dakota?” Wyatt calls through the door.
“Yeah,” I say, and for a moment, I forget to put my solid exterior back in place because my voice cracks.
I groan again and wipe at my eyes, but movement at my feet makes me step away. Wyatt, sans cowboy hat comes squirming in underneath my fitting room door. He stands to his full height in front of me while I fight back tears. Goddammit. I think I actually do like shopping with Wyatt Longhorn.
A small smile flickers across his face. “I’d cry too if I saw the real me for the first time.”
His words drop anchor into the pit of my stomach. The real me. Without someone else’s clothes that already lived through their lifetime. Without someone else’s shoes that have already walked someone else’s miles. Me. Just me.
I don’t realize the tears have actually tracked over my cheeks until Wyatt pulls me to him. He presses my head against his shirt, and I just know I’m leaving splotchy wet marks over his t-shirt. His breaths flutter the hair at the top of my head, and I close my eyes, oddly comfortable in his arms.
He must feel it too because after a moment, he loosens his hold, and it’s then that he’s really hugging me, arms falling before pulling me closer.
We stay that way for too long.
26
I come back out a few minutes after making Wyatt leave the room so I can change back into my regular clothes. I’ve put myself together now, but when I glance over at the cart, it’s full of clothes. I frown at it, but Stone of all people gives me a threatening