26. Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Five

I wake to a hand clamping over my mouth. With Huxley's snoring form pressed against my back, I don't panic like I did when Wyatt caught me half-drunk and cemented in a nightmare. This time, I open my eyes lazily, brow already cocked to see who is hovering above me. Garrett is the answer.

"Get dressed," he whispers, removing his hand to chuck a pile of clothes onto my midsection. I groan, my voice slurred as I roll over.

"I have English class."

"I know you have an edible ass. Now get it downstairs." He rushes out of the room on tiptoes like a sneaky little nymph, while I push my head further into the pillow.

"Just go," Huxley huffs, shoving me out of the bed. "He keeps things interesting." I roll onto the ground, landing on my hands and one foot. The other is high in the air while the clothes topple onto my back. After Axel bandaged my ankle and grabbed two sofa cushions, he tucked me into Huxley's bed with my leg elevated and a kiss pressed to my temple. It was an experience to say the least.

I emerge dressed in a mixture of girl's clothes which were no doubt left over from wild frat parties. At least they've been laundered. The t-shirt sits short above my navel, a huge pink heart in the center. On the bottom, the ripped jeans are a good fit and after stealing an additional pair of thick socks from Huxley's drawers, my ankle feels much better in the high-laced boots. I recall waking a few times in the night to my ice compact being swapped out for a fresh one, but that could have been in my dreams. I was all over the place after Theo surprised me, Huxley bathed me and Axel held me as if I'm precious.

On the landing at the top of the stairs, I stop as Wyatt ascends in his basketball jersey and shorts. His hair is damp, his green eyes are tired. He sees me at the same time as my hip leans against the railing, staying well out of the way. By the glare he gives me, I half expect him to toss me down the stairs. Without breaking his stride, he comes directly towards me, stopping on the step below.

"So you just stay here now?" he asks with bitter acceptance. My brows hit my hairline. Is he actually talking to me? Wyatt doesn't talk to me - he talks at me. He lords over me like some big bad wolf with more money than sense.

A thousand replies toy with the end of my tongue. Should I just say yes and make it official? Rooming with Huxley beats communal bathrooms and ties on doorknobs. Although, he'll probably grow bored and want his personal space back soon. Perhaps I ask Wyatt if there's a spare room for me, since apparently we're trying out this open communication thing. Unfortunately, years of anger and loathing don't disappear so easily.

"Get over it, Dipshit." Pushing past him, our shoulders lock in a battle of wills before I win out and manage to move forward. Garrett appears at the bottom of the stairs when I reach the lobby, directing me to the garage. Huxley's white SUV stands proud, all fixed and shiny like new. The orange Nissan and green Mercedes sit either side, but Garrett ignores all of these.

Tossing me a helmet and leather jacket, there's a silent instruction to mount the Ducati at the back while the garage door lifts. Garrett takes the front, zipping up his own jacket. There's a challenge in his brown gaze which I refuse to fail. Hopping onto the back, I pull on the helmet and wrap my arms around Garrett's middle.

Twisting the throttle, we shoot out of the garage, skidding hard onto the street. I'm glad I didn't have time to eat breakfast. The stench of burnt rubber surrounds us as Garrett's laughter vibrates beneath my palms. Thankfully, once we hit the main roads, he morphs into a very competent driver. We reach our destination with all of our limbs intact. Our destination being a shopping mall.

"You woke me up early to go shopping?" I ask once free from the helmet. Garrett takes it, chaining the pair of them to the bike.

"Not just shopping. Dress shopping."

"Dress shopping?" I echo back, delayed when he takes my hand and tugs me through the empty parking lot. "What do I need a dress for?"

"For the Ball, you silly goose." Garrett laughs at some internal joke. "I need to make sure you're looking good for my boy." I sigh. Our fingers are intertwined as we walk through the automatic doors.

"I'm so confused by the dynamics here."

"They don't need to make sense. If you wanted conventional, you probably shouldn't have a crush on your stepbrother." I stop still, a gasp torn from my throat .

"I do not!" I shout in outrage. Garrett rounds on me, his arms folding over his chest.

"You're telling me, you've never used that cute little pink vibrator Axel was telling me about while imagining it was Wyatt's tongue?" My eyes widen further as I look around for anyone nearby. Luckily, the mall just opened and no one else thought Wednesday morning was an ideal time to venture out. Provoked by Garrett's smug smirk, I square up to him, prodding my finger into his chest.

"For the record," I growl and narrow my eyes. "My vibe is bigger than what you're packing." Garrett leans back to laugh, attracting the stares of shop clerks and a curious security guard. Winding an arm around my shoulder, he urges us to keep walking and drops his mouth to my ear.

"They don't make molds girthy enough, Peach." I'm left with that mental image as we seek out a spot of breakfast first. Garrett urges me to pick out whatever I want, even though I have to get my own tray. There's no room on his amongst the pile of bagels and pastries. Once we reach the cashier, he produces a credit card and flashes it at me. I just about make out Wyatt's name before Garrett pays. We sit in the middle of the food court, surrounded by empty tables and eat until we can't stomach another bite.

"This is literally the worst thing to do before a dress fitting," I lean back and stroke my food baby. I can't remember the last time I've felt so full. Not that Nancy, the manor's cook, would let me gorge on so many syrup-soaked waffles at the start of the day.

"I'm in no rush," Garrett holds up his coffee. I tilt my head at that, looking beyond the mask.

"Avoiding something?" I ask. Garrett's interest in his cup suddenly becomes forced. He pries off the lid, swirling the steaming liquid inside. I wait patiently, knowing out of the two of us, Garrett is the one who will break the silence first. Finally, he groans and drags a hand down his face.

"I'm avoiding Axel."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a fucking coward." Downing the rest of his coffee, Garrett lets every last drop patter his outstretched tongue before coming back to me. "I went looking for him last night and I saw you both…having your moment." He fakes a gag and I roll my eyes.

"So what?"

"No, it's nothing. Just…I mean, Axel usually relies on me after a nightmare but this is perfect actually. He needs to start moving on. It's best you see him at his lowest. Make sure you know how to handle it before I…"

"Before you, what?" I lean my elbows on the table. Garrett is at a loss for words for once, so uses his fingers to mime himself running away. Exasperation puffs out my cheeks. "You are the most ridiculous person I've ever met."

"That is deeply offensive," Garrett touches a hand to his chest. Stacking our plates, I busy myself with clearing away. I reckon I've figured out what it means to be a Shadowed Soul. You have to be stubborn to a fault, unable to see past your own damage and a terrible judge of character. Sure enough, the entire lot of them have misjudged me in one way or another. Typically by underestimating the strength I've spent years building brick by brick.

"You're so certain you're going to fail Axel. Maybe instead of pushing him away, you should pick out a suit and take him to the Ball yourself." I twist my lips. Garrett chuckles, preparing to move on from this conversation.

"You'll be a better match for him. We have shopping to do," Garrett pushes to his feet and offers me his hand. I accept it, but refuse to leave just yet.

"Last question," I state. A glint returns to Garrett's brown eyes as he stands close enough to force my head back. "Why does it have to be me or you? Why can't we just…see what happens?" With my hand in his, Garrett's smile turns sad. His thumb strokes my wrist.

"That was two questions, Peach. Come on, I'm ready to see you strut around for me." I drop the topic from then on. Whatever Garrett is working through with himself, a brief chastising over breakfast isn't going to change his mind .

We carve a path through the mall and up the escalator, Garrett seeming to have a destination in mind. A beautiful shop tucked away in the corner. Behind the window displays, thick blinds have been pulled down between the glass panels and the interior. I've barely stepped inside when a cheery sales assistant pops up.

"Good morning," she beams with a wide smile. Her hair is swept back, not a strand out of place. In a simple button-down uniform, her name tag labels her as ‘Tasha'. "Can I help you with anything today?"

"Please," Garrett smiles that mischievous smile which means I'm going to hate what he's about to say. "This lovely lady needs a dress to take my boyfriend on a date." I call on every shred of inner strength to remain impassive. To her credit, Tasha's smile only dips for a second. I step between the two of them, gesturing to the store.

"Ignore him. He chats shit to shock people. I need a dress for a ball at our university. Nothing too dark, it washes me out." I throw a pointed look at Garrett, daring him to disagree. He finds a low suede sofa and sits with a flourish, his leg crossed over the other knee.

The boutique specializes in ballgowns at first glance. Sorted by color, rails poke out of the walls with long, glittering gowns resting on their hangers. Between each set, sits a stand of coordinating shoes, bags and jewelry. Tasha asks a few questions about my usual likes and dislikes, takes several measurements and ventures off to select suitable dresses. My fingers trail the sequin and lace gowns, a flurry of butterflies coming to life within.

"I've never done this sort of thing," I confess to Garrett. He's watching me casually, but I've come to know he sees more than he says. My movements are being cataloged, so I might as well be upfront. "The galas and award ceremonies were always Wyatt's thing. I much preferred staying home and watching through the TV screen."

"Sounds lonely." I snort a laugh.

"You haven't met Meg's friends. During spring break, we had a group come and stay while Nixon and my mom were out of town. Gowns and galas may not be my thing, but apparently booty shorts and beer kegs are."

"Really?" Garrett sits forward, his face alight with curiosity. Tasha returns with her arms filled with special garments she keeps out back. Every single one is exquisite, and a one-off she assures me. I shift through the selection, unsure where to start.

"What color will Axel's suit be?" I try to approach the selection process from a logical standpoint. If Meg were here, she'd have already picked out my entire outfit with matching accessories. Garrett laughs, verging on bitterly.

"You won't get that man in a suit and tie. He's triggered by tight collars around his neck. He'll wear a very expensive t-shirt and jeans though." I peer back but Garrett's attention is on the images littering his arms. No doubt he's looking for space to squeeze in something else. Affronted with Tasha's curious gaze, I think back to the frat house party. I hadn't noticed it at the time, but where the rest of the gang wore shirts and slacks, I now remember Axel in a fitted tee. Interesting.

"So I'm matching denim. Navy blue is it." This immediately whittles the selection to two dresses. A much more manageable choice. Tasha leaves to set up the dressing room while I browse shoes and bags, cursing myself for being so shit at this type of thing. Although maybe it's not that I'm shit. Maybe it's that I don't really care for it. Gowns, diamonds; it's all so frivolous. I've never been interested in being dressed up and paraded around.

Arms wind around my waist, fingers prying a clutch from my hand. Garrett's head drops into the crook of my neck. He inhales, my eyes flutter closed. The press of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest. A rare moment of stillness takes place and my mind drifts. How long has it been since Garrett was still? Since he took the time to quiet his mind? Warmth spreads through my entire body, my back molding into him. I feel light and weirdly safe, despite knowing Garrett of all people could switch personas and leave me in the dust if he wishes.

"I knew you'd be perfect for him." The whisper brushes my collarbone. My gut churns. As much as Axel is a gorgeously haunted man who I could see myself connecting with on a deep level, there's something similar within Garrett. We stand in our embrace for a while. Long enough for the small voice in the back of my head to grow from an equally tentative whisper to a shout, overpowering all common sense.

Maybe I want to be perfect for you, too.