3. Aiden

Chapter 3

Aiden

I didn't understand why Meredith picked on my clothes. They were…fine. I'd found khakis that fit, bought a bunch, then picked out a few polos I could wear to work and the few places I went out to. Sure, it was plain, but there wasn't anything wrong with them. At least I didn't think so until Meredith frowned at me, plucking at the dark green material.

"Jesus Christ, Aiden. It's like you want girls to think your mom buys your clothes."

"She doesn't, but what would be so bad about that?" I hopped out of her passenger seat after she parked. We'd exchanged numbers at the bar the last night, and she'd messaged this morning, ordering me to give her my address so she could pick me up. Bossy like that.

"You need to send out the right vibes. My mommy still dresses me is not the vibe you want, is it?" She looped her purse over her shoulder and tucked her hands into the pockets of her light blue denim jacket that made her eyes look more blue than gray today. "Where do you usually go shopping?"

"Amazon."

Her upper lip curled. "Hey, I like one-day shipping as much as the next girl, but you can't do all your shopping online if you don't know what you're looking for or what looks good on you." She vaguely motioned to me because, I guessed, I didn't know what to look for or what looked good on me. "We're rectifying that."

She marched off toward the mall—I honest to God didn't even know they existed anymore—and I ignored the shape of her butt and legs in her dark jeans as she sashayed in front of me. Akron, Ohio, wasn't exactly the fashion capital of the world, so I didn't understand the connection of my clothes to getting a girlfriend, but Meredith was the teacher in this scenario, so I dutifully followed her into J. Crew.

I glanced at the price of a pair of sweats. "Rectify it by paying sixty bucks for sweatpants?"

She wrapped her hand around my wrist, tugging me further into the store. "You're a single guy who works for full-time. You could afford one pair of sixty-dollar pants if you wanted to." When I started to argue, she slapped her hand over my mouth. "But, no, you don't have to buy them if you don't want to. Today's about finding your style so you know what to buy from here on out."

Meredith's skin was soft and warm, and I found myself leaning into her touch. Especially when she scratched her pointy nails down my jaw. "And this…" She smiled. "This is good. You should keep this scruff."

She backed away, letting her hand drag down to my shoulder, and shivers raced up my spine. I covered my shudders with a forced laugh and shrug. "You didn't give me much time to shower and shave this morning."

That earned a grin. "I love a guy who comes when I call."

I knew Meredith was a flirt, but I also suspected there was more to her than this game she played, and I didn't know if I liked her hiding behind it. Especially when I basically offered myself up on a platter for her dissect.

I wanted to see her insides, too.

"So," I started, circling around to inspect the array of preppy shirts and pants. "This is where you shop?"

"Nope. But I figured we could start in here and then make our way down until we find what we're looking for."

"You mean what you're looking for?"

"Same same," she said, absently placing her hands on my shoulders to push me to the wall, where she asked for my size then chose three different pairs of pants for me to try on, along with a few different shirts and sweaters. She shoved me toward the dressing rooms. "I want to see each one."

I closed the door and stripped down to my boxers before pulling on the slim cut pants. I wasn't used to wearing them, and they didn't feel super comfortable.

"What're you doing in there?" Meredith asked.

"I can't…" I tugged at the pants. "I don't like them."

"What? The shirt? The pants? Both?"

"I didn't even get to the shirt yet," I said, and her shadow moved under the door.

"Lemme see."

I grabbed the closest shirt she'd handed me, a thin brown sweater, and tossed it over my head, then opened the door. Meredith's gaze swept over me. "I don't like that color on you. But… What's going on here?"

Meredith was tall, and she bent nearly in half to stare at my crotch. I stepped back, instinctively hiding my groin behind my hands.

"What are you doing? Come here. Let me see…" She pulled me closer so she could run her hands up and down my legs. "Do you…" From her crouched position, she tipped her head back, mouth open in shock, and it did something to me that had me covering myself again. "What kind of underwear do you have on?"

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because." She lifted the hem of the sweater, revealing the elastic band of my plaid boxers. "You are! You wear boxers?" She shook her head like it was a problem I wore them. "No wonder you think these pants are uncomfortable. You're wearing the same underwear as thirteen-year-old boys. Aiden," she sighed, and I was ready to close the door on her and her sighing on her knees. "You're an adult man. You need to wear adult men's underwear."

"What's wrong with boxers?"

"From purely a comfort level, they don't feel good under some clothes with all that material, right?" But she didn't let me answer because she went right on. "And from a we're- trying-to-get-you-laid standpoint, boxer-briefs are so much sexier than boxers."

"I don't?—"

"I like the pants on you, but try them with this." She pointed to the long-sleeved shirt, then closed the door, brooking no argument. I switched out the sweater for the button-down and by the time I opened the door, she had a pack of underwear in her hands. "We're getting these." She ripped open the package to toss me a pair of stripped cotton before assessing me once again. "I like you in lighter tones. It's a good contrast to your coloring."

I combed my fingers through my messy dark brown hair, then reflexively touched my glasses, the thick dark frames I wore over my brown eyes. I supposed there wasn't much about me that stood out. Not like Meredith, who would never blend in with a crowd.

I rolled my shoulders back, plucking at the sky blue shirt, and Meredith pursed her lips, nodding to herself absently, then wiggled her hands, wanting me to lift one of my arms up to her. Once I did, she carefully rolled the sleeve to my elbow. "The difference between what men want and what women want is primal. Men like big tits and asses, something about evolution and caveman genes needing to know their mate will birth them lots of babies, right? But our cavewoman genes want us to pick a mate with the ability to, like, kill mammoths and build us huts, and how would you show that? Muscle. Accentuate your muscles." She dropped my right arm and touched my left so I'd lift it, allowing her to roll that sleeve up as well. Then she skated the tip of her nail along my forearm. "I'd guess that ninety-seven point seven percent of women are highly attracted to forearms, and lucky for you, you've got nice ones."

She crowded behind me in the dressing room then, and even though she was only a few inches shorter than me, she needed to poke her head around the side of my shoulder to catch my gaze in the mirror. "Shoulders are a big one, too. I don't know why you wear such baggy clothes, but do you see how this shirt fits you?" She drummed her fingers on the top of my shoulder. "This is where the seam should be." She stroked down to my biceps. "Not here. So, what do you think?"

I nodded, too busy trying to ignore how her hands moved to my waist as she tipped her head at an angle in this adorable way.

"Do you like it?" When I nodded again, she laughed. "Super helpful, Aid."

She stepped to the side, studying me like someone might study the Mona Lisa. "You ever wear contacts?"

"I tried them. Didn't like 'em. Why?"

"Might give you a different look."

"Like the unpopular girl who takes off her glasses and suddenly she's hot and prom queen?"

She laughs, whacking my arm. "Yes, exactly that." But then she shrugs and makes her way out of the dressing room. "Just an idea. Either way you're handsome."

She said it so off-handedly, I almost missed it. But she thought I was handsome?

I tried not to let it inflate my chest or cloud my vision, but still I couldn't help smiling as she motioned to other pieces of clothes.

"Put the boxer-briefs on. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. And I want to see what the gray chinos look like on you."

Once the door closed again, I blew out a big breath and put on the next round, including the underwear, which I actually liked. Held everything together quite nicely down there and made a difference underneath the pants.

"Okay, you were right," I said, striding out of the dressing room, and Meredith positively lit up.

"You look so good, Aiden!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She snorted a laugh, doing her thing, fixing me like her personal doll. "You don't believe me?"

I shrugged.

"Maybe it's because you've been wearing the wrong clothes the whole time. It's been throwing you off."

I merely offered her a quiet, "Maybe."

"Okay. Next!" She pushed me back into the room, and I tried on another pair of chinos, which were basically khakis…but, like, with a fancy name, and another sweater. This time, she wasn't as happy about it. "I like the gray and the blue shirt the best. They're basics you can mix and match. But if you don't want to get them, you don't have to."

I checked the price tags. I was used to buying twenty-dollar stuff. While I didn't consider myself cheap, I was also careful with my money. I was an accountant, after all.

"Hey." She reached for my arm. "Why don't you let me buy them for you? My treat for being a good sport."

"No. No way. This is my thing. You're helping me ."

"Yeah, but I would really like to buy them for you if you like them. Ask Claire, I love buying people things."

I slipped my arm out of her grip. "Why?"

"Because it's my love language." She toyed with the collar of my sweater, her voice going quiet. "I don't know if Claire's ever told you, but my family has money, and I like to spend it, so…"

I edged away from her. "What's that even mean?"

She stomped her foot, her fists at her sides in a tiny temper tantrum. "It means I want to buy this stuff for you."

"I don't need you buying my anything. I can afford it. I'm just not used to spending money on clothes, is all."

She spun around. "Fine. Whatever. I'll meet you in the front."

I stared after her for a moment, interested in what that was all about before changing into my clothes, but kept on the underwear. I purchased the boxer-briefs, along with the gray pants and button-down. If Meredith liked it, I was going to get it. She was the expert, and I trusted her.

Then again, I thought any man with a thing for self-assured women and a siren smile would crawl after her if she said so. But we were here to get me a girlfriend, not to build her a higher pedestal so I could admire her.

With my bag in hand, I met her by the door. "All right, teach?"

"Yeah." She smiled at me. "Ready for the next stop?"

I followed her into Old Navy then Express, where she pulled clothes for me to try on at each place, getting more and more comfortable as the day wore on. Enough that when she sat next to me while I tried on shoes, I asked, "Gonna tell me what that fit was about before?"

"It was not a fit."

I bit back a smile, and she purposely elbowed me as she searched for something in her purse.

"A tantrum then," I said, and she growled cutely as she found her cell phone.

"Not a tantrum either."

"Outburst?"

She ignored that and leaned into me so I could view the picture on her phone screen. It appeared to be a family photo. It included a woman who looked freakishly similar to Meredith, but a bit older, a man with a wide smile and oddly tanned skin, as well as a guy who looked about Meredith's age with a full head of gold hair and perfect smile.

"Your family?"

She nodded. "My dad was a scientist."

"Was?" I asked, standing in the Oxfords she had picked out, explaining they could be dressed up or down, and that I needed to burn my sneakers. When I'd tried to argue, she had stuck her finger in my face, repeating, " Burn them , Aiden."

Now, she gestured for me to walk back and forth, something I'd gotten used to, as she told her story. "Yeah, was . He invented one of the blue dyes you see on paper products…napkins, paper towels, toilet paper."

I stood in front of her for inspection. "Really?"

"Yeah. He sold the patent for millions. Now he mostly golfs." She tipped her chin to my shoes. "I like those. Get them in black, too."

I sat down next to her, putting the Oxfords in their box and slipping my needed-to-be-burned sneakers back on. "What about your mom?"

"My mom could give a shit about my dad. She's in it for the money and Botox."

I winced. "Your brother?"

"Total douchebag."

"And how do you fit in?" I found a pair of the Oxfords in black and stuck them under my arm along with the brown before heading to the cash wrap.

Her long strides kept up with mine. "I don't. My mom wanted me to be like her, find someone with money and marry young. She never understood why I wanted to get a job. My dad keeps telling me I'm too pretty for school. Thinks I don't need a PhD."

I nearly choked on my breath. "What? That's ridiculous."

She exhaled audibly through her nose. "It's why I like to spend the trust fund money on other people. Because what else am I going to do with it? I mean, don't get me wrong, I can drop a couple hundred on new Korean skincare, no problem, but I don't want to be like my family. I don't want to drown in bad tans and fake boobs."

I tapped my credit card on the machine at the check-out, not thinking. "You already have the tan and the boobs."

She sputtered a laugh. "Smooth, Aiden. Real smooth."

I think I blushed from my scalp to my toes. "I meant you don't need it. You're beautiful, but you're smart, too. Don't let them get to you."

"I don't."

I didn't believe her, but let it drop and accepted the receipt to shove it in the bag, adding it to my ever-growing pile. "So, where to next, teach?"

"One last stop at The Gap. See if we can't put it all together."