Beneath The Surface

Red Lingerie

Song for this chapter, I'm yours by Jason Mraz

Miley

Wow, it feels like forever since I last visited the mall. I mostly shop online now. This place is enormous and crowded, with so many stores!

“Have you never been to a mall before?” Noah interrupts my thoughts.

“Yes, no—I mean, I haven’t been here in a long time,” I respond.

“Well, stop staring; it’s weird.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, looking away from the shops. “So… where are we headed?”

“We're almost there.” He stops in front of a stall, and I turn to see it’s an underwear store—specifically for women.

I look at him, then back at the store. “Are we at the right place?”

“Yes, we are. Can you see that red one over there?” He points to a stunning red lingerie set on a mannequin.

“Yes, I see it.”

“Great! I need you to go get it for me.” I size him up, incredulous that he wants me to get lingerie for him.

“It’s not for me; it’s for a friend.”

“Why can’t that friend get it for themselves?”

“Well, that friend doesn't owe me three hundred dollars,” he smirks, and I sigh in defeat.

“Here’s my card.” He pulls out his wallet, hands me his credit card, and I stare at it.

“The PIN is 2493.”

“You know you could just get this yourself, right?”

“I know, but I don’t want to. Now go get it.”

I take a deep breath and adjust my glasses. Let’s do this.

I walk into the store and admire the beautiful lingerie and mannequins. So many slender women are shopping here; I feel out of place. As I’m lost in admiration, I don’t notice the saleslady standing in front of me.

“Can I help you?” she asks, raising her voice to get my attention.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I was....... daydreaming.” She doesn’t seem pleased that I’m here.

“Bags aren’t allowed in here,” she snaps.

“Oh, I didn’t know.” I start to remove my backpack, but she stops me.

“No, please keep it on; we like to keep our floors clean.” Is she calling me dirty?

“What can I help you with?” I see her name tag; she works here. What kind of work ethic is this? Does she think I’m a thief? I don’t blame her; it’s Noah’s fault.

I glance at the lingerie Noah pointed out earlier and then back at the unfriendly lady. “I’d like that one, please.” I point at it.

“I’m afraid we don’t have that in your size.”

“Oh no, it’s not for me; it’s for a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” She eyes me up and down.

“Well then, follow me.” She turns and walks away, her heels clicking on the floor.

I follow her to the cashier desk, where she begins typing on the computer. “Cash or credit card?” she snaps. What’s her problem?

“Credit card,” I reply gently, pulling out Noah’s card. I hand it to her, and she snatches it from my hand. I notice that other customers have bags and purses; why weren’t they stopped?