The Badboys' Good Lips

10

c h a p t e r 10
tw: body checking

"Absolutely not."

The huff on the other side of the changeroom door was loud. "Come out," he said, annoyance laced within each syllable. "Now."

"I can't come out there like this," I shook my head, knowing he couldn't see me. "Especially not for you."

"I have to see whether or not it's acceptable for tonight. We've been over this. You have to let me see it."

"I don't want to wear this," I turned from the door and to the full-length mirror, eyes jumping to every free piece of skin this top displayed. Which was quite a bit. "It's too low cut. It's practically transparent. It's cropped!"

"Some might say that that's the point," Ryder said with an edge of frustration. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"It's revealing," I stressed. "The neckline practically shows everything off!"

"I'm sure it doesn't," he countered. "And it's not cropped. You just have a long torso."

My eyes narrowed a fraction and I studied the top again, biting my lip as I contemplated my next course of action.

Ryder, Dylan and I had been at the mall for maybe an hour or two now, the only purchase made being a pair of black heels exceeding no more than two inches at best, and a pair of black jean cutoffs. The shorts were the shortest I'd ever worn before, the hem not straight but kind of like a V, meaning my ass was almost on display. Not to mention bending over was out of the question. But they were the only pair Ryder approved of for some reason and he purchased them without another thought.

He was now on the lookout for a suitable top for them. I should have guessed it would have been something scandalous, and the options he'd picked for me to try on so far were just that. Everything was a bold red colour and varied from sheer to lace to a combination of the two. Much like the top I had on now, for example. The tag said it was a lace-bustier cami, clearly copped and low cut as I had complained. I'd never worn something like this before as just a top. This looked kind of like lingerie Cole once—

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I couldn't step out in public wearing this. I wouldn't. I still didn't even really know the specifics of what was happening tonight. Dylan, who had wandered off to flirt with a sales associate, had let slip that it was kind of like a party but with a lot of important people. He said girls dressed like this and I'd need to fit in since I'd be attending on Ryder's arm.

The only thing I could think of was that gang lair he I had been taken to last week, where the girls there wore scantily clad clothing that I'd never even been close to wearing. I didn't look like them and I couldn't even fake the confidence that they so clearly had. As brief as my seeing them had been, they looked so comfortable in their skin and I just... wasn't.

Ryder knocked on the changeroom door again. I couldn't even begin to imagine what we must look like. This was a women's clothing store; There might have been two or three other men in here, but I had noticed them trailing behind their partners and sucked into their phones.

Ryder was the only guy in here that was looking through the racks with purpose, pawing at the material with scrutiny, plucking things from different sections and carrying them himself. He didn't even hand anything off to me anymore, but that was probably because, during our first hour of shopping, I'd been putting them back or hiding the items because I didn't want them as soon as he turned his back.

"Everything going alright in here?"

I heard Ryder let out a sigh, irritated by the interruption by none other than Dylan.