“You don’t get those at my local Intu.”
He pauses on the pavement. “Am I rushing you? Would you like to go in?”
“In that shop?”
He nods.
“God,no.”
“Why that tone of astonishment?”
I gesture down at myself. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“How on earth would you manage that?”
“Well, I never bought any new clothes like you told me to.”
He pulls me to the side of the street out of the way of pedestrians. “You’re usually incomprehensible, but you’re taking it to Olympic levels today. What are you talking about?”
I scuff the toe of my worn Converse on the shiny pavement. “You’re embarrassed by my clothes. You wanted me to dress better.”
He gapes at me, and he looks so surprised that I snort with laughter.
“What are youlaughingat?” he asks.
“Sorry, sorry.” I begin to laugh in earnest. “It’s just that you seem so surprised.”
“That’s because I am.” He hesitates, and when he speaks again, his voice is curiously formal. “I only intend to say this once, so please pay attention.” I try out an attentive expression, and he grimaces. “Now you just look constipated.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you going to say?”
“That you could never embarrass me,” he says simply.
“Really?”
He nods. “You’re a vibrant, warm, funny and clever young man whose personality shines through. You don’t attract people to you because you dress well. You attract them because you’re you—honest and forthright and… and brave. I actually admire you.”
“Youdo?”
“And you have an extraordinary talent of sounding exactly like a parrot. You could take that act on the stage.” I thump him gently, and he laughs before sobering. “We could all take lessons from you, Wes.”
“That is quite the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I pause. “It doesn’t have a lot of competition from your other statements, though.”
His eyebrow rises. “Oh yes?”
I nod. “Especially when you consider that last month you told me I was a moron because I melted plastic in the oven.”
He laughs. “And I stand by that statement.” He gestures at the door. “Would you like to go in? I will treat you to something nice.” He holds up a hand as I open my mouth to protest. “And not because you dress poorly, or I’m embarrassed, or any of the other cretinous reasons you’ve no doubt conjured up in your tiny brain.”
“And he’sback,” I say to the street, laughing. “No, I don’t want to go shopping, thank you. I like what we’ve been doing.”
“This is Paris, though. Are you sure you’d rather walk along the streets than shop at Chanel?”
I look at the security guard who’s observing us curiously. “I amverysure,” I say with certainty.
He’s silent for a while as we start to walk again, and I shoot him a nervous look. Did I offend him when I wouldn’t let him buy me anything? I open my mouth to say something, but he shoots me a look. His face is cool once more, with no sign of what he was thinking, but I’m equally sure that he’s suppressing something.
“There’s a party at Jack’s next month,” he says.
