by Michael Monn
"We are almost in Sant Joan. What do you want to have for lunch?" he asked, once again letting me off the hook.
By early evening, we were back in the city. Jean Pierre had been particularly quiet on the train ride back. His mood had slowly collapsed after our little incident. How could I perk him up a bit?
When in doubt; shop. There was no time for Dolce, so I dragged him into a Massimo Dutti. For someone who always looked great, he wasn't a very enthusiastic shopper. This did not deter me however. Dressing HIM had long been one of my fantasies.
I picked three shirts in different shades, an off-white linen jacket, as well as two pairs of shorts. The shop assistant provided a pair of step-in shoes, as he was still wearing his runners. He grumbled at the amount of clothes he had to try, but I tutted him into the changing room.
"I don't want to do this now, I am all yucky from today's walk," he complained.
"Nonsense, you can never be yucky. As a matter of fact Mr. Dutti should put you in his catalogue!" I retorted. Surprisingly, it elicited a chuckle from behind the curtain.
"You do know that there is no 'Mr. Dutti'?" His voice sounded lighter. Was my dastardly plan working?
"Let's stop talking and concentrate, shall we?" I proclaimed haughtily. Another chuckle.
He looked amazing as always, but there was something about new clothes that gave me a kick. I liked the shorts, but not the jacket. The shirt was just the right size. It showed off his upper body, without it being slutty.
"I like this, but not in this color," I said, looking at him pensively. He sighed at the prospect of having to go back into the changing cubicle. I didn't let him.
"Let's take this off and try the light blue one." I was already undoing the buttons one by one, whilst we stood in the corridor. It was empty, but someone could walk in at any moment.
He let me pull the shirt off his shoulders. Without warning, I stuck a finger in my mouth and then passed it ever so lightly over one of his nipples. He grabbed the offending hand in a tight grip and gave me a dark look.
"No!" He said firmly. "You cannot keep playing with me like this! Why do you suddenly not care, if someone will see us or not?"
"Please, try on the light blue one," I begged, ignoring the tension completely. "I am sure it will suit you really well!" Fuck! I had never seen him react like this before.
"I think we are done here," he snapped through the sound of the curtain closing.
The dastardly plan was going to shit! I had to do something. The barrier between us, once again gave me the strength to speak my mind.
"I am scared! I don't want us to end, but I don't know how we can continue?" Caught completely off guard by my unexpected outpouring of truth, I started to fucking cry again!
The silence behind the curtain seemed to last forever. When it opened, two arms pulled me in tight. I sobbed a river of tears into the pale green shirt. He said nothing, just held me. A shopper walked in on our little scene and decided to try on his clothes elsewhere.
"I will have to buy this shirt," he said quietly into my hair.
Fifteen
Finally! I was no longer a fucking teenager. At work everyone had wished me a happy birthday, but none of my friends had said anything. I presumed they were either planning a surprise party or they had all collectively forgotten. Even HE hadn't contacted me yet.
I had just finished texting with Vanessa, when my phone buzzed in my hand. A message from Agnes.
"Do you have plans for tonight?" she wrote.
"No. I am free all night!" I played along.
"I had a falling out with Monique."
"Don't want to be in the house tonight."
What convenient timing, I thought to myself. So Agnes was the one who would bring me to the scene of the crime. Moments later, a chain of messages from JP buzzed in.
"Happy Birthday!"
"I know you can't say it back, but I love you."
"Shall we meet up later?" Ha, ha! Sure, why not. Another buzz.
"Happy Birthday, Caleb.
