Love and Other Chemistry ♡ Trevor Zegras

8 | Milly

"Don't make me hack the Nano-bites that make up your anatomy and do it myself," I warned with a grin. "Cause I totally will."

"Nano-bites?" He whispered, coming to a complete halt, his expression a mixture of baffled and slightly terrified. Looking to his hands, Trevor clenched and unclenched his fists in wonder. I turned my attention to the boy, trying—but ultimately failing—to hold back my laughter. "Is that seriously a thing?"

Tipping my head back, I chuckled blissfully at the boys tendency to be, well, adorable. "No, dingus, it isn't. C'mon, let's go get your new glamorous clothes."

"Aw, man," he whined. "You mean I'm not a robot?"

"Come on, Trevor!"

***

I flicked through the various items of clothing littering the racks, letting my fingers glide gently over the different fabrics and designs, contemplating whether any of them would look decent on me. I paused momentarily on a sequined shirt that might possibly go with a nice pair of jeans, but thought better of it and continued.

Letting out a deep sigh, I looked over my shoulder to see how Trevor was going. His hands were both full with different t-shirts and jackets and pairs of jeans of every colour available. I guess this store did suit him, after all. The moment we had walked in, I knew I was out of place. Everything in here was branded and stylish and gave off that sporty style that the hockey captain pulled off so well.

I, on the other hand, spent my money on basics and staple items I found in thrift stores. Why the hell would I pay over a hundred dollars for a shirt when I could get something way better for less than fifty?

Still, the clothes in this store were nice, and I bet they'd look really great on a person who could easily pull them off. That person, unfortunately, was not me.

I spent a further fifteen minutes wandering around the store, gazing at the same clothes at least five times. Each time, picturing items I liked with different clothing I owned. By the time Trevor finally emerged from the change rooms, his hands just as full as when he disappeared, I had created at least nine new imaginary outfits that I'd never be caught dead wearing.

I flicked him a quick smile, letting him know I was okay on my own while he paid for his new haul of Nike t-shirts and parkers. He winked at me across the store, causing an involuntary blush to rise to my cheeks.

Turning my head away immediately, my gaze snapped to a black dress on a mannequin that I hadn't noticed before. It was velvet, which was sort of fun, meaning it would feel smooth under your fingertips if you were to run your hands over it. I reached out to touch the fabric, confirming that I had been right, it felt pretty damn great. The dress was skin tight at the chest with a high neck-line that tied at the back and sat low on the spine, it featured  an A-line style, accentuating the hips in a way that I admittedly loved and figured wouldn't look bad on me if I wore the right shoes. I stared longingly at the midnight fabric.

It was a really pretty dress.

"Why don't you try it on?" Trevor whispered, suddenly standing right behind me, both hands occupied by several new bags.

Frightened out of my mind, I jumped at the sound of his voice. "Goodness, Trevor! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he grinned, shifting to grasp all of the bags in one hand while he scratched the black of his neck with the other. "But seriously, try it on?"

I tilted my head to the right, trying to look at the dress at a different angle. "Hmm, no. I don't think so."

"Why not?" he asked, placing his chin on my shoulder with a pout. "I bet it'd look really good on you."

Turning to him with a glare, I rolled my eyes. "If I try it on, can we leave?"

"Sure," he sighed, standing back to his full height again.

I nodded, grabbing my size off the rack and taking off towards the change rooms as quickly as I could. I figured, if I got away from Trevor fast enough, he wouldn't make it in time to see me with the thing on, because there was no way I was coming out of the dressing room to show him. Not a chance in hell.

I slammed the door of the stall shut with a bang, leaning against it as I took a moment to catch my breath. I was being ridiculous. It didn't matter what Trevor thought of me in some dress, and it didn't matter if he saw me in it or not. Trevor was my friend, he wasn't about to lose his shit over me. So, it was fine.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Okay. It's fine. I'm fine.

I peeled off my school blouse hesitantly, cringing at the sight of my bare stomach in the mirror. Next came my pleated skirt, as I willed my anxiety to stay silent for a few moments so I could at the very least try on a black dress that I liked. It wasn't like I had to get it, all I wanted to do was see if I could pull it off.

This was a completely normal thing that teenage girls did, right? Girls did this all the time.

Stepping into the black dress, I pulled it over my curved hips with my bottom lip between my teeth. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and paused, raising both eyebrows. So far, it wasn't completely horrible, I mean, at least it fit?

I tied the neck into a small bow, looking myself up and down quizzically. The fabric was nice, it did feel great, and the fit suited my body type almost too well. I wasn't sure how, but the dress was basically perfect. This never happened.

Maybe I would get it, after all?

I must have been silent for a moment too long, because soon enough, Bokuto's hesitant voice spoke up from the other side of the door.

"Milly?" he asked, his tone sounding cautious, as if he didn't want to scare me. "Is it nice?"

"I . . ." I chewed on the inside of my cheek, contemplating. "I . . . I don't know."

"C-can I see?"

It was silent between for the space of several heart beats, as I stood as still as a statue, unsure of what to do. A moment ago, I was absolutely positive that I didn't want Trevor to see me in this dress, in fact, I was sure of it. But now that I've got it on and I don't think it's totally hideous, I'm torn. In a sense, I needed a second opinion, but at the same time, I didn't exactly want that opinion to be his.

It was terrifying, really, what would he say? How would he react? What if he hated it? What if he . . .

"Milly?" he mumbled. "Did you hear--"

"No."

I furrowed my brow at the prolonged silence that followed my response.

"No?" he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"N-no," I stammered, already halfway through yanking the dress off my trembling body. "No. You can't see. It doesn't look good at all. Let's just go."

"Are you sure?" he whispered, leaning his head against the door with a pout as his heart ached at the self conscious tone I didn't realise was so obvious in my voice.

"Y-yes," I breathed, closing my eyes tightly. I took a shaky breath before throwing on my uniform faster than I ever had before and leaving the change room in a haste, effectively startling Trevor half to death. I plastered a smile on my lips, one that Trevor noticed didn't quite reach my eyes. "I'm starving, anyway. Come on, let's get hot wings."

Not wanting to stay on the topic of the dress for a second longer, Trevor complied with a grin of his own, hoping that food might just cheer me up. "You really are a girl after my own heart, Milly."

I sighed. "I know."