chapter twenty-seven

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Warren

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Warren

Shopping. Why the hell did I agree to go shopping? Why the hell did I even take Nova's suggestion into consideration?

Spending the day at the mall has been torturous to my mental health. My physical health could beg to differ on that statement, though. With all the bags I'm carrying, I might as well have been continuously bench-pressing for the past three hours. I guess I shouldn't be complaining – my already-killer spike is going to be wicked next season – but good God, women can shop.

Okay, well, Julia can shop.

Nova's barely bought anything, save for a couple of new books by authors I've never heard of and a new pair of leggings for her "addictive" spin classes. Other than the lack of bags Nova has accumulated, she's carrying them herself. Julia, on the other hand, has used Easton's stupidity to her advantage. Seriously – he ran out of arm space over an hour ago and that's why I'm stuck carrying the extra bags.

"Man," I say to East as the girls walk into yet another store. "At this rate, you're going to have to buy a new suitcase for the flight to Vancouver."

"Fuck that," he mutters. "At this rate, I'm gonna need to rent a plane."

"And how are you going to pay for that plane after you pay me for carrying these damn bags?" I joke.

"Shut up, Warren," he mutters.

Walking into H&M, I do a quick scan for any nearby seats. Instead, my eyes find Nova. She's standing at one of the clearance racks near the cashier. I smile to myself. One thing I've noticed is that she practically gravitates to the sale signs. Unless we're in Indigo or some other bookstore – price doesn't seem to exist when it comes to books. I don't understand her mentality, but whatever floats her boat, right?

With a concentrated look, she sorts through the hangers, stopping when she comes to a sleeveless grey jersey dress. I don't know why that particular dress catches her attention. It's...simple. Grey and basic.

Glancing around, I notice that East and Julia have migrated to the back of the store; both of them are looking at dress shoes. Seeing as they're both busy, I walk over to Nova, adjusting the goddamned bags.

"Like the dress?" I ask, leaning against the rack.

Nova jolts backwards, as if she didn't hear me walk up. The disoriented look in her eyes quickly turns to a look of amity and she smiles at me.

"Yes," she replies. "I don't wear a lot of dresses, but I like this one. And...and it's on sale. I think I might buy it."

Because my mind seems to naturally succumb to picturing what she looks like in certain clothing, I picture her in that dress. Everything about the image is the same, minus the colour of the dress. Man, there's something about the colour grey that doesn't suit her; it's dull and bland and so unlike her that I just can't picture her in it. What she needs is that style in black.

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