Page 28 of Commit

I shake my head and ignore her protests, leading her into the brightly lit store.

The woman behind the counter offers me a small smile. “Mr. Smith, it’s nice to see you again. How can I help you today?”

“This is Starling. She needs a whole new wardrobe. It should include everything from pajamas to formal wear.”

“I don’t need anything dressy. I only go to school and home. Please don’t waste your money on me,” she tells me softly.

I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“It’s my money to waste, Birdie.”

Chapter Nine

Starling

Istare up at him, torn between punching him in the eye and kicking him in the shin. Why won’t the damn man listen?

“Look, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I just need a couple of pairs of jeans, and I’ll be good.”

Hudson looks from me to the shop assistant. “Bring what you find over to the changing rooms.”

“Of course. Can I get either of you something to drink?”

“Black coffee for me. Starling?” I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine, but he gives me a look and answers for me. “Bring her a bottle of water.”

Hudson tugs on my hand and leads me to the changing rooms. He ushers me inside one of the rooms and turns me to look at him.

“Laura will bring you a bunch of things to try on. Try on everything. I’m going to sit out there and make some phone calls.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him, leaving me to curse him out under my breath. Fine, it’s his time to waste. Who cares what Laura brings? I’ll stick to what I need and tell him the rest didn’t fit. I take my jacket off and hang it on one of the hooks behind the door, then bend down and untie my boots. I take them off and slide them under the bench seat so I don’t trip over them.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I open it and find Laura with a polite smile on her face and clothes draped over her arm.

I grit my teeth when I don’t spot a single pair of jeans and let her in so she can hang up everything.

“I guessed your size, so if something doesn’t fit, just let me know.”

I nod.

“Excellent. I’ll leave you to try these pieces on, and I’ll keep looking.”

I offer her a weak smile before closing the door. With a sigh, I look through everything, selecting a floral skirt and white tank top with three tiny pink buttons in the shape of flowers. I get undressed, leaving just my bra and panties on, and then pull on the skirt and tank top.

They’re feminine and pretty, yet soft and comfortable, which is always good. It’s flattering and an unusual choice for me since I tend to prefer darker colors. With a denim jacket thrown on and a pair of white sandals, this would be a cute outfit for the summer. It’s certainly something I’d see other girls wearing at school.

I think of the cheerleaders who are always lusting after Abbot and grin. Okay, so the top would need to be cropped and the skirt four inches shorter, but that’s not me. It’s not that they don’t look good. They do, and they know how to work it. But I prefer to cover up, and short skirts require grace, which is something I lack. Knowing my luck, I’d bend over and forget about my skirt and flash everyone. Then, before I knew it, there would be pictures of my panty-covered ass all over the internet. Yeah, short skirts are not for me, not in school anyway. I’m trying to blend in, not stand out.

I take off the tank and skirt, look at the price of the skirt, and nearly swallow my tongue. Five hundred dollars for a skirt? I grab the tank top and feel my eyes bug out of my head. Ninety dollars for a freaking tank top. That’s insanity.

I yank the door open when I hear knocking, and Laura shoves more clothes at me. At least this pile has jeans.

“This is too much—” I protest, but she’s already walking away.

With an annoyed huff, I close the door harder than necessary. I stand there fuming as I look in the mirror. How is this my life right now? I’ve gone from nobody giving a damn about me to every other person insisting they know what’s best for me and telling me what to do.

Feeling beyond frustrated, I pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with two cherries on the front. The jeans are incredibly comfortable and fit like a glove, making my ass look amazing. The T-shirt is, well, a T-shirt, but the cherry design is not my style at all.

I reach for the hem and have the T-shirt half over my head when there’s another knock on the door. With a huff, I reach out blindly with one hand and pull the door open. When the sales lady doesn’t say anything, I tug the T-shirt lower and blow my hair out of my face and freeze. It’s not Laura in front of me, but Hudson.