Page 47 of I Blame the Dimples
“Welcome to Townhall, otherwise known as the shopping district of Taber.” My announcer voice is sold with the perfect cheesy grin combination. Trip unbuckles her seat belt – the material flailing wildly as it returns home – and leans forward to peer through the cracked windshield.
“It’s so… ugly.” I chuckle and lean back against Lola’s fabric seats. The lack of leather is not by choice, let me tell you.
“Wait until you see the inside.” Misty eyes flick to mine in alarm.
“The interior has aworsecolour choice?” Her concern is not for nothing. Townhall somehow managed to find the exact shade of well, shit, and covered every inch of their shopping mall in it.
“Oh no, don’t worry. The interior has the samecolour scheme. But the inside florescent lighting does wonders for this particular shade of brown.” Trip starts to giggle, and the sound spreads warmth through my chest. On my list of favourite things, her laughter is right up there with her shampoo.
Trip turns to grab the door handle and I grab her arm to stop her. “I’ll get it. Lola’s a locked vault once we’re inside.” A single eyebrow raises in my direction.
“Are we trapped?”
Considering I just vacuumed those backseats, being locked in here wouldn’t be the worst situation. I have a few ideas on how we could pass time.
“Not as long as you know the combination.” Keeping my thoughts to myself, I throw her a wink and proceed to kick the inside of my door as hard as I can.
And this fellas, is why we don’t skip leg day.
A good two minutes of strenuous effort passes until finally the driver’s door swings open with an ear-splitting screech. I hop out of the car, freedom greeting me at long last, and scurry over to wretch the passenger side open.
“Well, you definitely cracked the safe.” Trip smirks up at me as she climbs out of the car.
I give her a modest shrug, “Lola can confirm my burglary skills are top of the line.”
“I can see that. And now I know why her frame is so bent out of shape.”
I gasp and rub my hands over Lola’s hood. “She doesn’t mean that, gorgeous. You’re amazing just the way you are.” Rolling her eyes, Trip nods towards the turd-coloured building.
“Come on, Bruno Mars. We’ve got an emergency to evade.”
Lou
Ugly.Sougly.
And this time the visual assault is not in reference to the unfortunate brown coloured walls surrounding me. Oh no. This time it’s the man in front of me who is burning my retinas to the point of no return. Want to know the worst part about the bright orange dress shirt causing permanent damage? The gigantic smile plastered on Wes’ face as he admires himself in the mirror.
“It will match my jersey perfectly!”
Correction: it will give the Taber Tiger mascot a run for his money.
“Or maybe we could find a black shirt to coordinate with the stripes?” My suggestion sounds desperate but it’s the best I’ve got without flat out insulting him. He turns from the dressing mirror, looking me dead in the eye.
“You don’t like it?” I gulp, trying to remember how much honesty it takes to break a friendship.
“It’s not that Idon’tlike it…” I trail off, biting back the H word. I know hate is a strong word but it’s the only one that appropriately describes my feelings towards this gaudy piece of clothing.
“But?” Wes’ eyes twinkle with mischief, the orange overpowering the green pigment in his irises. That in itself should be a crime.
“I just think a different colour might be more flattering.” Shopping has never been more excruciating. Is this what bridesmaids feel like?
“Hmm…” He turns back to the mirror, assessing the shirt from different angles. “If you don’t like it, you can just say so.” There’s a tease in his voice that has me narrowing my eyes.
“Is this a test?” The innocent look he shoots my way confirms it. Wes is a lot of things, but innocent is not one of them.
“Why would I be testing you?” Busted. I send a scowl his way and the smirk on his face grows into a full-fledged, dimpled smile.
“Not that I’m confirming this is a test, but if itwere, maybe I just wanted to see how far your people pleasing tendencies stray.” He strikes a pose in the mirror; the orange assaulting people around the world.