Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

2. Speak to Me

2

Speak to Me

I found Sparkles petting a fluffy boot, though neither her nor Zack saw me from several displays away.

“Those won’t be good for summer,” he said, his voice carrying, “I thought you needed a pair to last the whole year.”

“I do,” she said.

“So why are you wasting your time with these?”

She put the boot back on the display and shrugged. “They spoke to me.”

“They’re shoes. They don’t speak.”

“Not to you, maybe,” she teased.

He sighed and shook his head. “I need coffee for this. You said Harvey’s working?”

“Yeah, you can go ahead, although I kinda wanted to surprise him.” Her fingers danced across the shelves. “I guess I’ll go with you and come back later. I should say goodbye to my friend, first.”

“That girl is not your friend,” he said.

I strangled an indignant noise in the back of my throat. The guy had teammates and cheerleaders in every class. What did he know about friendship?

“Hey,” I said, overly bright–at least in tone, if not form, and dangled the pink gym shoes at her. “What do you think of these?”

Zack glared, his shoulder blocking the path between us, but the girl brightened considerably.

“I love pink,” Sparkles said. “I’m not sure if gym shoes would be too casual to match my outfit, though.”

“Do you have a pic of it?” I asked.

“Absolutely. One sec.” She hummed along with the mall’s holiday music as she swiped through her phone gallery.

I narrowed my eyes at Zack and briefly faked another smile so he could see how nice I could be. Not for him. For Sparkles. Sugarplum. Whatever her stage name may be.

His nostrils flared, and he shifted to her side. What was he, her bodyguard? The worst I could do was sign her up for a credit card–and there wasn’t even a bonus when it was other mall employees.

Sparkles held up her phone. “Here it is.”

My eyes widened, and I reached for the battered screen. In the photo, she was wearing a couture corset and skirt costume. Prima ballerina meets ren-faire fairy vibes. That girl's playful preening, even in some random hallway, was totally portfolio-worthy.

“Where did you get that outfit?” I asked. “What brand is it?”

“My family made it for me. They’re very handy.” She beamed and nudged Zack’s arm. “This one’s better at shoveling than sewing–”

“Somebody needs to do it.” He tugged his earlobe.

“But he can also keep a good beat. Like me.” Sparkles jokingly bobbed along to the current song.

“No dancing,” he deadpanned. “Please. Not before coffee.”

“Okay.” She straightened and texted someone, much more low-key happy.

“Are you…family?” I asked.

Sparkles flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, yes. Sorry for the lack of introductions. Nicole, this my cousin, Zack.”

“Zack Turner, right?” I nodded at his sweatshirt. “Westbrook High.”

He furrowed his brow. “You went there?”

“Yep.” Of course he wouldn’t recognize me. There must have been a thousand students at Westbrook High. Why would he remember the girl texting under her desk?

Sparkles grinned. “Wow, what a co-in-key-dink. I wonder if we ever had any classes with you.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. Her bubbly attitude would’ve been memorable enough to grate on my sleep-deprived ass back then. Now, it was fine. Zack, on the other hand…

He clasped his cousin on the shoulder. “She would’ve remembered you,” he said.

Huh. We were kind of on the same wavelength about that. Weird, but whatever.

I led them through the aisles. “I have some ideas for this party princess ensemble. Ballet flats would be easy to dance in, but they’re not super supportive. Maybe wedge boots in a warm brown? Or Boms, which have fuzzy insoles on a few of their selections.”

“Fuzzy insoles?” She skipped after me.

I shot her a smile over my shoulder. “I thought you might be intrigued.”

“Remember, these have to be good for all seasons.” Zack brought up the caboose, studying me like he thought I was being smug or shady. Maybe I was. Why not be proud or lay it on thick when I was good at something?

Style was subjective. I had a decent idea of what Sparkles might need.

After trying on a few options, Sparkles admired her Boms-adorned feet in the tall mirror on the side of a support column. “I love these. They’re fun and practical enough for a princess.”

I nodded. The glory of fashion was true expression and confidence. “They come in a wedge, slip-on, and high-top. All different patterns.”

“Oh, let me see.” Sparkles pulled up the options on her phone. She texted and took pics throughout the process.

Zack slumped against the other side of the column. Hadn’t he ever shopped with someone else? Patience was key. Or he could be like Theo, who often split off to do his own thing. These cousins could easily reconvene at The Bern for coffee.

Her phone pinged, so she checked the screen. “Harvey.” She gasped and took off across the store, her coat and hair billowing behind her.

“Wait, the shoes aren’t supposed to leave the area,” I called, then whipped around to Zack, my chest tight. “Those shoes have a security alarm. If she sets it off–”

“She won’t go far. She just wanted to surprise someone.” Zack shifted his gaze over my shoulder.

Sparkles leaped into her tall, pierced-and-tatted boyfriend’s arms in the far end of our section. He laughed and held her close, balancing her and the coffee in his hands. She kissed his face and chatted with him excitedly.

Zack stared into the overhead lights like that was less painful than witnessing their PDA.

“Are they always like this?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, the word steeped with hollow, disgusted resignation.

The singular time I’d had lunch with this couple, I’d spent most of it tuning them out while listening to my boyfriend’s latest attempts at making an album, although I did remember them smiling at each other a lot. They probably played footsie under the table. Honeymoon phase or whatever. I couldn’t remember the last time Theo had greeted me with anything other than “Hey, baby” and maybe a kiss on the cheek.

Being that excited to see your partner wasn’t normal. Not in a bad way or anything. Just not mature, like Theo and mine’s relationship. Two years changed things. We didn’t need to be all hug-and-kissy.

I played with my watch, then tidied the closest shelf. Might as well pretend to be busy. Not like Zack and I had anything to talk about. He didn’t even ask what year I graduated, the egomaniac.

He cleared his throat. “So, you, uh, work here now?”

“Yeah.” Obviously. Did he think I should be somewhere else? I doubted he’d care if I was on the cover of a magazine. Before I could ask what he did for a living, the cozy couple walked over to us.

Harvey slung his arm around Sparkles’ shoulder and offered Zack a coffee. “Hey, special delivery.”

“Thanks, man.” He sipped his drink, then grunted per caveman standards and vaguely lifted the cup in appreciation. “Much needed.”

Sparkles hugged her boyfriend tight and gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry for running off like that. I can get you coffee later if you’d like any.”

“No worries,” I said. Coffee stunted growth, and I needed every millimeter I could get for the runway. “Just let me know when you pick your style and color.”

“Right.” She looked at her phone with dedicated studiousness. “Um…”

Harvey leaned over. “Do the high-tops. They’re the same cut as the elf shoes. You liked those, and we’d kinda match.” He nudged her with his combat boots and smirked, a piercing dark against his lip. Was he a punk, a hipster, or totally whipped?

“That'd be nice. Thanks.” She smiled at him like he had hung the stars in the sky instead of suggesting some footwear.

What was with those two? They acted as if hugs and coffee were diamonds and caviar.

I glanced at Zack, who’d zoned out to coffee land, and braced myself for more weirdness as I said, “All you need to do is pick which color. Then, you can be on your way.”

“Finally,” Zack muttered into his cup.

Harvey leaned close to her ear. “What do you think, princess?”

I frowned and tried not to visibly stiffen at the term of endearment. ‘Princess’ was extra, even if it was her profession. Was he being condescending or cute? Most guys who called me that were the former. Harvey might’ve been sarcastic the first time we met, but he probably knew Sparkles liked it. Even Zack the Bodyguard seemed chill, so I was probably overreacting. Pet names were normal between couples. I had ‘baby’ from my boyfriend. That was more than enough sentimentality. I was a strong, independent woman. I even had a stage name.

I glanced at the nearby mirror and crossed my arms over my neon-green shirt. My job title wasn’t part of my ‘brand’ any more than a pet name indicated someone’s affection. I was no longer that invisible girl from high school, but for some reason, I couldn’t shake the ghost of her in my reflection.