Chapter 7
Bluebell
Lemon’s gasp of surprise has me turning to where she stands just outside one of the Bodice’s two small dressing rooms. She steps onto a small platform and twirls in front of the half circle of mirrors, eyeing the black cowboy boots on her tiny feet.
I’ve been home a few days and managed to unpack most of what I bought in Santa Alaya.
“That turquoise buckle is a game changer, Bluebell,” she says, voice full of awe. “It’s subtle but still so damn gorgeous.”
Above us, the Bodice shimmies her ceiling beams—the first happy noise I’ve heard her make.
“You gotta get ‘em,” Oz states before crunching into a crisp red apple. He munches loudly as Lemon and I share a smile. At his feet, Ginger shuffles and puts her head on top of his foot.
Oz looks over, swallowing the bite. “You get the Bodice a gift while you were in Santa Alaya?”
The building goes silent again, and discomfort prickles up my spine. Black magic sings through my fingers, anxious to be of use. It’s almost painful to hold it back and not help.
“Yeah.” I wave at Lemon’s shoes. “These and a bunch of other options arrived early this morning, and there’s a stunning metal display cactus in the back. I’m planning to use it in the front window to hang belts on.”
Oz looks up at the building. “And…you love it or what, sister?”
The Bodice remains silent, and he and I share a warning look.
“Just channel me.” Lemon spins in place, admiring the boots. “Rest easy knowing your exuberance wears everyone down eventually.”
The Bodice lets out a warning shimmy, and the walls tremble. A few of the western prints fall off and slide to the ground.
“Not sure she agrees,” I say with a frown. “But one thing we can agree on is that those boots suit you, Lem.”
“Give me the same ones in purple,” Oz says, rising and flaring his wings only to retuck them.
He cocks his head to the side, his long horns flexing and straightening.
“Tell me you got gargoyle purple to match my eyes.” Reaching up, he nudges his brand new slutty little glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Those are darling,” Lemon says with a little clap. “I know you don’t need them but you look so studious, Oz my sweet.”
He takes a little bow.
The Bodice emits a series of squeaks and rumbles, which we all take as an affirmation of her agreement about the glasses.
Heading into the store room where this morning’s shipment is still waiting to be fully unpacked, I grab Oz a pair of purple boots with a giant inlaid turquoise buckle.
They’re hella impractical but absolutely stunning.
When I emerge with both boot boxes beneath my arms, I’m surprised to find Hadrian standing there with his hands in his front pockets. Lemon and Oz are both silent, staring at him.
“Alk, hey,” I say, nearly breathless at seeing him again this afternoon. We just said goodbye yesterday, but I half didn’t want to leave. There was something so nice about hanging with him away from PG and my family and all the trappings us Tuckers come with.
He smiles at Oz and Lemon. “I’m in no rush, Bluebell, but I was hoping you could fit me for some new clothing when you have a sec?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I’m thankful to be so tan right now because hopefully I don’t look like I’m blushing.
“We’ll just pay and get outta here,” Lemon says, barely masking a huge smile. Next to her, Oz is smiling politely at Hadrian, his hands clasped at his waist where he still holds his apple.
“Erm…nice game in Santa Alaya. I heard you scored, like, a buncha goals.”
Oh my gods. I’m gonna slap Oz. He doesn’t know the first thing about skyball despite having gone to a half dozen games with me.
“Thanks, Oz,” Hadrian says. “Appreciate that. It was a fun game.”
“You know my name?!” Oz shrieks, looking between us all in apparent shock. “I had no idea!”
Hadrian laughs, and it’s so deep and sexy, I bite my lip and cross my legs at the ankle as I ring Lemon up.
“Yeah,” he says to Oz. “You’ve probably served me two dozen times since I moved home. Sorry if I haven’t actually introduced myself. I forget to, and I’ve got my nose buried in books more often than not.”
“Well, that’s adorable,” Oz says. “Gotta love a bookish man, don’t we?”
“Wait,” Hadrian says, cocking his head to the side. “Are the glasses new, though?”
“Yeah!” Oz chirps, shuffling his big leathery wings. “I mean I don’t actually need them, they’re just cute, you know?”
Of course we fucking do, I’m about to hiss. Stop talking!
We all fall silent, and I resist the urge to kick Oz or slap him or just generally tell him to stop being weird.
I ring him and Lemon up faster than I’ve ever rung up anyone, begging them with my eyeballs to leave without saying anything else random. Lemon grabs Oz by the elbow and directs him toward the door, thanking both me and the Bodice. The building quakes and squeaks happily as they leave.
Hadrian winks at me. “Long time no see.”
I wave him toward the back as I grab my measuring tape.
Rebekah, the vampire I bought the Bodice from, gave me a primer on measuring for custom clothing just before she left.
Hadrian’s going to be my first customer, though, so hopefully I get it right.
I’m unexpectedly nervous, but it’s hard to tell if that’s because I’ll have to touch him or what.
“Stand in front of the mirror, please.” I head to the storeroom and grab a small step stool because there’s no way I can reach his neck and shoulders on my own. When I emerge, he’s standing on the small platform eyeing himself in the mirror with a frown.
I open up the step stool next to him and climb up it, resting my forearm on his shoulder as I meet his gaze in the mirror.
Play it cool, Bluebell. Friends. Friends. Friends.
“Why are you glaring at yourself, Alk?”
He cocks his head to the side, which brings his gorgeous long horns close to my face.
“Irritated that none of my shit fits anymore and wondering if I’m gonna have to do this again in a few months.
Coach wants me to bulk, though, so here we are.
All of that to say, maybe I can get some clothing with a little stretch to it like Furyon has? ”
I eye Hadrian’s broad shoulders. He’s right that he’s pushing his current clothing to its absolute limits. The fabric over his chest is pulled tight, the buttons barely holding back his pecs.
“Furyon’s fabric’s hella expensive because it has to stretch to accommodate his large form, like three times his normal size. I don’t think we need to do that for you, but we can if you think you’ll grow that much.”
He glances over at me. “You’re the expert. What do you think?”
This is actually a great chance for me to include the Bodice, so I look upward.
“Hey, Bodice, what do you think? If he’s going to pack on ten or twenty pounds, will a stretchy jean fabric work, or do we need something like—”
She rumbles happily, and I take that as agreement.
“Stretchy pants it is,” I say with a laugh. “Tell me what all you need, and I’ll take all of your measurements.”
“Sweatpants, hoodies, jeans, pearl-snap shirts and a couple tees too. V-neck ideally. Nothing I have at home fits at all.”
“‘Kay, stand real still for me, alright? I’m going to grab a notebook and take down all of your measurements. For an order like this, it’ll take about a week. Is that alright?”
He nods. “Yeah, for sure.”
Hopping down from the step stool, I grab a notebook and pencil, then return and set them on the floor next to his huge feet.
Back on top of the stool, I start with his neck, and move my way down to his shoulder and back. He’s quiet while I work, perfectly still and silent. When I move to his front and direct him to lift his arms, I try not to stare at the way his muscles flex beneath the too-tight shirt.
“Hold there,” I say quietly, taking measurement after measurement, which I add to the notebook. When I’m done up high, I move in front of him and wrap the tape around his chest. Working quickly so it doesn’t get awkward, I measure around the top of his chest and right beneath his pecs.
It’s then I notice Lemon and Oz standing at the front window, staring in at us. I blow out an exasperated breath, shaking my head. Hadrian doesn’t turn to look, but he chuckles.
“What was that for?”
“We’ve got onlookers,” I mutter.
He sighs. “I’d like to say you get used to it, but most of the time, I want to hide at your house.”
I snicker. “Remember when you first got recruited to the Academy team, and Dad ran that minotaur reporter off with a shotgun?”
Hadrian’s eyes sparkle. “Yeah. And remember when I moved here and everybody was staring at me in Whiskey Business, and Jasper told off the entire bar? It’s what I love about your family. One of the many reasons I prefer yours over mine.”
I take another measurement at the end of his rib cage, trying not to notice how hard his abs are beneath the shirt’s fabric. “Where are your folks right now, anyways?”
“Somewhere in Brazil still,” he mutters, his tone frustrated.
“You know how they forget that time passes faster here inside the havens. They think they’ve been gone for two months, and it’s years for us.
Their research into gargoyles in ancient cultures always sorta came first, but I’m not bitter or anything. ”
It’s impossible not to see it bothers him, but it’s a conversation we’ve had many times.
And it’s one of the reasons he started spending summers with us at eight years old.
His folks and mine are old friends, and they love to disappear into their work for years at a time.
It often takes them deep into dangerous jungles and they never liked to bring him.
It’s my opinion they just didn’t want to have to deal with a kid tagging along and asking a million questions. Buncha a-holes.
“I’m sorry they’re not around much.” I slide the tape down and pull it carefully taut over his belly button.
He says nothing, but he’s tense.