Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Eli
“Shit, shit, bugger, arse, bollocking fucking shit!” I stared at the shoe in my hand, which was currently in two pieces, the heel snapped clean off. Shoes were not supposed to be in two pieces! This was what I got for buying piece of shit knock-off Pleasers and spray-painting them more times than I could count.
“What’s wrong?” Tristan stuck his head around my bedroom door. I held out the pieces of shoe. “Bugger.”
“My sentiments exactly.” I threw the pieces of shoe onto the bed. I was supposed to be packing for It’s a Drag! tomorrow night because, even though Nottingham was only an hour or so away, Tristan had insisted on getting us a hotel room for Saturday night. He’d said it was so I’d have somewhere nice to get ready and a space to decompress afterwards, and we wouldn’t have to drive home late at night. Plus, it meant we could drink if we wanted to, and I was definitely going to need it. Now, though, I was going to spend the next hour freaking out over shoe choices. Or at least spray painting my other pair and hoping they held.
“Just breathe,” Tristan said, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my torso. He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck. “It’s going to be okay. Will your other pair do?”
“They’ll have to.”
“Do you need to wear heels?” He kissed my neck again, and I melted against him. That was definitely my weak spot.
“I mean, I don’t have to, but I want to.” I sighed. I’d been trying out wearing some of my old, battered Converse at The Court, and while it had done wonders for my foot pain at the end of the night, this was an occasion that called for heels. “I know they’re uncomfortable as fuck, but they make me feel good. Powerful. Like I’m in full Bitch mode.”
“Okay then, heels it is.” Tristan was quiet for a second, trailing kisses down my shoulder. My worries suddenly began to feel less significant. This was an excellent distraction technique. “We’ll fix the problem in the morning before we leave.”
“But—” That definitely wouldn’t give me enough time to spray-paint them black and white from the luminous green they currently were.
Tristan turned me in his arms, bringing one hand up to cup my jaw. He smiled softly at me, his stormy eyes full of emotion. “Trust me,” he said. “I promise it’ll be fine.”
I believed him.
“Okay.”
He kissed me softly, pressing his tongue into my mouth. My fingers found the front of his shirt, gripping the material tightly. Tristan moaned softly into the kiss. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered. “Please.”
“Okay.”
Tristan sank to his knees.
The next morning, after more sleep than I’d anticipated, I found myself being woken up to soft kisses and a tray of coffee and pastries. I blinked several times, trying to get my head around what I was seeing because I was pretty sure my eyes were lying to me. I didn’t think anyone had ever brought me breakfast in bed.
“Good morning,” Tristan said, kissing the top of my head. He was already dressed and looked remarkably chipper. “I got you some breakfast, and once you’re finished, we just need to nip out before we leave.”
“We do?” I looked up at him and then down at the tray Tristan had slid onto the bed next to me. The croissants were warm as were the pain au chocolat. I wondered if he could be any more perfect. “Where?”
“You’ll see.” He grinned at me, then reached for one of the pain au chocolat.
“Hey! I thought those were mine.”
“This one is payment for services rendered.”
“I didn’t realise I had to pay for breakfast in my own house,” I said, raising an eyebrow and shuffling into a better sitting position, propping myself against the pillows like a Victorian lady of leisure. Tristan laughed.
“I can take it away if you want.”
“Don’t touch my breakfast.” I picked up the tray and balanced it on my lap. There was even coffee in a cafetiere. I didn’t think I owned one. “I was just expressing my disbelief.” I poured myself some of the coffee before picking up one of the pain au chocolat and biting into it. It was warm and rich and buttery and chocolaty and delicious, and I needed a whole plate of them. Which luckily I had. Minus one.
“I’m sorry.” He smirked. “Next time you can pay another way.”
“Cheeky brat,” I said, sipping my coffee.
“You sound like an old man.”
I snorted. “I’m definitely becoming one.”
“When are you thirty?” Tristan laughed.
“Next year. End of July. I want to have a big party, and the whole theme is going to be ‘Funeral for my Youth’. Everyone has to wear black and look fabulous. Like Met Gala fabulous. But, like, budget Met Gala.” I reached for a croissant, noting the little scoops of butter and jam Tristan had put on a small plate.
“I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll make sure I’m suitably dressed for the occasion. Maybe I’ll even get a new suit.”
“I’m going to insist upon it.” I grinned. There was something about the fact Tristan expected us to be together next year and was talking so casually about getting a new suit that made my heart want to burst with joy. It was like it was a given nothing was going to change between now and then.
We chatted while I finished my breakfast and my coffee, then Tristan took the tray away to wash up, and I got dressed. December had descended upon us and brought unseasonably cold weather, at least for the UK, so I wrapped myself up in several layers before we left, pulling an old My Chemical Romance beanie over my freshly trimmed hair. Tristan looked very smart in his dark peacoat with a red scarf wrapped around his neck and black gloves. We made a delightfully odd pair as we walked hand in hand towards Lincoln High Street.
“So where are we going then?” I asked as we skirted through the crowds of Christmas shoppers.
“You’ll see.”
“You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”
“Nope.” Tristan looked down at me and grinned. “We’re nearly there anyway.”
He steered me towards the Cornhill area, past the doughnut shop that did the most amazing homemade creations which always made me drool whenever I saw them on Instagram. I glanced at the sign, wondering whether we’d have time to stop and get one. Tristan must have seen me looking because he squeezed my fingers. “Let’s stop on the way back and get some to take with us.”
“Pastries and doughnuts? Do you want me to have a sugar rush?”
“You deserve it. And you can always save it until this evening.”
“Fuck no. I’m eating it before then. I want to be able to savour it and not worry about it repeating on me.” I hadn’t decided if I was nervous or not, and neither had my body. So far, my brain seemed to be thinking it was just another show, and I wanted it to stay that way. I looked at the shops around us, and right before we reached it, I twigged where Tristan was taking me. Robot Monkey, Lincoln’s very own alternative store.
Once upon a time, there’d been a huge shop in town called Blue Banana, but it had closed when the company had decided to shrink their operations. I’d loved that shop as a teenager and had been almost bereft when it had closed. A couple of years ago, it had been replaced by something new. The owner couldn’t have been much older than me, and I wondered if he’d opened it because he’d also had fond memories of browsing band hoodies and printed tees with cartoon slogans and gazing longingly at the wall of Docs and Vans, wishing they didn’t cost so much.
“Here we go,” said Tristan, pushing the door open and pulling me into the warmth. Before I could say anything, he dragged me over to the wall of shoes, which included a wide variety of sky-high Mary Janes with cute heart cut outs, stilettos, and those knee-high platform boots with a million buckles I’d secretly lusted after for years. “Pick some new shoes.”
“What?” I stared at him and then back at the shoes, my face wrinkling in confusion.
“You said you wanted to wear heels today, but it’s too late to order some, and you’ll never get the others painted in time. So let’s get you some new ones. My treat.” He squeezed my hand, his expression a mix of giddy excitement and extreme fondness. “Please,” he said, quieter this time. “You do so much for me, and I’m so proud of you. Let me treat you. It’s the least I can do.”
“A-are you sure?” It sounded unreal, and Tristan did just as much for me. I didn’t really think I’d done anything for him except bring him out of his shell a little.
“Positive. Anything you want. I want you to feel like the true bitch you are when you’re on stage tonight.”
“You are amazing,” I said, leaning up to give him a kiss. “Truly, Tristan Rose. I’ve never met anyone like you.” Tristan flushed. I’d forgotten how cute he looked when he was embarrassed. “Okay. Let’s pick some shoes!”
I began to peruse the shelves, picking up a couple of pairs of cute Mary Janes and some ankle boots and turning them over in my hands. I’d always considered myself lucky in that, for a man, I had quite small feet. They were only a size nine, and these days most women’s shoes went up that far, so as long as they had some in stock, I’d be fine. I dismissed the stilettos because the angle for my foot was too steep, and I wouldn’t be able to walk in them. My normal shoes were tall, but they had platforms so my feet were at a smaller incline inside them. They were still seven inches off the floor, but once I’d learnt to walk in platforms and realised I couldn’t rely on feeling the ground underneath me, they were pretty easy to wear. At least in my opinion.
“Can I help you?” A pretty person with mermaid hair, blue lipstick, and a variety of piercings appeared from between the racks of dresses. They were wearing a very cute black dress with lace trim that was giving me the most gorgeous gothic Lolita vibes. “Do you want to try anything on?”
“Perfect timing,” I said, beaming at them. “Do you have these in a nine? And those as well? Oooh, and these.” I pointed at three different pairs. My eyes lingered on a pair of the taller boots that were patent, knee-high platforms with silver buckles and strapping running across the front. I’d always wanted a pair like them, but they were very expensive, and even though Tristan had offered to pay, I didn’t want to take advantage of him.
“Only those three?” Tristan asked. “You don’t want to try any of those boots?”
“No, it’s fine.” I tore my eyes away from them. “They’re too…” I tried to think of the right word or at least one that wasn’t expensive .
“I think you should,” Tristan said. He pointed at the pair I’d been gazing at. “Those?”
“Er…”
“He’d like to try those boots too, please, if you have them in a nine,” Tristan said to the salesperson. They smiled, looking at us with an almost adoring expression.
“I’ll see what we’ve got! Take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” They disappeared off through the racks of clothing towards the counter.
“Do you need any clothes or anything else while we’re here?” Tristan asked, walking over to one of the racks and casually examining some of the dresses. “I don’t mind if you want one.”
“I’m fine. I’m going to wear one of my old favourites because it’s comfortable. It fits, and I know I’m not going to flash the audience while I’m wearing it.” Tristan laughed.
“That makes sense.”
I’d debated getting something new, but in the end, I wanted something I felt comfortable in. I didn’t want to buy something new and find it didn’t fit or rode up when I walked. Spending my whole performance tugging my dress over my ass wasn’t the vibe I was going for.
“Thanks for this,” I said, reaching my hand out and taking Tristan’s. “You really are too sweet.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We have to make sure they fit first.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but the salesperson reappeared, carrying a stack of boxes so high they had to peer around them. “Okay,” they said, slowly lowering the boxes onto the nearby padded bench. “I’ve got the knee-high boots and two of the pairs you wanted. We didn’t have the one with the purple hearts, but we do have a really cute pair of ankle boots that we literally just got in, so I brought you those to try instead.” They pointed at the bench where they’d left some room for me to perch. “Are you going to be wearing socks under them or tights?”
“Tights,” I said, sliding off the old pair of Docs I’d been wearing. “Bugger, I should have brought some with me.”
“Don’t worry. I brought you some pop socks just in case.” They handed me a pair of thin, nylon socks. “I’m River, by the way,” they said.
“I’m Eli. And this is Tristan, who has graciously offered to help me buy new shoes since I broke mine.”
“Oh no! Broken shoes are the worst! But that is very sweet.”
I nodded. “It really is. And in return, I’ll buy him a doughnut.” River laughed.
“What he’s not telling you,” Tristan said with a mischievous grin from over River’s shoulder, “is that he’s performing tonight and currently has no shoes to wear.”
“Ooooh, what do you do?” River looked me up and down. “Drag queen?” A look of recognition spread over their face. “Oh my God, you’re Bitch Fit, right? My friends and I love you! We all follow you on Instagram. Your Halloween show was amazing!” They flushed. “Shit, I’m sorry. You’re here for shoes, not for me to fawn over you like an idiot. Where would you like to start?”
“Thank you,” I said, giving them my biggest smile. I didn’t meet a ton of fans outside of drag, and whenever I did, I was slightly bowled over by it. “That’s very sweet of you. Can I start with the knee-high ones please? They look like the trickiest, so let’s do those first.” I stared at them. Then another thought popped into my head, and I glanced down at the jeans I was wearing. “Shit. I’m going to be wearing a dress tonight.”
“I’ve got you,” River said.
Ten minutes later, in a borrowed skirt and a cheap pair of tights, I slid the knee-high boots onto my feet. They had a zip in the back which made them easier to put on, which was a plus, but they pulled a little around the calf and were heavier than I’d expected. I pursed my lips and stood, walking up and down a few times and examining myself in the mirror. I did look hot. And the boots were amazing. But they weren’t quite right. Not for tonight.
“Well?” Tristan asked.
“Not these.” I sat down, explaining my thoughts to him. “Next.”
The next pair of shoes were a pretty pair of platform Mary Janes with two bows and a row of little silver studs across the straps. They were cute and definitely a solid choice. After that was a similar pair, only they had a simple T-strap fastening, and the sides had little white stars cut out. I liked them, and the stars were nice, but a niggling voice in my head said they’d stain very quickly, and if I was getting expensive shoes, I wanted ones that would last.
“Okay,” River said, opening the last box they’d brought out. “These are the ones we just got in. I’m not sure if you’ll like them, but I thought they might fit the vibe you were going for.”
River handed me the box, and I gasped. It was a pair of wedge ankle boots with laces up the front and spiked, silver studs decorating the back of the heel. There were two straps running around the boot, each covered in round studs that connected to a large pentagram that sat across the top of the laces, and there were additional chains draped around the side, connected to a loop at the back that were hung with a collection of gothic charms. They were definitely extra as fuck, and I loved them.
“Oh my God,” I muttered, lifting them out of the box. “These are amazing!” They had a zip on the inside, which I undid before putting them on the ground and sliding my foot inside. I did them up, took a deep breath, and stood.
“Wow,” Tristan said. “They’re perfect.”
I grinned, walking a few steps to the mirror and examining my reflection. I looked hot as fuck.
The boots were comfy and sturdy, and I didn’t suddenly feel like I was going to lurch off to the side or fall over. They were tall but not enormous. I actually felt like I could bounce around in these very comfortably for the whole evening, unlike my normal heels which I usually wanted to remove in ten minutes.
“These,” I said, walking over to Tristan. They still made me a little taller than him, which made something hot flare inside me.
“Agreed.” He kissed me gently. “Those.”