4. Chapter 4
Fylis
I cook a small meal, planning to grab tea in the shopping mall. Retrieving my jacket from the hook, I reach for the door as a knock startles me. I freeze, pulling my hand back. It better not be a student looking for extra credit. Grumbling, I open the door.
“Burgess? What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting later at Whip’s End?” The massive troll pushes his way into my home.
“Figured you needed help shopping.” He glances over my outfit with a look of disapproval.
“What? It’s simple. For trying on clothes!” Pleading my case without success.
“Let’s go, goat boy. Time to channel those lusty instincts of yours. I’m driving.”
We arrive at the mall, Burgess practically dragging me to the side of the mall, where the college kids hang around. “I don’t want my students to see me, Burgess, please. This is mortifying enough.” He chuckles but doesn’t give in.
“Your students are avoiding you like the plague, good friend. They don’t want to think about your boring tests on their weekends, trust me.” I sputter with rage as he drags me along. Dick.
We stop at a shop called Tempting Threads. Very clever. I roll my eyes as we cross the threshold. A beautiful basilisk slithers up to us.
“Welcome to Tempting Threads, looking for anything specific- Oh! Hello Burgess!” Of course, she knows Burgess. Does he get around that much?
“Just looking for a date night outfit for my friend Fylis here. How are you, Samantha?” She blushes up at him, not sparing a glance my way.
“Satyr sizes on the second floor. Would you like some help?” Burgess grins fondly at her. Have these two…?
“Can you pull some of my favorite looks for him in his size?” Gods, she’s practically foaming at the mouth. I step away from whatever the hell is going on there.
Glancing around the floor, I notice the colors and textures.
It feels luxe. I should be dressing in fabrics other than cotton and linen.
“Ready to head up?” Burgess pulls me from my observations.
I nod and follow him up to the second floor.
Upon arrival, there’s a greater variety of colors.
Deep forest colors that make me feel calm and in control. I like a neutral palette.
We stop at a dressing room with plush couches, and Samantha is filling a room with hangers.
“Let’s start with my favorites, and if you hate them, then we can look around.
I think you’ll like what I’ve picked for you, though.
” It’s my turn to laugh now. I’ve only ever seen Burgess in his athletic wear. Though he does look good in them.
I step into the dressing room, closing the door behind me.
Stripping down, I deposit my clothes onto a small bench in the room.
Silky fabrics cover most of the rack. My horns will absolutely snag these, and I’ll never get the fur out of them.
An emerald blazer catches my eye. It’s a smooth velvet material with some stretch to it.
I set it on the hook closest to me for later.
Now for a shirt. I skip over every black item until a silky white button-down comes to view.
This one. I put it on, buttoning it all the way up.
It falls nicely at my waist. Looking in the mirror, I’m impressed.
I don’t look half bad. More dressy but still me.
Topping it off with the blazer my confidence soars. This- I look good.
“Are you doing alright in there?” Samantha’s voice sounds muffled through the door. Turning the knob, I let it open slowly, my nerves kicking in. I step out onto the pedestal so that they can both see. Burgess beams at me, and Samantha gasps dramatically.
“Is it bad? Should I have chosen black?”
“No, you actually- look really nice.” Burgess stands and approaches me, undoing the top four buttons so my chest peaks out. “There we go. Less stuffy.” Ok, sweet moment gone.
Turning towards the mirrors, I look myself over again.
I actually do really like this look. It’s less of a forest grandpa as Burgess referred to my wardrobe at one point.
Smiling at my reflection, my confidence rises once again.
“I’ll take this outfit. And in a few other colors you think would suit me. ”
Samantha lets out a squeal and nods. “I’ll go pull those right now, sir.” Burgess stands behind me.
“Ready for tonight?” Am I ready?
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. At least I’ll look the part.” He chuckles almost like he knows something I don’t. “How many times did you say you’ve gone to Whip’s End again?”
With his hands tucked in his pants, he steps off the pedestal, walking towards the counter. “I didn’t.”