SINS (Completed)

CONVERSATION ENDERS

My face falls and I frown at his rudeness.

"Fine. Speak." I chip and his scowl softens a bit, and then it's like he's hit with a whole wave of hesitation and anxiety.

"So I had planned on gifting her this- dress that she had been wanting since long back, she even designed it back in high school, so- I have already ordered it to be made, and so; I want her to wear that to the pageant."

I take a minute to absorb it, and when I do my heart swells, partly at how adorably nervous he gets in the areas of expression.

"Okay, so to wear it, she has to participate, idiot." I reply gently, and he sighs.

"I know, and she is. She's participating, the final list is already submitted, I just- want her to think that she's not, so that she doesn't- arrange for a dress of her own, which I know she has, and she's quite excited about it. I just figured this was the only way to get her to drop it."

When Hardin said I would find it stupid, he meant this. Now maybe it is, but I'm definitely not laughing, considering all the effort its taking him to just say it.

But then it is, kind of a weird logic.

"Zach, even if she arranges for another, you really think she's not gonna choose your gift over it?"

"See that's the point, I want her to wear my gift because she loves it, not because she has to only because I gave it to her. What if she ends up liking hers more? And don't call me an idiot."

He finishes his rushed sentences, adding the last line sternly and I hold back a smile. Idiot.

Now, I get it. This wasn't so difficult, this is the traditional Hardin Scott analogy, and of course I know what he's trying to do.

He wants to be appreciated. He wants his gesture to be successful. He wants his gift to be liked, effortlessly. He wants to be the reason behind Brit's enthusiasm and happiness that night.

I cough, crossing my arms together.

"So, you're in a weird, twisted way- trying to eliminate the competition?"

He stands up immediately, banging one hand on the table.

"Bull's eye. Exactly that." He says, with a gush of relief and satisfaction, of having gotten his point across. This time I smile, and nod.

"Oh-kay."

"I told you it's stupid." He says in a low tone, and I bring my hands down at my sides.

I shake my head internally. It's not stupid, Hardin.

"Uh, not really, I mean it's logical- but- she'll have to attend dance rehearsals, what are you going to do about that?" I ask him and he places his hands on his hips, resulting in a far too clear view of the- view of him.

"That is why I called you in, with that much of an attitude, for. Run your academic brain, give me a solution."

God, he's being borderline adorable. I chuckle.

"The only solution is, that stop being so paranoid."

"That's not a solution." He retorts immediately.

I start walking towards him, with slow, small steps.

'It is. Stop being paranoid, let her participate, let her arrange whatever she wants and no matter much she likes it, I swear she's going to choose your gift over it blindly, because that gesture will matter.