We Go Way Back

chapter nine

WHEN I DECIDED to come to University of Washington, I thought that I'd spend a lot of time in downtown Seattle, getting to know the city. Almost three years later and all I know about Seattle is the inside of every high-end restaurant and how pretty it looks at night from the window in Corbin's living room. Hence my completely amazed expression as we meander through the streets.

"You look like a jungle kid," Corbin comments, a few steps behind me. I glance over my shoulder at him, throwing a quizzical look. "Those kids that are abandoned in the jungle and raised by the animals, no? When they find civilization, everything overwhelms them."

I wait for him to catch up to me with my hands on my hips. "Are you calling me Tarzan?"

"You're more of a..." For a moment, I think he's about to say Jane, but then he concludes his thought, "Mowgli. All scrawny-looking."

I scoff. When he takes the lead, I struggle to walk by his side. Damn his long legs. "I'm five-feet-seven. Do you know what's the average height of the American woman?" Corbin shakes his head. "Neither do I, but I bet I'm taller than that."

"Just because you're tall — and you're not even that tall — doesn't mean that you're not scrawny." I almost bump into him when he turns abruptly towards a store. "Especially if you don't eat like a normal person."

I lower my voice as we enter the shop. "I forget sometimes."

"Who forgets to eat, Delilah?" I am about to answer and explain how, if I'm focused on a task, I forget about basic necessities, when he turns his attention to the employee behind the desk. "Good afternoon," he bids politely. In the wild, no one can tell that he's Satan's spawn.

The woman looks up from an agenda and her eyes widen at the sight of Corbin. I think I've grown desensitized to his attractiveness, but I put myself in her shoes. A tall — he hit the mark of six feet by his fifteenth birthday and I don't think he's stopped growing since —, impeccably dressed man with blonde hair and golden eyes just waltzed into her store. It doesn't help that he's also extremely charming. I'd be swooning too. Men like Corbin don't appear too often.

"Hi," she says, aloof. Her lips stay parted and her eyes wide until she shakes her head slightly. "Hi, how can I help you?"

"We're looking for a dress, formal and elegant," he says.

I pop over his shoulder, standing on my toes. "And a coat, heels, maybe some jewelry."

Corbin subtly pushes me back, shoving his index on my forehead. "Just the dress, really."

She nods, still evidently star-struck, and raises a hand, signaling us to wait while she goes to the back of the shop. I look around. There are hundreds of dresses hanging from rods drilled into the walls. They range from pearly white to the deepest black, with every possible and imaginable color in between. While we wait, I near one section and run my fingers through a few silk dresses, seeing the fabric turn from pale pink to magenta.

"I brought some general options, our best-sellers." I turn at the sound of the retailer's voice. "We can go from there."

I follow her into the fitting room and Corbin trudges behind me. He finds an armchair in front of the cubicle, so he plops down and urges me to take the dresses inside.

I take off my sweatpants and my Huskies sweatshirt. I should've brought a more appropriate underwear set, but I've rarely done any laundry with my hectic schedule, so all I had was a red bra with white bows and black polka-dotted panties. I slip the first dress from the hanger and examine it. It's a long, yellow dress with ruffles at the bottom. It's pretty. Not something I would usually wear, and it doesn't fit me perfectly, but it's pretty.