sweet tooth - karl jacobs

chapter 48- stylist

have you ever been in a situation where you're really not looking forward to something, so you find yourself checking the clock over and over again, hoping that it'll make time slow down? then realizing that every time you stare at the clock it seems like an extra five minutes have gone by, and you're wondering if time is even a real concept because if it is, then how is it moving so quickly? and at the dreaded time you hear the loud cacophony of aggressive knocking against your door, and you're considering either pretending you're not home or jumping out the window to avoid whoever is on the other side of the door?

because that's where i'm at right now.

"i will break this door down if you don't open it up in five seconds!" garrett calls out, not pausing the relentless banging on the door. "five! four! three!"

"okay! i'm coming!" i reply exasperatedly, opening the door with my head hanging low. i don't want to wait until the end of the countdown in fear that garrett actually would punch a hole through my door and turn the doorknob himself.

"about time. now let's go." he grabs my forearm and drags me out of my apartment, walking so quickly that my dragging feet are barely keeping up with him.

once we make it to his car, he plays a mixture of beyonce, nicki minaj, rihanna, ariana grande, and other feel-good female artists, but i can barely enjoy it because i keep glancing at his gps, counting down the minutes until we get to the mall.

i've always detested clothes shopping, unless it's online. i don't particularly enjoying sifting through racks looking for a single shirt that's the right size, the right color, the right style, etc. when you can just search up exactly what you want online and have it right in front of you. but unfortunately for me, my best friend is the exact opposite, and greatly enjoys the thrill of aimlessly searching for a specific article of clothing, refusing to ask the employees for help because "that ruins the fun."

"we're here!" garrett sing-songs joyfully as he pulls into a parking space rather sloppily. he throws the car in park and jingles his keys around as he practically hops out of his seat. i groan silently as i get out of the car.

"can we try to make this quick?" i ask.

"we're gonna take as long as we need to, honey. you should be thanking me. without my help, you would've looked like a drowned rat on all of your little dates with your boy toy."

"i'm honored that you think so highly of my fashion sense."

"it's not that i don't think highly of it. it's that i just know my style is better than yours. which isn't a jab at you, since my style is better than everyone's."

i can't argue with him there. while i'm walking around in a loose fitting white t-shirt and blue shorts, garrett is sporting name-brand sunglasses (don't ask me how he can afford that with minimum wage paychecks), an open button down collared shirt with a white tank top underneath, and black shorts that he somehow makes look good. i wouldn't be surprised if he became a stylist for some big name pop star in the future.

we make our way to the first store, which specializes in feminine apparel, mostly dresses and top/skirt sets. it looks a bit too fancy for a house party, but who am i to argue with my personal stylist? arguing wastes energy, and energy is something i'm dangerously low on right now.

garrett scans the multiple racks, grabbing things that are my size and carrying them over his arm while i hover around him. he occasionally makes remarks barely audible for me to hear, saying things like "this would make your eyes pop," or "this dress would look good with a sweater over it," or "this would fit your body type perfectly."

he's a stylist and hype man, i guess.

once he's done browsing around, he pushes me into a dressing room with all my new outfits, telling me i'm required to come out of the room and model all of the outfits for him.