Forty-Seven Uses for a Paperclip (Completed)

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Leaving's worse than Staying

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Leaving's worse than Staying

“How about this one?” Colton holds the scarf up next to his face. “I’ve heard pastels are good for my skin tone, but brown washes me out.”

“Have you been watching What Not to Wear, again?” I ask. He once secretly admitted to me that it’s his guilty pleasure.

“Danielle had it on! And the woman’s fashion sense was so awful!” Colton defends, covering his hair with the scarf and tying it under his chin.

I smirk. “You look like a housewife.”

“But what does that make you?” Colton stares at me, a thoughtful fist under his chin, where the knot for the scarf is tied.

“The man.” I deadpan.

“Oh, really?” A wicked glint appears in his green eyes. Colton reaches for a tie but, instead of putting it around my neck, flings it around my waist. He pulls both ends of the tie, making me walk closer to him.

“Colton.” I place a warning hand on his chest.

“Yes, darling?” He breathes, bending his face down to mine.

“We’re in a store.”

“Correction: we’re in a secluded corner of the store.” Colton modifies my words.

I roll my eyes.

We ended up going to the mall to find a card for Adrienna. It was actually a short errand, since funny cards aren’t exactly hard to come by. Colton decided it would be fun to keep shopping though, so here we are in one of the trendy little stores. In a corner. By ourselves. With my boyfriend wearing a scarf like some sort of womanly headpiece.

“Come on,” Colton prods. He leans down so his lips barely brush against mine. “Live a little.”

I open my mouth to say that I am, in fact, breathing and therefore living, but Colton closes the space between us and kisses me before I can. And I, using the self-control that God gave me, respond enthusiastically.

That is, until my common sense catches up with me and I realize children could be watching us. I quickly retract my face from his.

Colton groans softly at the loss of contact. My hands are tangled in his hair (under the scarf) and his are around my waist. The tie seems to have disappeared.

“We need to get going. It’s getting late.” I tell him, unwinding my fingers from his brown hair.

“Fine. Fine.” He says good-naturally. He removes his arms from my waist in favor of grabbing my hand, pulling me to the store exit.

I quickly grab the scarf from his head and throw it back to where we found it; it might push Colton over the edge if we’re accused of shoplifting.