“Is that a good thing?” I asked.
“It’s a great thing,” Stella said as she whipped the door open. “How are we doing on colors?”
“No to everything except this black coat,” I said.
“Well, the black does look good on you, but only if it’s that midnight black. Faded black wouldn’t go well with the redness of your skin tones,” she said.
“Again, no idea what that means,” I said.
“Alright. So, shining midnight black. Now, we need to figure out the style of suit you want,” she said.
“We’re going to be here awhile, aren’t we?” I asked.
“Yes. You’re stuck with me a little while longer,” she said.
“Eh, I could be stuck with someone worse,” I said, shrugging.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, smiling. “And, by the way? That black really does look good on you.”
“Thanks.”
I had never seen Stella this jovial or this helpful in my entire life, and it really suited her. The way her whole face lit up with excitement warmed my chest. This was the type of happiness Stella deserved after losing her father so suddenly. She was enjoying this, and it was wonderful to see her in her element.
I was learning more and more about her, and she seemed a bit more beautiful.
Radiant.
Delightful to be around.
“How do you feel about matching black pants?” the stylist said.
“Isn’t that sort of what’s supposed to happen with a suit?” I asked.
“You seriously have no idea what you’re doing,” he said, chuckling.
Once we found a couple pairs of nice pants I could wear with this one jacket, we began fitting clothes to suit me. Stella was talking with the stylist about every color shirt and tie she brought in, but all I could do was focus on the light greens she was bringing in. If the contrast of jet black and light green looked good on her, why wouldn’t it look good on me?
Why did I even care?
I put on a pair of slim black pants with the black suit coat and a dark green shirt. The tie was a pale green to tone down whatever color my skin was at any given moment, and I walked out to stand in front of a full-length mirror. It fit well, not baggy like the gray one I had at home. I could see what the stylist meant about the colors ringing nicely with my hair, but what I couldn’t get over was Stella.
Her eyes were hooked on me, and for a split second, I felt a surge of pride ricochet through my stomach. I’d never had any woman look at me the way she was right now. For a moment, everything but Stella faded into the background. I studied her eyes — the way they matched my tie as they looked up and down my form. I studied her mouth — the way her lips slightly parted in shock as she saw the way the suit fell against my body. I studied her hips — the way they cocked to the side as she checked out my shoulders, hips, and legs.
I had to remind myself she was my stepsister.
“You look spectacular, Christian,” she said.
“Ya think so?” I asked.
“You really do.”
Her
eyes locked with mine in the reflection of the mirror, and a soft smile dawned on her face. Like the sun rising above the horizon, I was witnessing a side to Stella I’d never had the privilege of seeing. She was stunned and pleasantly surprised. She was happy and radiantly thrilled.
I couldn’t help but take in the way she was looking at me, until her phone rang in her pocket.
“Hold on,” she said.