Hatred

Truthfully, any half-baked pseudo-nonconformist could come up with a reason or four to hate the average shopping mall. The crowds, the parking, the really bad music the shops played, there was nothing not to be hated about the mall.

However, Noah took hatred and turned it into art. His hatred was dark, infinite, and all consuming. He could hate the part of a salesman’s hair, the pattern of the tile floors, and the fact that the mall owners put Hot Dog on a Stick right next to Coldstone in the food court. Noah’s ire burned so fiercely that it could absorb light, oxygen, and small independent countries.

But by far, nothing boiled Noah’s blood like the department stores. The prima donna middle schoolers, the bargain-bin jewelry, and the perfumes that all smelled the same, there was even more to hate in the department stores than in the mall in its entirety. Which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. That’s how much Noah hated department stores.

Which had him wondering as to why he was presently sitting in a chair, in front of a dressing room, in a department store (the name of which shall be omitted, for fear of copyright infringement), with the prima donna middle schoolers, the bargain bin jewelry, and the perfume that all smelled the same.

“Hey Noah,” said Natalie, stepping out of the dressing room, “How does this one look on me?” Oh yeah.

Somehow, Natalie had managed to corral Noah into helping her shop for a homecoming dress. While the boy suspected that this was nothing more than another one of his girlfriend’s ploys to force him to buy her clothes, or another ploy to force him to buy himself clothes, Noah had capitulated and accompanied her. It’s not like he had a better way to spend his time, except make horrible, run-on sentences.

“Well?” Natalie said, golden curls bouncing as she turned so he could see from every angle, “What do you think?” She was wearing what appeared to be three strips of cloth, sewn together in an attempt to resemble something decent. And it was red. Very, very red.

From behind tousled black hair hanging over dark eyes that barely deigned to look up from his PSP, Noah replied, “Perfect, now all you need is a pole to dance on!” Natalie squealed in her shock and indignation.

“How can you say that, Noah?” Natalie cried, “Why are you always so mean?”

“Forgive me, Nat,” he answered wistfully, clutching his hand to his chest in mock sincerity, “I experienced a painful childhood, one which has left me scarred, able to display affection only through barbed wit and bitter sarcasm.” Natalie rolled her eyes at his “humor”. She narrowed her blue eyes, crossed her arms, and jutted her hips as she always did when reprimanding Noah.

“Oh come on, painful childhood? I was there for it, remember?”

“Case and point.”

Natalie mollified her anger by throwing a clothes hanger at her ever-so-clever boyfriend.

“Could you at least try to be a half-decent human being for once and help me? The faster we finish, the faster we can leave,” she said.

“Leave? So soon? But I do so enjoy your company.”

Natalie began to gargle and choke on her own fury-induced bile as Noah laughed.

She took several deep breaths before saying, “Honestly Noah, I have no idea why I put up with you.”

Still smiling, he replied, “Because you understand that, underneath my layers of malice and spite, I’m really just a nice guy wanting for love.”

“Oh, now your jokes are starting to get funny.”

“Not as funny as your sense of fashion.”

The girl harrumphed. “Well then,” she said, “Why don’t you pick one?” Noah picked himself up out of the chair and slipped the PSP into his jacket pocket. He walked to a nearby rack, feigning indifference, but actually scanning over the various dresses with the perception of a metrosexual hawk. Noah believed that a dark blue would be a much better color than the crimson travesty that the seemingly color blind young woman was wearing presently; it would complement her blonde hair and match her summer blue eyes. Noah might not have understood fashion, but he knew color theory.

After finally taking one off the rack, he handed it to Natalie with a carefully careless “Mm.” As she disappeared into the dressing room, Noah returned to his game. After an indiscriminate amount of time, he heard Natalie call, “Alright, I’m coming out!”

As she stepped out of from behind the door, Noah had to bite back a gasp. The dress was strapless, but not cut too low, granting her an aura of dignified beauty. It framed her delicate curves as if it had been poured onto her, and the warm azure of the fabric made her skin all but glow. All in all, it was perfect.

“Well? What do you think?”

Noah covered his reddening face with his PSP and muttered, “It’s fine, take that one.” Natalie squealed with delight (although only those who knew her well would be able to tell her squeals of delight from her squeals of shock and indignation), and withdrew into the dressing room to change back, while her over-excited boyfriend used the time to take a much-needed breath.

Now back in her sweater and jeans (and one of those woolen caps with the pompom on the top and earflaps with tassels that always looks adorable on girls but makes guys look like horrible douchebags), Natalie seemed ready to go.

“Thanks for coming with me today, Noah,” she said with a full-bodied smile, “You helped me pick out a good one.” Noah grunted in acknowledgment, more than accustomed to his girlfriend’s mood swings, and began to rise from his seat. Suddenly, before he could even tell what was happening, Natalie was on his lap, straddling his leg.

“However,” Natalie whispered, wrapping her arms around Noah’s neck and pressing against him so she could purr into his ear, “something is bothering me.”

Noah found himself speechless, the scent of cherry and vanilla in the ludicrously attractive young woman’s perfume causing several of his essential functions to short-circuit.

For the briefest moment, Noah felt Natalie’s lips brush against his ear as she whispered, “How is it that you knew my dress size?” One could all but hear the gears in Noah’s brain grind to a halt and subsequently explode.

And just as suddenly as it began, Natalie was back on her feet, laughing softly, while Noah was still in the chair, breathing heavily.

“Come on, Noah, lighten up!” she said, still laughing, “I was only joking.” Natalie then bounced away to the cash register, dress in hand. Noah rose from the seat, sighing and scratching his head. That woman is nothing short of terrifying, he thought to himself. He then slipped his hands into his pockets, only to find that his wallet was missing.

“What the—” Noah quickly looked about the area for his wayward cash clip.

“Do you take Visa?” Noah turned his gaze to the register, finding Natalie paying for the dress with his credit card, taken from his wallet.

“HEY!” he shouted, storming towards Natalie. Not very articulate, but it conveyed his feelings well enough.

“Ah, Noah, you’re just in time to sign for the purchase,” Natalie said, all smiles.

Noah, at first, could do nothing more than look stupefied. Then, sighing in resignation, he signed his name into the electronic tablet. Falling in love with this woman, what had he gotten himself into?