You're Worth It (shifters and partners, #24) by Hollis Shiloh

Author:Hollis Shiloh [Shiloh, Hollis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: wolf shifters, gay werewolf, friends to lovers, coming out later in life, gay shifter series, paranormal gay romance, gay romance mm, gay romance, christian and gay
Publisher: Spare Words Press
Published: 2019-07-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter eight

"You didn't have to do that."

I was rinsing a cup when Will spoke behind me, sounding even more fond than usual. I realized my hands were a bit unsteady. I took a deep breath, braced myself, and turned around.

He was gazing at me in the gentlest way. And he wore sparkly tight shorts that had to be made of spandex or something like it, and a kind of mesh shirt, with a small, open red vest over top, and fingerless gloves of fishnet material. He grinned as he saw me looking, and did a little pose.

"How do I look? Classy as hell?" He cracked up at his own joke. "Believe me, these are context-specific clothes. It wouldn't look right in the grocery store, but I'd stand out if I didn't wear these at the club I'm heading to."

If this was the normal way to dress, I'd hate to think what Chet was—or wasn't—wearing.

"It's hard to imagine you not standing out anywhere dressed like that," I said as mildly as I could.

"Aw, thank you!" His eyes gleamed at me, and I could tell he was teasing, getting a kick out of my awkwardness, but also pleased and proud of how hard I was trying to get used to this side of him.

I turned back to finish the last couple of dishes. "Well, what kind of makeup are you going to wear?"

"Something sparkly," said Will. "And purple. I'm feeling pretty."

That answer surprised me. I guess I never really thought of Will as pretty, or wanting to look pretty. To me, he seemed shy, extremely quiet, and handsome but in a very low key way. Not pretty.

But then, pretty was a word with negative connotations for me. Maybe it wasn't for him.

Maybe he liked feeling more feminine than masculine sometimes. Perhaps rigid gender roles weren't so strictly ingrained in him, or he'd fought free because they didn't fit him.

I'd been learning a lot in the last few years—mostly on my own, searching around and reading and trying to understand—but that didn't mean I felt capable of expressing any of that out loud. Not that it would be appropriate anyway. Quizzing him about gender and how he related to it would just be rude.

He went to the bathroom and started going through a drawer, whistling a little. "You can watch if you want," he called.

I dried my hands and went to lean in the doorway to the bathroom, watching him work. So careful. So many aspects to it. I'd never really watched anyone put on makeup before.

I grew up in a strict household where my sisters weren't allowed to wear it until they were eighteen, and the generally assumed consensus was that they wouldn't wear it then, either, unless they wanted to be That Sort of Girl, which would certainly be unchristian of them, as well as shameful to the family.

Dresses in church, long hair, very plain styles, and sensible shoes. I assume there were rituals related to femininity, and special undergarments, but I wasn't privy to that, as a boy.

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