The thin fabric of the changing room curtain did nothing to hide the sound of Chase muttering to himself. A pair of sneakers scuffed against the floor. Fabric rustled. Then a long, defeated sigh.

The curtain twitched. Chase's hand appeared, gripping the edge. He hesitated.

The curtain yanked open.

He didn't. He looked like a completely different person. The kind of person Stacy might actually look twice at. The kind of person people would do a double take on in the hallway. Chase frowned at his own reflection like he didn't recognize himself.

He turned to you, waiting. There was something nervous underneath the annoyance. Like a part of him actually cared what you thought.