"This is interesting—did you know the best way to determine how in tune you are with your partner is by the presents they give you?"

"Huh?" I glanced up from the magazine I was flipping through, shooting Lissa a confused look.

"What they buy you indicates whether they care more about you or themselves." Lissa held up the magazine she was reading. "Like Chris giving me that stupid toaster—it was something he gets more enjoyment out of than me."

"Liss… please tell me you're not seriously getting relationship advice from 'Cosmo'. I rolled my eyes. "He got you the toaster because you like toast and I… uh… I mean… someone broke the old one."

"It makes sense," she insisted. "I dropped hints for at least a week about wanting that dress at Margo's—"

"Maybe he wanted to surprise you—get you something you didn't expect," I pointed out—relieved that she missed my slip about the accidental destruction of their kitchen appliance. It honestly could have happened to anyone—how the hell was I supposed to know you couldn't heat a damn frozen burrito in a toaster?

"Or he just didn't care about what I wanted." She frowned. "I think we should test him. Dimitri too."

"Ohhhhhhhh no. No way. You're not dragging us into this shit." I dropped the magazine, on the verge of bolting.

"Please Rose?" She grabbed my arm—effectively halting my quick getaway. "If you'll do it I can tell Christian it's a bet we made—to see who's boyfriend gets the perfect gift. There's no way he'll refuse if it means he has a chance of making you lose."

"Absolutely not Lissa—the whole idea is stupid." She widened her eyes, giving me a pleading look—the one that makes her look like a sad, orphaned puppy.

Shit.

"You suck—you know that, right?" I scowled at her, slumping back against the cushions.

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

"Yeah—so what do we do? Just tell 'em to go buy us a surprise and see who comes back with the best gift?"

"That's too easy. We have to be more specific." Her face scrunched up as she thought about it for a minute, then she got the most devious looking grin I've ever seen her wear. "I know—night clothes."

This idea was getting worse by the minute. "What do you mean… 'night clothes'?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. We'll see if they buy something comfortable that we'd enjoy wearing—like cozy flannel pajamas—or if they turn up with some stupid lace see thru nighties that they'd enjoy seeing us in."

"Hey! I happen to like lacy nighties!" I said, my voice indignant.

"Oh Rose—no you don't! They're uncomfortable and itchy."

"Not on me they aren't—they don't stay on long enough to bug me." I smiled smugly as she blushed.

"Rose! Honestly!"

"Well they don't! And I don't like pajamas—they make me feel confined. It's like wearing a damned uniform to bed."

She ignored my protests, scooping up her phone from the coffee table to call Christian. I examined my nails intently, trying to tune her out since I didn't really want to hear the lovey dovey way she greeted him—I preferred to keep my lunch in my stomach as opposed to all over the floor. It took me a couple of minutes to realize she'd fallen silent; glancing over at her, I almost laughed at the put out expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

She held up her hand to silence me; I scowled—I hate waiting.

"Fine—then it's girls against boys. I hope you realize you're going to lose." Her eyes narrowed as she ended the call, tossing the phone down beside her.

I didn't like the sound of that one damn bit.

"He said they only way they'll do it is if we do it too," she huffed indignantly.

I groaned. "That means—"

"We're going shopping. Come on."

THREE HOURS LATER, we were still shopping. Lissa drug me kicking and screaming—okay, not quite… more like groaning and complaining—through six stores before she found something she liked. Personally, I didn't want to even think about what Christian wore to bed, but she kept asking my opinion—pointedly ignoring the expression of disgust on my face.

"These are nice, don't you think?"

I pretended to gag.

"Rose! Stop that! Come on, I need your input. I want to win, don't you?"

She knows me too well, which means she knows exactly which buttons to push to get me to cooperate—I have a competitive streak a mile wide. "I don't know Liss. They're kinda… old fashioned." The pajamas in her hands were a pale shade of blue, trimmed with a darker blue—in other words, they looked like something a grandfather would wear.

She frowned. "But they match his eyes—and I can get the pocket monogrammed in navy to match the piping."

"I thought the entire point of this whole stupid idea was to get something he would like—sorry but I can't see Christian getting all worked up about grandpa pjs Lissa. An apron maybe, but not these—he's not Hugh Heffner you know." I eyed them critically, shaking my head. "Why don't you just get what he normally sleeps in?"

She scowled. "Because t-shirts and boxers are boring, Rose."

"To you," I pointed out, jerking the pajamas out of her hands and dropping them back on the display table. "Come on—maybe you can find some of those boxers with smiley faces on 'em or something."

She huffed at me as I steered her away from the silk pajamas, but immediately her sour expression faded when she saw the giant selection of novelty boxers and t-shirts that they had on the racks. After thirty minutes of sorting through the displays, she finally settled on a pair of plain black boxers and a shirt that had 'sarcasm is my middle name' scrawled across the chest. As soon as she picked it up and smiled, I towed her to the register—not wanting to risk her to change her mind again.

"But… what about you? You didn't get anything!"

"You let me worry about that." I watched as the sales girl rang up the purchases. "She needs gift boxes—two of them, thanks."

Lissa glanced over at me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Rose… what are you up to?"

"Trust me—I've got it covered Liss. We're gonna win hands down."