Chapter Fifty-Nine

Claire picked up a new Star Wars t-shirt, holding it up for John to see. "Look at this one!" She giggled, holding it onto his chest.

He shook his head, taking the shirt from her. "I've never seen it."

She shook her head, putting the shirt back and picking up a ZZ Top one. "Okay, how about this one?"

He looked at it, noticing one a few wracks away with a motorcycle on it. "I like this one." He stated, looking at the price tag. "Holy shit…" He looked up at Claire, his eyes wide at the price. "Fifteen bucks for a shirt?"

Claire smiled, taking the shirt from him and putting it in the cart. "Now you need some jeans." She motioned for him to turn around, slipping her fingers into the back of his pants to check the current size he was wearing. "Holy cow! These are tight on your hips." She rested her head on his back as she looked at the numbers on the inside of his jeans. "No wonder, they're the same size as a thirteen-year-old wears."

He ducked his head, running his hands over a black leather jacket. "I haven't gotten new jeans in a while, and I just gained enough weight that these are too small."

Claire noticed him looking at the jacket, smiling as she picked it off the wrack and placed it on his shoulders. "Try it on." She smiled as he slipped his arms into it, watching how his whole demeanor seemed to change. "Damn." She looked over him, taking in how the jacket fit around his broad shoulders and his slim hips. "That looks hot."

John blushed, lifting his dark eyes to hers. "You like it, huh?" He smirked, stepping closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into a strong kiss. He leaned farther into the kiss as he heard a moan deep in her throat, pulling her body against his as he felt her poke at his lips with her tongue. He parted his lips, letting her inside. He groaned as her tongue forced itself deeper into his throat, letting her nearly choke him. He ran his tongue over the underside of hers, tasting the chocolate from the candy bar she'd eaten earlier. He felt her hands wrap around his sides, her nails scratching at his body. He moaned into her mouth, letting her push deeper.

Thomas poked his head around the wrack of clothes that he was looking at with Dominic and Cody, his jaw dropping at the scene of his daughter pushing John up against the dressing room doors. "Clarity Penelope Faith Standish!" He shouted, watching as they jumped away from each other. "I'm not going to warn you two again. If I catch you one more time, I will ground you both from singing until you go to college."

John looked at Claire, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Can I have my gum back?"

She shook her head, smirking as she tossed the leather jacket into the cart and walking over to the jeans. "Alright, let's see…" She scanned over the denim sizes, picking out a couple of them and holding them to John's hips and stretching them over his butt. "See if these fit." She smiled, watching him walk into the dressing room.

Clarissa chuckled, walking up to her daughter. "Did you see if they'll fit?"

Claire nodded, her brows shooting up as she saw John exit the dressing room. The jeans fit his legs perfectly, just tight enough that you could tell they weren't little bird legs, and his hips were wonderfully shaped into the denim, making his butt look incredible. "Holy shit…" She breathed, looking at the dark jeans on his body. "John…"

John gave a little smile, shoving his hands in the back pockets as he looked up at them. "Do I still look too skinny?"

Clarissa shook her head, walking over and adjusting the waistband so that they couldn't see his boxer band. "You look wonderful." She smiled, kissing his cheek as she walked around him to make sure they fit right. "I didn't know you were filling out this well."

He jumped as she knelt down and started tugging his pantlegs down over his shoes. "I'm still too thin."

Claire smiled, fixing his necklace so that the clasp was in the back. "You're getting there." She whispered, resting her head on his chest and listening to his heart, happy that he didn't know about the scare he'd given them while he was in surgery. "You'll get it back." She breathed his scent, catching a hint of her own perfume on his clothes. "I know you will."

Amelia tugged on his flannel, looking up at him with her big eyes. "Did I hurt you when you tried to pick me up?" She asked, ducking her head as he knelt down to her level.

He shook his head, taking her hand and pressing it to the soft spot where his bandage was. "No. I just can't lift you yet, because of my cut." He kissed her head, smiling as she seemed to start to understand. "See, that cut goes really deep and my muscles have to heal before I can lift a lot."

She nodded, looking up at him with a small smile. "Otherwise you have to say fuck to make it stop hurting."

"Amelia!" John exclaimed, trying to hide his laughter. "Stop repeating what I say!"

She tilted her head, trying to get her puppy-dog look to work on him. "But why can't I say it?"

John shook his head, slowly standing and picking up a little pink leather jacket to put on Amelia. "Because it's a really bad word." He smiled as she slipped her arms into the jacket, picking up a little skull patched that he could sew onto it. "When you get your own motorcycle, you can say that but as long as you have to ride on mine you can't say them."

Mary looked up from the bra wrack she was looking at with Kaylie, shaking her head. "She is not riding on that deathtrap with you."

John rolled his eyes, knocking on Amelia's head. "Not without a helmet." He chuckled, poking her nose as she wrinkled it. "And some real boots."

Clarissa looked down at John's old beaten up boots, noticing the cracks in the soles and how there were chunks taken out of the heels. "That reminds me, we need to find you some new shoes." She pointed to the dressing room, making it clear that he needed to slip back into his old jeans. "Meet us over in the shoe department when you're done."

John nodded, locking the door behind him as he went to change. "Of course, Mom."

"And don't be getting smart with me." She smiled, noticing that Claire was placing a few more shirts and jeans in the cart. "I swear, your boyfriend is going to be the death of us all."

Claire snorted a laugh, looking up at her mother. "I think he's great."

Clarissa nodded, hugging her daughter close to her side. "I'm sure you do." She smiled, thinking about that Harley in the garage. "I just hope he sells that motorcycle of his."

Claire rolled her eyes, looking at her mother. "Mom, it's John. He bought it because he's craving the risk of riding it." She walked with her to the shoes. "I think he feels cooped up and like his freedom is being stolen from him." She picked up a pair of Converse, remembering the pair John used to have in his locker before he accidentally cut the toe off with the guillotine. "I think he just wants to feel like the dangerous kid he was… you know… before he was drugged."

Clarissa nodded, trying to force herself to come to terms with the idea of the motorcycle. "I just worry about him on that thing."

Claire nodded, knowing how her mom felt. "Me too."