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You are avoiding your boyfriend.
You wouldn’t have had a reason to if you hadn’t been so obviously lying in the first place. But now as you dart through the crowd in the plaza making your way to the address of the shop you’ve have only seen online up until now, you're incredibly annoyed that you might have ruined your surprise. Still, you insist on trying.
When you walk through the door, your jaw drops.
Models of every type of aircraft you can imagine hang from the ceiling of this shop, suspended in singular moments of flight. Planes, jets, helicopters—everything.
A man your age walks out of the back room, giving you a friendly smile, “PlushieKillerrr22?”
“That’s me!”
“You brought the jacket,” he acknowledges, “Your boyfriend really is DAA. I’m glad. So many people have tried to cheat me out of this model because, as you already know, they only manufactured a hundred of them way back then. But my grandpa was always insistent about who I was allowed to sell it to.”
“Your vetting process was no joke,” you agree, following him to the counter. He disappears into the back again, returning with the box that makes your eyes widen with excitement.
“Your boyfriend is lucky, having someone like you willing to put in the time and money for a gift like this,” he says, and you blush deeply. Finishing your transaction, you leave the shop carrying the gift in an inconspicuous black bag.
That’s when you see him.
He’s in the plaza you’d cut through, a whole head taller than the crowd. Quickly yanking your hoodie over your head, you otherwise remain casual to avoid his suspicion.
Parting the crowd, you head toward the boba shop you saw on the opposite side of the plaza, having noticed a back entrance you’re certain you can slip out of without being spotted.
“Lurking, are we?”
The voice is familiar and colder than expected, freezing you in place.
“I saw you trying to avoid me. If you drop the hood, set the bag down, and tell me who sent you, maybe I’ll ignore the fact that you’re tailing my girlfriend.”
Your face scrunches in confusion, then realization.
“Caleb, it’s me, dummy.”
Straightening up, you turn and look him straight in the eye as you lower your hood.
It isn’t Colonel Caleb who stands behind you, the coldness in Caleb’s expression faltering when he sees you, his brow furrowing with simultaneous confusion and recognition. He takes a step forward, staring as he takes the zip front of the jacket between his fingertips.
“Where… where’d you get the jacket, Pips?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“It’s yours.”
“Mine?” he inquires, “That’s… I thought I lost mine, after…”
“They issued you two, remember? You sent one to me and told me to hold onto it. I think you wanted me to wear it while I was in college so people would know I had a guy friend in the DAA,” you snort, nudging him teasingly, the tenseness leaving his shoulders and a genuine smile appearing on his lips, “I’ve had it buried in the back of my closet for some time because of… bad memories. But things are different now.”
“I can’t believe you still have this,” he cocks his head, his smile putting you on edge as he teases, “Or that it took this long for you to finally get the memo and wear it!”
“I knew it! I knew that was your plan all along!” you laugh, thumping him on the chest with your fist.
Still grinning, he gestures to the bag in your hand, “And what do you got in there, hmm?”
“That’s another surprise for later. Don’t be so nosy,” you glare, hugging the gift to your chest.
He chuckles, “Alright, alright. I’ll let it slide. For now.”