Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109

The first floor shimmered under the bright lights, showcasing an array of fashion and accessories arranged with meticulous precision. Rows of gleaming leather shoes stood in perfect alignment, resembling disciplined soldiers ready for inspection. Silk ties hung gracefully, organized by color palettes that ranged from subtle to bold. Glass cases displayed cufflinks that caught the light, sparkling like tiny jewels. In one corner, a small section was dedicated to what some might call “toys”—luxury watches and elegant fountain pens for men who believed status was measured in such details. I lingered near the perfume counter by the entrance, pretending to examine a few bottles, but my eyes kept darting toward the door every time it opened.

And then he appeared.

He stepped inside, looking around as if he’d landed somewhere utterly unfamiliar. His lips parted slightly in a low whistle, betraying his surprise. Wearing a simple T-shirt and worn jeans, he stood out starkly against the polished marble floors and the impeccably dressed mannequins. I couldn’t help but smile at the contrast. He looked both lost and magnetic—a paradox that was entirely his. Even in this upscale environment, he was unmistakably mine.

“Sir,” he whispered when he finally spotted me, his voice low and cautious. His eyes flicked nervously toward the nearby staff, as if checking they weren’t listening.

I shook my head with a small smile. “Coach,” I corrected gently, though I allowed my gaze to linger on him longer than necessary. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and I savored the moment before turning away.

“Come on.” I gestured toward the staircase and led him upstairs to the second floor, where Spencer’s true elegance revealed itself. There, racks of finely tailored suits stood in neat rows, their colors muted yet rich—charcoal, navy, black, with occasional daring cuts in midnight blue and hunter green. This was where I had purchased my own suit. Ever since the donor’s dinner had been scheduled, I’d known Noah would need one too.

As we reached the second floor, the atmosphere shifted. The air felt heavier with purpose, the world of tailored precision unfolding before us. Noah slowed, his eyes widening as he took in the endless rows of suits.

“Shopping, Coach?” he asked, a whistle escaping despite himself. “Holy shit. You going to a ball with the king or something?”

I gave him a calm look. “You are. With the kings and queens of Texas who invest in you and your team.”

His head snapped toward me, disbelief clear in his wide eyes. “Wait—me?”

He tried on the first suit—a slim-cut navy number. The moment he stepped out of the dressing room, something tightened in my chest. The boy who usually looked scrappy, with his wild curls and rough edges, suddenly appeared transformed. Elevated. Dignified. As if he belonged to a world far removed from the one he’d known.

He tugged awkwardly at the collar, cheeks flushed. “Jesus. I look like some kind of aristocrat.”

I smirked. “You look like someone who’s about to own the room.”

The sales clerk brought out ties, shirts, and shoes. Noah fumbled with the choices, holding a tie up to his neck and making a face before swapping it for another. His awkwardness made me want to laugh, but beneath it all, it was beautiful—the excitement barely hiding under his embarrassment, the way his eyes flicked to me for approval each time.

When he finally emerged in the full ensemble—polished shoes, matching tie, crisp shirt—I let my gaze roam over him slowly, openly, drinking in the sight of him transformed.