Taken By My Gay Best Friend and His Boyfriend

Scarlet POV

Living with your best friend, who is also gay, has its benefits. Like now, fashion disaster hell. I've gone through everything, and there's not a single thing in this room that feels right.

Tonight is different, and I don't want to be wearing my generic crap, I want something unique and worthy of what tonight is. Swinging the door open, I stay in my lingerie.

"Zain!" I call out, step back, and look at the mess in my room. I need to get this cleaned up before tonight as well. He walks in and laughs.

"Did you throw a bomb in here and watch it explode?" His eyes look at the mess. "Jesus, Scar, what were you looking for? An outfit for every day of the year?" He holds up my exercise leggings. "I'm confused right now. Do I need to get you a maid?"

Groaning, I throw a dress at him. "Help me! I need something to wear for tonight!"

Sighing, he steps in. "You realise only a few people are coming. It's nothing big, so you don't need to look top of the shelf."

I know that. "Yeah, I know, but I'm thinking tonight might be the best night to move things forward with Jacob." I've put this off for years, and now... It feels so much like a burden, like something holding me back.

His eyes widen. "Okay, then you need a full re-work, none of this will do." He throws the leggings at me and tuts. "You need help, serious help if you were going to wear any of these."

"Are you joking? There has to be something here I can wear."

"Darling, you're about to lose something that many keep sacred, something that you kept sacred for years. We're doing this properly. Now put on your big girl pants, and let's go shopping."

I groan louder and let myself flop back onto the bed, my legs kicking uselessly in the air. “Zain, I don’t want to go shopping. Can’t you just—” I grab a random black dress from the chaos and hold it up hopefully. “—make this work? Add a belt? That would work right, it would look amazing.”

He plucks it from my fingers like it’s contaminated. “Sweetheart, unless you’re planning to mourn your virginity, this isn’t the vibe. Where the f*ck did you even get this dress? Don't answer that, I don't want to know.”

I scowl and throw a pillow at him. “Then what am I supposed to wear?”

“Not that,” he says dramatically before tossing the dress behind him. “Now come on, get dressed. Leggings, sneakers, hoodie. Functional, not fabulous. Save the fabulous for tonight.”

I stay slumped on the bed, groaning into the sheets. “You are a menace.”

Zain ignores me, yanking open my drawers and tossing clothes at me one piece at a time. “Come on, move it. I’ll literally drag you through the mall in your panties if I have to.”

Muttering curses under my breath, I peel myself off the bed and start dressing. Hoodie over my head. Leggings pulled up. I hop around trying to shove my feet into sneakers while Zain critiques my entire existence.

“Scar, for the love of Gucci, those leggings are inside out.”

F*ck my life! I yank them off quickly.

“Hurry up before I have to explain to mall security why my best friend is flashing shoppers.”

I give him the middle finger but wriggle into the leggings anyway, hopping on one foot as I jam my foot into the tight fabric. “Maybe you could just distract them with a song and dance,” I say.

“Sweetheart, you know I would,” he replies, tossing me a pair of sneakers next.

“Uber’s three minutes away,” he announces, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Chop, chop, virgin queen.”

“Stop calling me that,” I hiss.

I pull them on quickly, shoving my foot in without untying the laces first. I grab my purse off the chair, stuffing my phone and wallet inside, then yank the apartment door open.

“You’re going to get me arrested.”

“I’m just trying to set the tone for the evening!” he says with a wink. “Tonight, we say goodbye to Princess Purity.”

I punch his arm, but I’m laughing too, nerves buzzing in my chest. I'm glad I have him, he makes all this so much easier, I can't imagine how scared shitless I would be without him here as my support.

“Keys?” Zain prompts, already halfway out into the hall.

I backpedal, grabbing my keys off the side table. “Got them!” I lock the door behind us, twisting the key twice, then yank it out just as Zain is bouncing impatiently by the stairwell.

“You’re slower than my grandma in stilettos,” he teases.

“Yeah, well, maybe your grandma has more energy than me,” I snap back, but there’s no real heat in it.

We tromp down the stairs together, the concrete steps cool against the soles of my sneakers. The stairwell smells like dust and someone’s spilt takeout. When we hit the lobby, I shove the door open, holding it for Zain to saunter through.

Outside, the evening air is brisk and carries the scent of nearby food carts. The wind blows, and it lifts the edge of my hoodie, making me shiver.

Zain immediately shrugs out of his light jacket and throws it over my shoulders. “Can’t have you freezing your t*ts off before you even get laid.”

I snort a laugh, tugging it tighter around me. “You’re so charming.”

“I know,” he says brightly, tapping his phone.

A car turns the corner and slows in front of us, headlights sweeping over the sidewalk. “That’s our Uber,” he announces.

We walk over, Zain popping the back door open like a gentleman. I slide in first, scooting across the seat to give him room. He slams the door shut and buckles up in one smooth motion.

The driver, a guy in his forties wearing a baseball cap, glances at us through the rearview mirror. “Velour Mall, right?”

“Yep!” Zain chirps.

The driver nods and pulls away from the curb, merging into traffic.

The city crawls past the windows in a blur of neon signs and brake lights. I fiddle with the strap of my purse, my stomach tying itself into tighter knots the closer we get.

Zain is oblivious to my internal breakdown as he's scrolling through his phone again.

“Okay,” he says, flashing the screen at me. “We hit Zara first. Then maybe Elle & Co. if we don’t find anything. And if all else fails, we swing by Lust Boutique for the emergency slutwear.”

I cough, nearly choking on my own spit.

“Kidding. Sort of.” He grins, pocketing the phone. “We are not leaving until we find something that makes him forget his d*mn name.”

I stare out the window, watching the rows of shops and diners slide by. “What if he doesn’t even notice?”

Zain gives me a sharp look. “Scarlet. Honey. Men are not that complicated. You look hot? He notices.”

I smile faintly, but the anxiety doesn’t fully loosen its grip.

The Uber glides into the mall’s drop-off lane, easing up next to the curb.

Zain unbuckles and flings his door open. “Let’s go, gorgeous.”

Following him out, I close the door behind me and step onto the sidewalk. The driver gives a little wave before pulling away, tires crunching over gravel.

The mall looms in front of us, its lights bright against the dimming sky. People are coming and going, arms loaded with shopping bags, and the low hum of chatter fills the air.

Zain loops his arm through mine and tugs me toward the entrance. “Onward to glory!”

This is going to be painfully long. The sliding doors woosh open, letting a wave of cold air blast over us. I hug his jacket tighter around myself as we step inside.

The mall smells like pretzels, coffee, and the faint chemical tang of new clothes. Music hums through the overhead speakers, but it's nothing I recognise, just an upbeat pop song with a heavy bass beat.

Zain guides us straight to the escalators. We ride up the steps hum beneath our feet, and I tap my fingers nervously against the rubber railing.

“You’re not chickening out, are you?” Zain teases.

“No,” I lie.

He grins. “Good. Because if you do, I’m making you try on leather pants. No backsies.”

I groan loudly enough that a woman nearby glances over.

We reach the second floor and step off the escalator, the polished tile gleaming under the overhead lights. Boutique stores stretch out in both directions, glittering with expensive displays.

Zain scans the shops with a critical eye, then points. “There. Velour. They’ll have something perfect.”

We head toward it, weaving around slow-walking teenagers and a woman wrangling a double stroller. Zain leads the way into the boutique without hesitation, holding the door for me.

Inside, everything smells like expensive perfume. Mannequins in tiny dresses and sky-high heels pose under spotlights, and the racks are packed with silk, velvet, and leather.

Zain claps his hands together. “Mission time.”

He beelines for a rack of dresses, fingers flipping through hangers faster than I can even register.

“No. No. God, no,” he mutters. “Maybe if you wanted to scare him away...”

I trail after him, picking half-heartedly at a rack of satin dresses. Nothing feels right.

Suddenly Zain gasps like he’s found the Holy Grail. “Scar! Over here!”

He holds up a black dress, simple, sleek, short, but with a plunging neckline and thin spaghetti straps. The fabric looks buttery soft under the lights.

I step closer, heart thudding. This is, well...Woah. How do I explain this dress? Other than it should be illegal, but d*mn it looks beautiful at the same time.

“You have to try it,” he says, already pushing it into my arms.

I nod mutely, hugging the dress against my chest.

“The dressing rooms are back there,” a salesgirl chirps, appearing out of nowhere with a blinding smile.

“Thanks,” I mumble, following Zain to the back of the store.

The dressing rooms are small but clean, mirrors are lining the walls, and overhead lights are a little too bright.

I duck into one, hanging the dress carefully on the hook. I peel off the hoodie and leggings, shivering slightly in just my underwear. My fingers fumble a little as I pull the dress over my head.

It glides down my body like water, clinging to curves I usually pretend don’t exist.

When I step out, Zain is waiting, arms crossed, eyes bright.

The moment he sees me, he presses a hand to his heart dramatically. “You’re gonna cause accidents.”

I flush under the intensity of his gaze, smoothing the dress over my hips.

“Is it too much?” I ask, biting my lip.

“Too much? It’s perfect. S*xy but still classy. You look like someone who knows exactly what she wants, and is about to take it.”

I turn to the mirror, hardly recognizing the girl staring back at me. Maybe tonight won’t be so scary after all.

Scarlet POV

I twist in front of the mirror one more time, heart hammering in my chest. The dress really is perfect. It hugs my waist, dips low enough to hint at cleavage without screaming desperation, and the way the fabric shimmers under the lights almost makes me feel... dangerous.

“You’re buying it,” Zain says firmly, already yanking the tag up to check the price. He winces slightly but recovers fast. “Worth every penny. Let’s go, Cinderella.”

Just like that, the first dress he finds is perfect. "I envy you," I mutter, and he laughs.

"What's to envy? Other than my fabulous hair?"

"Are you joking? In less than five minutes, you find the perfect dress! How?" I would have been here for weeks.

"All in the fashion, trust me. You're buying it, ignore the price, I'll pay, as a celebration and gift for you finally losing your virginity, even if it could be a better guy."

"Don't," I warn, and he laughs, holding up his hands.

I duck back into