Chapter 15 #3
I tie the belt around the robe, both relieved that he’s given me something to cover up with and also disappointed that he didn’t pull me to him, ready to explore my body.
He doesn’t see you that way; you’re like a big sister to him.
Except even as I try to convince myself that this is true, it’s not consistent with how he looks at me.
“I came up to change,” he says, and it’s like he’s grinding the words out through clenched teeth.
“Looks like we both had the same idea,” I say with a level of confidence I certainly don’t feel.
I turn to face him, look him straight in the eye as I remind myself that there’s no reason to be embarrassed.
Sure, my superhot roommate just saw my boobs, but I’m guessing he’s seen hundreds of pairs of them before.
Maybe thousands. Since he’s clearly had no reaction to seeing mine, it’s obviously no big deal.
Except that it is, in the sense that he’s one of a handful of people to have ever seen this set.
“Let me grab my dress from the closet,” I say when he still hasn’t spoken. “I’ll get dressed in the bathroom and you can get dressed out here.”
“Okay,” he says, his voice thick in a way I can’t decipher.
I grab the dress on the hanger, slip back into the bathroom, and breathe a sigh of relief when the door is firmly shut between us.
After hanging the dress on the door hook, I turn and look at myself in the mirror as I try to quantify what I’m feeling right now.
My cheeks are flushed from both the embarrassment and the exhilaration of Beau seeing me practically naked.
My underwear is damp and every nerve ending in my skin is humming with anticipation.
I give my body an internal talk, reminding it that like so many other decisions in life, just because it feels like a good idea doesn’t mean it is.
I slip into the black skater dress I borrowed from Petra and reach behind me to pull up the zipper.
It’s low-cut enough that you get an eyeful of my cleavage, with thin straps that go over my shoulders and cross in the back.
The only reason I can wear this dress without a bra is because it’s got built-in cups under the fabric and a structured waist that goes up to the chest. The skirt flutters out from my hips and while short, it still covers my upper thighs.
I look and feel sexy in this dress, which made it the perfect Vegas dress .
. . until Beau arrived. Now I’m half afraid of how he’s going to look at me when I walk out of this room.
I crack open the door and ask if he’s decent.
“I’m wearing more than just my underwear,” he says dryly.
“Hardy har.” I step out and find him standing there in dark gray wash jeans and a fitted black short-sleeve shirt. He’s wearing black shoes and a black blazer. He’s the perfect blend of casual and dressy, and holy shit does he look hot.
He barely looks at me as I walk into the room; he definitely doesn’t look like he wants to devour me. I should be relieved, but instead I feel mildly disappointed.
I sit on the bed as I fit the gel pads into my heeled booties, then slip them onto my feet and stand. I love how tall I am in these shoes, the height gives me more confidence. “You ready?” I ask Beau.
“Yep,” he responds, looking up at me finally. Nothing. There is nothing in his eyes, just complete indifference—the same way he’d look at a stranger.
Well, okay. That tells me everything I need to know.
I slide on my cropped leather jacket, then turn and grab the thin card wallet that I’ve already stuffed with my license, room key, credit card, and cash. “Here,” Beau says, “why don’t you let me keep that in my front pocket with my wallet so you don’t lose it.”
“Why would I lose it?” I’m annoyed at the suggestion that I can’t take care of myself.
“I assume you aren’t going to wear that jacket all night, plus those pockets don’t have zippers, which would make it really easy for that wallet to fall out, or someone to take it out.”
What he’s saying makes a lot of sense, so even though I don’t like the idea of having to rely on him every time I need money, I go ahead and hand my wallet over to him with a grumbled “Okay. Thanks.”
“Hey,” he says gently, grabbing my wrist as I go to pull my hand back, “what’s wrong?”
Little flashes of electricity are prickling my skin where his fingers meet my wrist, and the heat is spreading pleasantly through my body. Does he feel it too? “Nothing,” I say, looking down at my feet.
He uses his free hand to tilt my chin up so he’s looking me in the eye. “Is this because I walked in on you when you were changing? I’m sorry about that. I don’t want it to make things awkward between us.”
The only thing that’s awkward right now is how badly I want him, and how unreciprocated that feeling is.
“It’s fine. I’m sure you see girls’ boobs all the time.”
“Not like that I don’t.” Before I have a moment to even consider what he means by that, he’s putting his hand on my lower back, turning and guiding me toward the door with a mumbled “Let’s go.”