Her hair is wrapped in a towel turban-style, up on top of her head. “Yes?”
I bet her hair smells like that peach-infused shampoo she uses. Yeah, I sniffed it in the shower. So what? Sue me.
“Your phone has been blowing up.” I hand her the thing, and she tucks it into her pocket. “Aren’t you going to check your messages?”
“I will when I get to my room.”
Yeah, that’s not going to cut it. I’m sick of waiting and these questions aren’t going to answer themselves. “What is a sex bra?”
Her back stiffens, and she freezes mid-step. When she whirls, there’s a fire in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. “You went through my phone?”
“Of course not. It was on the counter and some messages popped up.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to read them!”
Irrelevant details because Ididread them.
“So…sex bra?” Obviously it’s a bra, but the way those two words are combined have all sorts of dirty ideas running through my mind. Is it a bra specifically made for sex with like, the nipples cut out, or just a typo and her friend really meant “sexy” bra?
“No. You and I are not having this conversation,” she says like she thinks shutting this down is going to keep me from bringing it up every chance I get. Eventually, she will break. When she does, I shall celebrate with one of those big chocolate chip cookie cakes they sell at the mall. I’ve always wanted to try them but have never pulled the trigger.
Loren doesn’t seem like the type to wear a nipple-less bra. I guess there could be another option. “Is that the bra you wear when you want to get laid?” Her face flushes. “Holy shit. I’m right, aren’t I? You have a lucky bra.” It’s like August’s lucky underwear he used to throw on back in high school every time we had a soccer game, except way hotter.
“I do not. Go away.”
“What color is it?” I bet it’s red. Please, tell me it’s red. “Can I see it?”
“I’m not showing you my bra, Elliott!” She sprints the rest of the way into her room, the hem of her robe flapping against her bare calves before she slams the door shut.
“You don’t have to be wearing it,” I call through the barrier. I mean, she could if she wanted to, but from the horrified look on her face when I brought it up, she doesn’t seem into it. Which is absolutely for the best, especially if it’s nipple-less.
“Come on, how else will I know when to avoid knocking on your door because you’re knocking boots?”
There may be a door between us, but I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “You’re disgusting.”
Yeah, yeah. “I’m not the one with a sex bra.”
My cousin—the brother I never had—is about to understand the definition of wrath.
If murder wasn’t illegal and if I didn’t need him to help run the bar, he would be swimming at the bottom of the lake right now.
As it stands, my roommate has agreed to assist me in this most devious endeavor, along with her friend Meg.
When the leggy blonde walks into the bar next to Loren, the game is afoot.
August zeroes in on our new guests like a sniper. “Who’s the stunner?”
I glance around at the few patrons already seated at the bar, pretending I don’t know who he’s talking about.
He takes either side of my head and points me toward the newcomers. “The one with your girl. She looks familiar. She was here before, right?”
Loren isn’t my girl; she’s my roommate. But saying that to August will only garner some stupid response like, “Methinks thou doth protesteth too much.”
I shake him off. He knows how I feel about him touching me. “Yeah, she came in the night Loren dumped her ex.” I twist around, catching Loren’s gaze in the mirror behind the bottles. “Loren said you made quite the impression.”
He steps closer, the toes of our shoes brushing. “Bullshit. Really?”
Why is this so easy? It’s sad when you think about it. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but she was asking if you were single.”
