“Of course. White looks good on you,” I say as I nod my chin at him. “You should wear it more often.”
“Nah, you know black’s my color. Like my soul,” he winks at me. He couldn’t be more wrong.
Fuck, the chokehold on my heart this guy has. I’m down bad for him.
I tilt my head back and forth, giving him a glance over. “I don’t know. You look more wholesome in white, all virgin-like.”
He points to the print. “Sinner, Seth. I’m a sinner.”
I squint, as if in thought. “You’re right. What was that in the bible, you should not fuck both women and men, or something?”
He burst out laughing. “Yeah, something like that.”
I keep sneaking glances at Kaden all day. And every time he looks back, my stomach flutters. He looks so good today. I mean,he always looks good but knowing he also smells like me and that he’s wearing my clothes and slept in my bed last night, it does things to me.
I know I’m setting myself up for disaster. I know this’ll come back to bite me in the ass, but I can’t help it. He’s under my skin, in my thoughts, all the time. I want to be near him, touch him, hold him, kiss him, look at him. And I want him to want me, too.
So, I’ve decided to ride this wave out. Come hell or high water, I’ll deal with the consequences when I get to that bridge. Because if this is all there is, I’m going to take it all and not leave a single crumb.
I got off work two hours ago. Kaden was still in the midst of tattooing some girl’s thigh—awesome design, of course, he’s a tattoo god. I showered and went to get dressed and that’s when I spotted the box I shoved in the far back of my closet.
My heart rate’s through the roof as I unpack it. And when I open it, I feel like I might get sick. And then I get another feeling in my stomach. Sadness, nostalgia, shame and anger, it’s a mix of everything.
I ignore most of its content until I find what I’m looking for, and take them out. It’s my black Amiri Thrasher jeans—my favorite pair when I was in high school. Before… everything.
God, I used to love these. I thought I looked so good in them. Lou said my ass was like a peach, and I used to feel sexy and slender and… And everything about that was just wrong.
I put them on, hands shaking as I pull the zipper up. They’re a tighter around my thighs and ass now than they were back then.
Chicken legs.
My front door lock clicks, and I freeze. Standing in the full-length mirror dressed in shame, my eyes grow wide and my pulse start hammering. I don’t have time to take them off. They’re too fucking tight.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck!
“Yo!” Kaden calls from the hallway, and I think my heart will give out on me, it’s beating so fast. My hands are clammy, and I feel like my hoodie’s strangling me.
I’m caught. I’m caught! What the fuck will he to think of me now?
He whistles as he walks into my bedroom. “New pants?”
“No! Uh, no, they’re, uh…” I shake my head, trying to come up with something but my mind’s blank. “They’re old. They’re not…”Not what? Not mine?“They’re old,” I repeat. “I’m not gonna wear them.” I force a chuckle, almost choking myself.
“Why not?” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
I frown. “’Cause they’re… I mean, they’re too tight.”
He gives me a once over, frowning a little. “What? Too small, or…?”
“No, but, like, they’re…”
“I think they look good,” he replies with a shrug.
I swallow, opening my mouth, then closing it again.
He tilts his head to the side. “What’s wrong? Why do you look all panicky?”
“I don’t, it’s just… They’re too tight. I look—” I bite my tongue.
