Zeus was on Mason’s team. Did Zeus know who she was? He didn’t seem to. Claudia had said the team didn’t really trust him. Maybe he wasn’t around much for discussions about their personal lives. Maybe he had no idea how Yasmine was connected to the team.
If I wanna get laid, I probably shouldn’t tell him.
Definitely not how she would start out a relationship… but she wasn’t doing relationships anymore. Or dating. Or getting her hopes up about a future with men. But that meant that she didn’t have to tell Zeus that she was tangentially connected to his life; it wasn’t like they had a future together, anyway.
That was assuming Zeus was even interested in fucking her. Even though she was pretty sure he was. No one could be completely obtuse to that kind of chemistry, right? There was no possibility she was the only one feeling it. He’d have to be completely obtuse not to have noticed the sexual tension.
Zeus did not seem obtuse.
Hey, that rhymed.
Hope rolled over on the bed, jerking Yasmine out of her thoughts. Crap, she needed to change into something comfortable. But still cute.
No, wait.
She wasn’t trying to attract him. Even if there was sexual tension between them. She needed to rewire her brain and stop trying to attract a relationship. If she was going to try to date him, the very last thing she would do was wear actual old, saggy sweats around him. Which meant exactly what she needed to do now was get her most comfy clothes, the ones she’d rather be dead than have a hot man see her in, and wear those. Because she wasn’t trying to date him. She wasn’t going to get her hopes up.
And the best way to signal that to her brain was to do something that went against everything she would do if she was trying to date him and break the curse—wear the clothes she’d rather be caught dead than be seen in and take off her makeup.
Ugh.
This was going to be difficult.
Yasmine had never regretted her choices more than she did five minutes later when Zeus knocked on the front door of Sarah’s house, and she opened it. She was wearing threadbare black sweatpants and a plain grey t-shirt with paint stains and a hole in the seam of the right shoulder.
Zeus was wearing a tightly fitted black t-shirt and a pair of slutty grey sweatpants. Yes, those kind of sweatpants. Brenda would have had a field day if she ever saw him in them.
He looked hot as hell, and she looked like the worst version of herself.
Which was the whole point… but man, it sucked.
Zeus
When Yas opened the door, Zeus had to blink twice. When she’d said she was getting into sweatpants, in his head, he’d still pictured a pair of tightly fitted yoga pants. Those stretchy leggings that women liked to wear and pretend were comfortable. Possibly a matching top.
What he had not expected was honest-to-God “just got broken up with” sweats and a t-shirt that had seen better days. He liked that she’d managed to surprise him. Her face was also scrubbed clean of makeup, and her hair was pulled back in a messy bun that was actually messy, a little lopsided, and not at all the ‘styled’ messy he’d sometimes seen women do.
“Come on in.” When she stepped back, there was something defeated about her posture. At least she looked defeated until Tiger bounded in and immediately pressed himself against her legs. Then her expression bloomed into a wide smile as she bent forward to pet him. “Well, hello there, handsome.”
The manicured fingernails were all that remained of prim and proper Yasmine; now, she really did look like Yas.
He liked it just as much as he did when she was all dressed up.
“Have you already ordered dinner?” he asked when she straightened up again. Tiger took it upon himself to dash deeper into the house and explore. Probably looking for Hope. Yas blinked and gave Zeus an odd look. The way she was hesitating, he wondered if she’d expected him to see her in her new outfit and go running.
Just like she’d thought she’d send him running with her suggestion of him joining her for the evening.
Amused, Zeus deliberately walked past her, sending home the message that he wasn’t going anywhere. Had the men she’d dated in the past really gone running just because she’d wanted a girly night? Or dressed in sweats?
Pathetic, if so.
Was this a test for him? Or was she trying to put up some barriers because she wasn’t actually interested in him but didn’t want to be alone?
Could be either.
“So, dinner?” he asked, turning back to face her. She closed the front door behind her, a befuddled expression still on her face.
“I haven’t ordered it yet.”
