Page 138 of In Somnis

He clears his throat abruptly and turns back to the dresser. “Come on. Next outfit. Clock’s ticking.”

I only hesitate a second before retreating to the bedroom and yanking the blouse over my head, then stepping out of my pants in a graceless hop that nearly takes me down with them. A few moments later, I’m standing there in my skirt, dark stockings, and the maroon lace bra I picked this morning because it made me feel put together like someone who might be kissed on purpose.

My fingers pause on the edge of my beige sweater with the low V-neck.

Would Paul think this is a pretty bra?

The memory of the black one he washed for me flickers up, how he looked at it, and heat blooms under my skin.

God. Get a grip, Lenny.

He’s not going to see your bra today.

I’m still staring down at myself when Nevan’s voice cuts through the apartment, yelling my name loud enough that I yank the bedroom door open.

“Nevan? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Spencer is calling.” He waves my phone at me with a mischievous grin. “Should I pick up?”

“God, no. Just put it on silent.”

He doesn’t put it on silent. He answers it.

“Nevan!”

I launch myself at him, making a grab for the phone, but he lifts his arm higher like this is suddenly a very stupid game of keep-away. He’s standing at his full, infuriating height, and even on my tiptoes, fingers stretching, skirt riding up, dignity evaporating, I’m nowhere close.

“Hey, man. Bad timing. She’s currently being aggressively pursued by someone with better hair.”

He hangs up, and I stop struggling.

“Did you really just say that?”

He shrugs. “I panicked.”

He looks entirely too pleased with himself, but then his gaze flickers down my body, and the grin drops clean off his face.

Oh.

Right.

I am standing in front of him in my bra.

Heat detonates across my cheeks as I fold my arms instinctively while Nevan’s gaze rockets toward the ceiling.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, swallowing. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“It’s fine.” I aim for breezy. “These things have a strong stage presence.”

“That’s not…” He stops himself, then thrusts my phone toward me without looking, his cheeks flushing pink. “Maybe… go get dressed?”

“Great plan. Love that plan.” I take the phone and retreat to the bedroom, dragging the beige sweater I had in mind over my head before forcing myself to walk back out like a person who has never in her life forgotten she was half naked.

Nevan is exactly where I left him, except now he’s very deliberately not assembling anything. Instead, he’s turning the screwdriver slowly between his fingers, staring at the floor. When he notices me, his shoulders shift in that subtle, boy-caught-doing-something-stupid way.

“Hey,” he says.

I lean against the doorframe. “You shouldn’t have answered it.”