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“Like what you see?”
“You could poke someone’s eye out with that thing.”
Never mind. Clearly, I’m not a normal person.
This time my cheeks are on fire, literally burning with the hot garbage that came barreling out of my mouth like a missile.
Kill. Me. Now.
Please, for the love of all things holy, put me out of my misery. I could have said literally anything else, and I most definitely should not have commented about his dick.
Like at all. Likeever.
Foster chuckles and gestures down to his pelvic region. I’m not sure where, because I’m not planning on looking there again. I’ll keep my eyes right here on his sternum. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning on putting these shorts at anyone’s eye level.”
I drop my head in my hands, and yes, I know I still haven’t looked at him. I’m not ready. Especially not now.
“Mom brain. I don’t know why I said that. Clearly there’s something wrong with me.”
He rests his hand on my shoulder, and even though the fabric of my dress separates us, I swear I can feel his skin rubbing against mine.
A shiver runs down my spine, and dammit… all it took was one innocent touch andThe Crushis back.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” His voice is soft, his accent doing things to my body it shouldn’t. “You’re perfect.” He pauses and gives my shoulder a squeeze. I swear he leans closer to me for a second, just one second, and it’s enough to send my heart into a frenzy. “I’m sure you’re just tired.”
“Tired,” I repeat quietly, letting my hands fall to my sides and lifting my head.
My gaze trails up the length of his red ascot, where it rests momentarily on his Adam’s apple—which, by the way, shouldn’t look that good—before traveling along his plush bottom lip, and finally meeting his vibrant blue eyes.
They’re filled with warmth, but that’s it. There’s not a single hint of arousal on his face anywhere, and there shouldn’t be. I’m just his friend. His teammate's little sister.
This is how I need to be looking at him, but I don’t think I am.
I take a small step back, needing to put a modicum of distance between us. I can’t think clearly when he’s this close. “Hey.”
“Hey, you.” Foster’s lips quirk up in a smile and he looks me over, likely making fun of my costume in his head. “It’s been a while. Nice dress.”
“Nice… ascot.”
He looks down at himself and scowls.
Correction. Growls.
I think he’s offended by his own costume. “I didn’t pick this out.”
“Oh?”
“Pretty sure your brother is fucking with me.” He runs a hand through his hair, and dammit, there goes that stray lock of blonde hair, resting on his forehead again.
“What makes you think that?”
He blows out a breath and looks anywhere but at me. “He’s the only one that knows my obsession with…”
“With what?” I ask as he trails off.
He stays silent for a minute, looking between me and his car like he’s really debating with himself, and now I need to know.
“Stranger Things.”
