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“Whoa.” He raises his hands in an attempt at surrender. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
He shrugs and pulls at his backpack on his arm uncomfortably before fixing his hat and hair again.
I want to hate him. But now he’s being all earnest and coy and I can’t stop staring at his arms.
“I didn’t know. For the record, I live two blocks away, and I keep our lawn very tidy.” He smirks and nudges my shoulder. “You are funny and chill. I don’t know if you're smart yet, so I’ll have to find that out, but maybe you’re right. If the rest of your sisters are like you, then there is nothing wrong with being an ASA.”
Ok, that was nice. And cute.
Fuck.
Why can’t I stop staring at his arms?
“So, what’s wrong with the sign?” He asks, motioning to the house.
Yeah right. Like he can’t see it?
“It’s crooked! I should be able to hang a sign! I counted the shingles and measured it, but it’s still crooked!” Frustrated, I throw my hands up and stomp my foot like a child having a tantrum.
I’ve spent hours today cleaning and unpacking and getting stuff ready for the pledge meet and greet tomorrow. The other girls are inside doing the same.
I’ve been standing out here for what feels like forever, trying to hang a sign that I thought would look so great!
It looks like shit!
Nick comes behind me and starts to massage my shoulders.
Memories of those big calloused hands rubbing my bare back flood in. I take a deep breath to stop myself from moaning.
He’s good at this.
I needed a massage.
My entire body relaxes under his touch.
“I don’t think it looks crooked.” He whispers into my ear. His body moves closer to my back. I feel his abdomen and chest brushing against me. “Could just be the sign. It looks perfect.”
You’re perfect.
What? Nope. His hands are very distracting.
“Yeah, maybe.” I agree without opening my eyes and just relaxing into his touch.
Leaning into him, I feel the hard planes of his pecs against the tops of my shoulders, snapping me out of this trance.
He’s wrong about the sign, but I think I see the problem now.
The shingles on the right are smaller than the others. It’s been throwing off my measurements.
Still massaging my shoulders, he leans in and his lips brush lightly against my ear sending chills down my spine.
“You got this,” he whispers before dropping his hands and stepping away leaving me cold and tense again.
His touch instantly relaxed me and I miss it as soon as it’s gone.
“See you Saturday!” He calls out, running away.
I’m still not sure if I’m going Saturday. But he just left me all riled up on the sidewalk staring up at a crooked sign above my door.
