“Give me two more minutes.” I yank my gaze away from his and dig through my makeup bag, pulling out a pale pink lip gloss. I open it and slick it on, rubbing my lips together as I assess myself in the mirror.
I wore my hair up to show off the back of the dress, a few little wisps hanging around my face. I gave myself dark, smoky eyes, rosy cheeks and pale lips, going for an understated look. The dress is perfection, I can’t believe how I look in it, and the shoes I’m wearing are daringly high. So high, I probably hit at about Drew’s shoulder. Hopefully I won’t fall on my butt when I walk.
The sparkly earrings and matching chunky rhinestone bracelet complete the outfit. I almost feel overdressed, but Drew’s not complaining so neither am I. I’m still worried about his opinion though, and I focus on zipping my makeup bag closed. Hopefully he thinks I look good. I think he looks gorgeous, but when does he not? The guy could wear a paper bag around his privates and make it look designer.
I called Owen’s friend’s mom earlier and she reassured me Owen was there with them staying the night, so I feel good about that. I tried to call my mom, but no answer. I sent her a quick text letting her know I was all right.
Still no reply. She’s probably hanging out with her flavor of the month and doesn’t have time for me.
Squaring my shoulders, I turn to face Drew. He’s got his hands propped against the top of the doorway and he’s sort of leaning into the bathroom, his shirt stretching across his chest, emphasizing his sheer size. I can smell his cologne, a clean, citrusy scent that smells so good, I want to push my face into his neck and sniff him there. Maybe even lick his skin and see what he tastes like…
My thoughts are getting so out of hand and we still have way too many days left. I’m going to be a complete mess by the time Thanksgiving rolls around.
You can handle this. He’s just a guy. And they don’t mean anything to you.
“Ready?” he asks me after I stand there silently for probably too long.
Nodding, I hold out my cell phone. “I have nowhere to put this. The purse I brought is huge and no way would it look good with my outfit.”
His full lips curl in the faintest smile. “Do you have to take it with you? You can leave it here. We’ll only be gone for a few hours, tops.”
“Well…” My voice trails off. A few hours is too long for me to be without my cell. “I do. What if my brother calls and needs help? Or my mom?”
His gaze softens, fills with understanding. “Can you put it in your—bra?”
I actually giggle. And I never giggle. “I’m surprised you know that old bar trick.” I sober up. “I can’t. I’m not wearing one.”
He looks like he just swallowed his tongue. Just saying that was worth his reaction alone. “I can keep it in my pocket if you want.”
“Really? Thanks. I appreciate it.” I set the phone on vibrate and hand it over, our fingers brushing. Electricity shoots up my arm and rub at it absently while I watch Drew slip my phone into his pocket.
“Let’s go. We’ll meet them outside by the car.”
I follow him out of the guesthouse toward the giant four-car garage. These people live in such excess, it’s staggering. “We’re going to ride with them?”
“My dad insists.” He doesn’t look too pleased which reassures me. I don’t want to ride with them either. “I guess we could take advantage and get shit faced drunk if we want.”
I’ve seen him at La Salle’s plenty of times. “I’ve never seen you drunk. From what you’ve told me, I figure you don’t like to get out of control. To me, getting drunk equals out of control.”
He glances over at me. “You’re right. Guess you’ve got me all figured out.”
“Not quite,” I murmur as we reach the garage. I wish I did, but he’s holding his secrets extra close.
“Aren’t you bringing a coat?”
I shake my head, hold back the gasp that wants to escape when he scoops up my hand with his. My reaction to him is so ridiculous and I really need to learn how to control it. Everything between us isn’t real and I have to remember that. No matter how good it feels.
And my fingers entwined with his feels really, really good.
“You’re going to get cold,” he says as we stop in front of the garage and wait for his parents. A hint of satisfaction rolls through me because after they nag at us from the moment we arrive home, now we’re the ones waiting for them.
“Maybe you’ll keep me warm?” With a smile aimed directly at him, I nudge his upper arm with my shoulder, marveling at his rock hard biceps. I’ve been hoping to catch a glimpse of him with his shirt off, but it hasn’t happened yet. I know beneath the clothes he’s built like a god, and I want to see all that muscly goodness.