Getting out a spoon, I took out my own spoonful from the jar and showed her what a real spoonful was.
She rolled her eyes.
“I’m hungry, and peanut butter is good for you. It gives you lots of energy,” she teased.
I grinned and took another lick.
Her eyes followed the movement.
I pulled the spoon away from my mouth and gestured at her still overflowing spoonful.
“That’s more like a half a cup,” I pointed out. “But who am I to tell you what to eat? You’re definitely nowhere near needing to worry about what you put in your mouth.”
Her eyes flared. “You don’t care what I put in my mouth?”
Oh, I cared a lot. When it came to a few things that pertained to my body.
But when it came to food? Not so much.
I was just about to lean into her and kiss that tiny smirk off of her lips when the door to the kitchen burst open, causing us both to jump and separate.
Guilt was written all over Perry’s face as we watched her dad barrel through the door.
He took one look at us and halted.
“I forgot my lunch.” He eyed his daughter’s undressed state, then moved his gaze toward me. “Where is your car?”
I licked my lips, wondering if I should lie, but he just shook his head.
As if he didn’t want to hear the answer to my question.
“Whatever,” he said. “I gotta go. I’m on break for another eight and a half minutes. I couldn’t live through the day if I didn’t have my lunch.”
He was opening the fridge in seconds, pulling out a rather large lunch box, and walking right back out the door moments later.
But, seconds after that, he came back in, pointed his prosthetic arm at me, and said, “If you fuckin’ knock her up… you’re gonna die.”
With that he left, leaving us both standing there speechless.
“You’re on birth control, right?” I asked what I knew to be true.
She giggled nervously. “Yes. And I take it like clockwork every single day. I never forget.”
I grinned at her. “Good.”
Glancing at the clock that was behind her on the microwave, I winced. “I need to go or I’m going to miss first period practice.” I paused. “Are you coming to the game tonight?”
She nodded. “I have a game myself tonight at five. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done.”
I groaned. “I’m going to miss you in those shorts.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll wear them to your game. There’s no reason to change out of my uniform. I’m just going to get hot and sweaty all over again.”
“Thank God for small miracles,” I said.
She rolled her eyes and took her spoonful of peanut butter with her as she made her way back up the stairs to her room.
I followed and watched her get dressed, wondering idly why she went for the sweats.
“Why are you wearing sweats when it’s a hundred degrees out?” I asked curiously.
She lifted her brows at me. “You’re one to talk. You work out in them.”
I shrugged. “I end up on the ground a lot. I don’t like the feel of grass, either. So I wear pants that’ll block it.”
She rolled her eyes and tossed the sweats onto the bed, then went to her dresser where she pulled out a pair of jeans.
I watched as she pulled the tight jeans up the length of her legs, then over her ass, and realized that I wasn’t quite sure about this outfit, either.
“Damn,” I said when she buttoned them. “You look good in those.”
She smiled at me, her face heating slightly.
“It’s hard to wear pants when I have to sit all day. If they fit my waist, they’re too tight on my thighs. If they fit my thighs, then they’re too loose on my waist. So I wear sweats.” She paused. “But I’ll wear these for you.”
I licked my lips and wondered what it was about her that just did it for me.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I said when she took off her shirt.
She was braless, and it took everything I had not to reach for her and pull her into my arms.
But seriously, we were really late.
I planted my feet and crossed my arms, watching as she went to a drawer next to where she’d unearthed the jeans and pulled out a bra.
It was white cotton. So not sexy at all.
Yet, when she pulled it on, it suddenly became the stuff of Victoria’s Secret ads everywhere.
I licked my lips, and her laughter followed.
“We’re going to be late, Banner,” she said as she walked to the closet and slipped down a red and black t-shirt.
When she pulled it over her head, my eyes went to the writing.
And I suddenly got irrationally pissed.
It was a big—way too big to be hers—red t-shirt with black writing that said ‘Kilgore Bulldogs Football.’
“Where’d you get that?” I found myself saying.