One-Eighty (Westover Prep 1)

Today is a good day, too.

Today, she came to my front door and pressed her lips to mine before she even spoke a word. Today, she didn’t pull her hand from mine when my dad saw us standing on the front porch together. Today, she grinned the entire time on the way to the library, and now I know why.

She’s rejoicing in my misery.

“How so?” I repeat when she winks at me as another family makes their way into the library.

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip before she speaks, “How do you want me to repay you?”

I don’t know if she means for her voice to be sultry or if she’s just curious, but my cock jerks in the costume because of the way she’s looking at me.

“I’m sweating bullets,” I remind her. “Maybe you could help me in the shower later?”

I’m pressing my luck right now. Other than a few hands above the shoulders make-out sessions, we haven’t even gotten as close as we did earlier this week at the snow cone stand. I’m proud to say I’ve had herculean restraint where she’s concerned.

“You want me to pick out a change of clothes?” She inches closer, and my eyes do their best to stay focused on hers rather than her mouth or the tiny amount of cleavage swelling at the top of her tank top. “Maybe get you a fresh towel?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of washing my back.” I clear my throat when the words come out husky and barely intelligible. “Maybe making sure my legs are clean?”

“My clothes would get wet.”

“You could take them off,” I suggest as she steps even closer to me. “Maybe shower with me.”

Her throat works on a swallow, and then she nearly kills me by licking her lips. “I don’t hate the idea.”

“That’s a start.” My mouth is dry, and I’m moments away from grabbing her hand and insisting we go back to my house.

“Why do you turn me on so much?” she whispers. “I probably shouldn’t even admit it out loud, but I find you almost irresistible.”

Words that should make me smile in victory are like buckets of ice-cold water being poured on my head. It’s clear she still feels like she can’t be completely honest with me, and it’s a barrier I’ve been fighting against. I know I need to give her time, and I’m doing my best, but the one step forward two steps back is frustrating. I’m not upset with her, but at myself, for the monster I used to be that’s made her so apprehensive in the first place.

I palm her face, looking directly into her eyes. “I’m not filing things away to use against you later, Piper. We’re working at your pace here. There’s no pressure on my end. Please tell me that you know that?”

“I do,” she responds immediately.

“Look, Momma! It’s Clifford!” Before I can pull away from Piper, a little girl, no older than three runs toward us with a huge smile on her face.

“Hi, there!” I tell her, using a fake voice for some reason.

Many kids have been leery of getting close to me in this costume, but this girl isn’t afraid at all.

“Are you ready for storytime?” I ask her.

She nods enthusiastically before sprinting ahead of her mom to go inside.

“Ready to read to them?” Piper asks with a brilliant smile.

I nod, just as the little girl did, but I don’t think I’m giving off the same effect. The big red head just slips back and forth, and I probably look like I’m headbanging to silent music from Piper’s point of view.

***

“That wasn’t so bad,” I admit as I strip out of the stifling costume in the library’s employee breakroom.

“I knew you’d have a great time.” Piper beams.

“I didn’t say I had a great time,” I confess, sticking with my vow to never lie to her again. “I said it wasn’t bad.”

“So, you don’t want to help next weekend?”

My eyes narrow at her because she already knows the answer. “Does it include another costume that’s going to have to be dry-cleaned before someone else wears it?”

“Next week is Harold and the Purple Crayon. We’re going to draw pictures. No costumes involved.”

“That I can do,” I tell her, wanting to pull her into my arms just like I’ve wanted since we arrived, but I wasn’t lying about the temp inside that suit.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asks as she gathers the suit up.

I wipe sweat off my face with the bottom of my t-shirt, loving the way her eyes are glued to my abs.

“I can think of a few things. What are you thinking right now?”

Her guilty eyes snap up to mine, and I grin at her.

“We haven’t been alone all week,” she says, derailing my thoughts of grabbing ice cream or heading to the mall in the next town.