Page 42 of The Devils They Are
He laughs softly, my ears laser focused on the sound despite the pouring rain and thunder outside. "I hope you plan to share."
"With you?" I question with amusement. "Aren't you worried I'll poison your food?"
"Nah," he answers casually. "Because I'd share my homemade chocolate chip cookies. Sharing is caring."
"Now you're just being mean and pulling my leg," I laugh. "The Rylan Astor does not bake homemade cookies. Or share."
I can just imagine the smug smirk on his face, his tone cocky. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Bex. I might surprise you yet."
You already are.
There's an unshakable urge to slap myself. I hate how easy we can talk in the safety of our own company, away from prying eyes.
Even last night on the rooftop, the tension was palpable, but I didn't feel uneasy at all. Just two leaders, seemingly letting our walls down for a brief minute while we bonded over a common battle.
"I'm surprised you haven't disputed the transaction with your credit card company."
Rylan hums thoughtfully. "I considered it. But given how disadvantaged the wildcats are, I wanted to be nice."
My lips twitch. "How generous of you, Rylan. Did you ever find your pants?"
A pause.
"What do you mean? You stole them when you took my shorts."
I quickly turn my laugh into a cough. "No, no—you're mistaken. Iaccidentallyput them into the trash in the locker room. You just had to look."
More silence.
And more.
"What?" he near shouts, just as another block of thunder booms through both sides of the call. "They were there the whole time?"
"Yep," I grin. "I didn't force you into my shorts. You did that all on your own. But side note—why didn't you have underwear in your bag? Probably would have been a better look to stroll out in your jersey and tightie-whities."
Rylan growls low. "Tai bet me that I couldn't run gym while commando. So, I didn't wear any that day."
"Oh, so youdoown underwear. Good to know," I mock.
There's a split second pause as Rylan's breathing hitches. "I'm wearing boxer trunks right now. In fact, that's the only thing I'm wearing."
"I—"
My sentence disappears mid-thought, the mental image of Rylan in only his boxer trunks appearing in my mind. I've seen all his muscles through his gym shirt, so I know that the guy is packing. And once again, my hormonal brain goes into survival mode as I try to permanently delete that image.
"You're thinking about it right now, aren't you?" he asks incredulously.
"No."
"Bexley," he drawls out. "Are you thinking about me… naked?"
I slap my hand on my forehead, squeezing my eyes closed. "Absolutely not, Rylan Astor. I have zero desires to ever see you naked—or discuss it. Tell me more about your baking skills."
Rylan laughs knowingly. "It's okay. We've all seen your ass hanging out in those shorts. It certainly fucks with the imagination."
"You're a pervert," I snap playfully. "And for your information, I've been trying to search Facebook Marketplace for a new pair since you haven't given mine back."
"If you want them, come and get them."
