Resisting him started out as an imperative safeguard. And maybe not much time has passed, but time alone is not the only path to understanding your own feelings. Right now, my objection to the idea of us feels like I’m betraying my own heart by pointlessly protecting myself from something that I’ve realized won’t actually hurt me.
Acknowledging all of that to myself is the first step. And a much easier one than confessing it to Warren. Would hesuddenly lose interest because the thrill of the chase would be gone?
Before texting him back, I look at myself in the mirror one more time. I should probably get a move on and get back out there, so I switch over to the camera on my phone so I can take a picture to show Blythe.
I’m not a model, but I know what my flattering angles are, so I turn slightly and lean one shoulder forward to snap a few pics. Clicking on them to see how they look, a slow smile makes its way to my lips and I cover it with my hand.
Damn. I wasn’t expecting it to lookthatcute. Blythe is a genius because I don’t think I’ve ever looked or felt this confident in such a skimpy piece of clothing. It hugs my body perfectly and I amsobuying this.
In a rush, I click on the messaging app and send her the picture. After swiping away from our text thread though, my finger pauses over Warren’s name.
I smirk and sway my hips back and forth with the phone still in my hand. What a shame it’d be if Iaccidentallysent it to him too.
Before overthinking about how immature it is to bait his reaction, I send him the picture for a little theory test
“Oops,” I say with a satisfied shrug.
I take a quick cleansing breath, then set my phone down to try and figure out how the hell I’m going to peel this thing off without ripping the delicate fabric.
After trying and failing to get the side zipper down, my phone buzzes violently on the bench. I lean over to look at the screen without picking it up and see three unread messages from Warren.
Warren
Holy shit.
That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
Show me more.
I swipe the phone from the bench, working to not giggle out loud.
INCOMING FACETIME WARREN
Fucking hell. That wasn’t part of the plan. I know better than to ignore it, he’ll just keep calling until I pick up.
I think about throwing my t-shirt on before answering, but what would be the point? He’s obviously already seen what I have on.
The low timbre of his voice fills the space in the dressing room as soon as I hit the green accept call button.
“Savvy.”
I swipe the curls out of my face, revealing my flushed cheeks. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. What are you trying to do? Kill me?”
I let out a breathy laugh and fiddle with one of the bodysuit straps nervously. “I’m sorry. I must have sent that to you by mistake,” I tease.
Warren is sitting at his desk wearing a gray t-shirt and his typical straw cowboy hat. It’s sitting back on his head and is tilted slightly to the side as if he pulled it off to run a hand through his disheveled hair before calling. I bite my lip while waiting for him to respond, trying not to focus on how badly I want to steal that shirt he’s wearing and sleep in it later.
He stiffens and leans forward in his seat the longer he processes my apology.
“Who the fuck did you mean to send it to?”
My lips part hearing his agitated tone. Is he . . . jealous? I feel the warmth from that realization all the way down to my toes, which I know is silly. I shouldn’t feel giddy about Warren looking like he could strangle someone thinking I’d taken that picture for someone else.
Even so, I smirk with amusement and shrug. And maybe lower the camera angle a bit.
He arches an eyebrow and then blows out a breath. “Don’t play with me.”