But it was difficult to stay focused when the memory of his erection poking against me this morning remained fresh in my mind. Not to mention it had been the best night of sleep I’d had in years, cocooned in his massive arms. Combine that with how gorgeous he was. I was only human.
His biceps flexed as he ran a hand along his jawline, the strong sinews of his forearms standing out like ropes. I’d felt those arms while they’d held me as a friend. What would they feel like if we were more?
“Did I do okay?” he asked, holding his arms out at his sides.
“Yeah, you look good.”
Good. He was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Sleeping next to him last night had clearly flipped some sort of switch in me. And I couldn’t seem to flip it back tojust friendsmode. Waking up with a man’s morning wood stabbing you in the butt does that to a girl, I guess.
His whole look was a vibe. A hot, big, pick-you-up-and- throw-you-around-while-still-being-a-giant-teddy-bear vibe.
“You sure? I mean, I feel like this belt is kinda tight. Do you think it makes my stomach hang over my pants too much?”
Except that. Him feeling self-conscious. That was not a vibe. James’s lack of confidence in his body wasn’t something I could solve for him in ten minutes. But at least I could leave him with no doubts about where I stood on the matter. And maybe it would help him face his classmates.
“James, your pants are fantastic. Real talk, they make your butt look amazing. And that little extra padding you’re so worried about—don’t be. You look strong and capable and sexy. No one cares if you have a dad bod. You’re very on-trend.”
He scoffed but relaxed a little.
“Thanks for saying that. You look fantastic yourself. I don’t think I’ve seen you in heels before.”
I looked down at my feet, encased in three-inch black stilettos. “Fun fact about me—these are my only pair. So take a mental picture because you probably won’t see them again.” I slipped into what I felt was a very respectable Gollum impression when I continued, “Because we hates them.”
He chuckled. “I’m honored.”
Truth be told, I’d given it my best effort to look good for him. Even with my admittedly basic starting point, there was a range, and tonight I aimed to be at the top of it. I’d braided my hair and coiled it into an elaborate updo—something my mom had taught me—and shot it through with red and green ribbons. I thought I’d hit the right balance between milkmaid and sophistication. The style also showed off my long neck and the heart shape of my face, two features I liked.
I’d adhered to the holiday theme with a scooped-neck dark plaid dress that flared before ending just above the knees, leaving my arsenal of jingle bell necklaces and ugly Christmas sweaters at home. Tonight, understatement seemed called for. I wanted to play whatever part I could to help James shine at his reunion. Not be his kitschy, holiday-loving co-worker. Because that didn’t always need to be me. Some nights I could be this—a high-heels and lipstick wearing sophisticate. At least, I thought I could. James made me want to step outside my box a little.
“Well, you look amazing,” James said. “Even if your feet hurt.”
We left for the venue, a ballroom at a downtown hotel. The invitation had advised coming anytime between six and eight p.m., and we’d erred on the later side. James told me he didn’t want to be put in the awkward situation of standing around with only a few people. That he could potentially fade into a larger crowd provided some comfort.
His demeanor shifted as we drove to the hotel. He’d seemed okay-ish at the house, but the closer we got to actually seeing his classmates, the more withdrawn he became.
When we arrived, after turning off the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt, James didn’t make a move to open the driver’s side door. Finally, he said, “This is going to be hard. Doing this for real, not just imagining it.” He turned toward me, and I could see the tendons standing out in his neck. “Have I told you how grateful I am that you came?”
I tilted my head to the side and smiled softly. “You have, but there’s no way it’s more grateful than I am to be here.”
He reached over and cupped my cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured.
We exited the car, our steps echoing across the cavernous hotel parking garage. After shaking some energy out of his hands, James rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck from side to side as we waited for the elevator.
Looping my arm around his elbow as we went up to the main building, I sent up a silent prayer that his old classmates had grown up, that we weren’t walking intoJames in High School, The Sequel.
Chapter twelve
James
Marleyheldmyelbowas we stepped into the lobby. A gigantic sign reading “This Way to High School Memories” greeted us.
I couldn’t think of a single memory I was interested in resurrecting.
My bravado deflated further as I stepped closer to the reunion entrance. I didn’t feel like James, the student-favorite teacher with friends and a job he loved. In an instant, I felt like James, the guy who’d once had four cartons of chocolate pudding scraped into his backpack along with a note.To James. Our favorite puddin’ pie. Did you really think you’d make the team? Loser. That had been ninth grade, after my one attempt to fit in by joining volleyball. I hadn’t made the cut, and the girls watching tryouts had pointed and laughed at my belly where my shirt had ridden up.
Would my old classmates remember me? How they’d made fun of me? Or had it meant nothing to them, dropping casual pain like napalm?
A couple on their way into the reunion walked by. I recognized the woman as Nora Pensley, neither tormentor nor friend in high school. After a quizzical glance, she gave up trying to place me, pulling her companion toward the ballroom.
