Page 29 of The Attack Zone
“Huh?” I look up to see Thomas standing just a few feet away from me.
“I’ve been trying to get your attention, dude,” he says. “You good?”
That’s the thing. Despite Stacey apparently not wanting me again, I am good. I’msogood, actually. Because at least I got one night with her. But I can’t fucking tell him. This is going to drive me nuts.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, trying to be nonchalant.
“Alright,” he says, clearly not actually believing me. “Do you want to grab lunch?”
“I have to pick up Stacey for our wedding venue tour,” I say. “I should probably get showered, actually.”
“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” he says as we skate towards the bench.
I let out a little chuckle. If only he knew.
“You’re not mad about it, right?” he asks while we waddle down the hallway towards the entrance to the dressing room.
“Why would I be mad about it?” I ask. “It does make a lot of sense, even if we were both a bit taken aback by the idea at first.”
“Because sometimes it seems like you hate her as much as she hates you,” he says. “I know you don’t, but you clearly get under each other’s skin a lot.”
We do. And it led to the most incredible night of my life.
“She knows I don’t hate her,” I say. “We talked about it.”
I don’t mention the fact that we talked about it the same night I happened to also grind up on her on a Miami dance floor, because even if Stacey only said she didn’t want people to know about the sex, that feels like it’s connected. And it feels like a moment that should just be ours, if I’m being honest.
“Really?” he asks. “How did that go?”
“Fine,” I say, not wanting to elaborate for fear of giving away too much. “I think we’ll be okay.”
I start taking off my gear and check my phone. I have a text from Stacey.
Stacey: Make sure you dress nicely, Mitch.
Even seeing her type my name over text does something weird to me. I’m transported back to last night again, and now I know for sure that I am not going to be able to act normal around her today. The question is, will she be able to? And if not, what on earth are we going to do about it?
CHAPTER 15
STACEY
I’m standing in the entryway of my apartment building waiting for Mitch to pick me up. I can’t for the life of me figure out why I texted him about what to wear. I’ve never once seen him dress inappropriately for something. And either the dude knows what works for him, or everything works for him, because every single time I’ve seen him he looks good. Even when I’ve seen him in sweats, they somehow work. It’s mind boggling. So my telling him to dress nicely was probably a dig. Why does he bring out the bitch in me like this?
I hear a honk come from outside the front doors of my building and see Mitch’s SUV pulled up to the curb. I take a deep breath, push open the door, and brace for impact. I’m not sure how this is going to go, but I’ve been dreading it all morning. I barely got any work done despite having several deadlines hanging over my head.
I open the passenger door to Mitch’s car and my eyespromptly start to appraise his outfit, because I am who I am, and that happens to be a bit of an asshole when it comes to Mitch, I guess. My eyes glide up from his boots, to his snug-fitting chinos, to his button up under a sweater. Then they land on his face. His beard is neatly trimmed and his hair is perfectly imperfect. His entire existence is so perfect for the occasion, and I know I shouldn’t be surprised. Maybe I’m not so much surprised as I am just taken aback by how much I want to crawl across the center console and kiss his face. It’s alarming as fuck.
Before I can realize I’ve been blatantly staring, there’s a crinkle on the edge of each of his eyes as a smile starts to spread across his face.
“I see I passed the outfit test,” he says.
Oh boy, did he ever.
“I didn’t say anything,” I say as I crawl up into the car and pull the door shut behind me, avoiding eye contact.
“You didn’t have to,” he says with a grin. “Your face said it all.”
Shit.