“Oh, but you are. I need to make sure you don’t embarrass me with your…eccentric outfit choices.”
“First of all…” She holds her finger up in my face.
I bite at her.
She grimaces in poorly disguised disgust. “Can you not keep your mouth to yourself?”
“I—”
Denny holds her hand up. “You know what, don’t tell me. Anyway, how dare you judge my fashion sense! It’s…it’s…”
“Awkward? Confusing? Basically nonexistent?”
“No!”
“No offense, Den, but I ran into you last week while you were wearing brightly colored yoga pants, a sweater that was about four times too big, and no bra.” I lean down. “And by the way, I was so happy to see that your nipples were enjoying my eyes on them.”
A surprised gasp escapes from her lips then her breaths grow labored. She’s rattled. She likes that my eyes were on her.
I liked it too.
Collecting herself, she crosses her arms over her chest like she’s protecting it from my prying eyes, which is pointless because she’s unfortunately wearing a bra today. I already checked.
“It was the middle of the night!” she reasons—or attempts to.
“All I’m hearing are excuses. Besides, us shopping together means your dress and my tie will match.”
“I could always text you a picture.”
“You still have my number?”
Her attention falls to the floor as she stammers through an uncertain, “N-N-No.”
I can’t tell if she’s stammering because she’s lying or because she’s ashamed she deleted my number.
I have never wanted somebody to be lying so badly in my entire life.
“I still have yours.”
Her bewildered gaze finds mine, searching to see if I’m being honest.
I am.
I haven’t used it in…well, years, but I have it. I still have all our texts too.
Technology is kind of amazing in that way. Nowadays, you can save texts from years past, hold on to the memories of before—you know, before you turned your own life into shit with your insecurities.
There were moments when I wanted to delete her from my phone, from my mind—because of my own shame, nothing to do with her—but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Erasing her wouldn’t erase my mistakes, no matter how hard I tried to make that happen.
“I have all our texts too,” I confess, still holding her stare.
Her pupils grow, and I swear I’ve melted the ice around her heart by at least an inch.
She licks at her lips, her eyes dropping to my chest as she says, “I’ll go shopping with you, Shep.”
EIGHT
DENVER
I SHOULD HAVE INSISTED on taking my own car.
As it turns out, when it comes to Shepard Clark, I’m still the biggest idiot around.
“What are we doing here? I can’t afford this store.” He pulls his steel gray truck into the parking lot of a high-end store about an hour south of where we live. “And on top of that, you never said we were going so far away. I have a job to do, you know. I didn’t even tell anyone I’d be gone so long.”
“You really think your boss will be mad if you’re out shopping with me?”
“You say that like you’re someone special.”
He side-eyes me with a shit-eating grin. “You know I am.”
“They make medicine for that, you know.”
“For what?”
“Your constipation. Being so fucking full of shit all the time has to start hurting after a while.”
His boisterous laugh echoes as he pulls into a parking space. He slides his baseball cap off and tosses it onto the dash, running a hand through his messy hair. “Get your ass inside, Andrews.”
We climb out of the truck and trudge into the store I cannot even remotely afford to shop in.
“Welcome to Landry’s,” says the saleswoman who opens the door for us. “What brings you in today?”
Shep hitches his thumb back toward me. “Miracles. We need to make miracles happen.”
I sigh. “Are you going to annoy me forever?”
He spins around, smirking. “Quit pretending like you hate it—and me.”
“NO.”
“You didn’t even look!”
“Because I don’t have to. It’s not the right color.”
I stand before him in a pale yellow dress that I think looks stunning.
He doesn’t. Again.
Why is he always so judgy about dresses?
I groan. “You have shot down literally every single dress I’ve tried on, which has been like fifteen. How much longer are we going to have to do this?”
He sits there with one leg resting on the other, a bored expression plastered on his face as he scrolls aimlessly through his phone.
His eyes, though—they’re giving away his pleasure.
He’s enjoying every single second of this torment.
Bastard.
“I’ve told you ten times: try this stack on and we’ll be good to go.”
“I am not letting you pick my dress for me. It’s bad enough I’m letting you pay for it.”
“You’re seriously still upset I’m buying you thousands of dollars’ worth of very fancy dresses that you get to keep forever?”
“Yes,” I say stubbornly.
“You can barely say that with a straight face.” He points to the mound of fabric beside him. “Try them and we can leave.”
“And if I hate them? Then what?”
He sighs. “Then we can still leave.”
I march over to him, snatch the dresses up, and tuck myself away in the dressing room for the millionth time this afternoon.
I shoot my boss another quick text, letting him know I’ll be even later than expected, and then I send my intern one too, apologizing for abandoning her with the mountain of work I have to do.
Neither of them give a shit because I’m with the Shepard Clark.
Ugh. Spare me.
I somehow manage to wrangle the zipper down—I am not inviting Shep in here to help—and pull the first dress off the hanger.
It’s black and boring and I really don’t want to try it on.
Surprise overcomes me when I slide the dress on and glance at my reflection in the mirror. It fits like a glove, accentuating my curves in ways I didn’t know a garment could for people who aren’t Blake Lively or Eva Mendes.
It’s conservative with no cleavage showing and long sleeves, so there’s not much that screams sexy until you come to the diamond-shaped cutout on each hip. It’s enough to make the dress suggestive, but not enough to take away from the classy look.
As much as I hate to admit it, Shep was right. This is the perfect dress.
“I’d do me,” I say with a shrug.
“I’d do you too. Now get out here and show me how right I was.”
Sighing, I push open the curtain and step out.
Shep sits forward. He moves his eyes over me in a painfully slow perusal.
Hunger—it’s there in his gaze as he pushes up from the chair and stalks toward me with purposeful strides. My heart rate is soaring higher and higher with each step, so loud I’m certain he can hear it as he comes near.
He doesn’t stop until he’s just a few inches from me.
Cinnamon. He smells like cinnamon. I fucking love cinnamon.
“It’s my gum,” he says, and I realize I’ve said it out loud.
Shit.
I don’t realize he’s reached out to me until his fingertips graze softly over my exposed hip, the touch causing me to jump.
“Does it hurt?”
“Huh?”
“The bruise—does it hurt? I saw you hit your hip on the corner of your desk when you attacked me.”
I glance down at where his fingers are resting against my skin, and for the first time, I notice there’s a purple mark forming.
He’s right, I did hit my hip
, but I was so caught up in the moment that I didn’t care. Then during the hour-long car ride here, I was so focused on trying not to stare at him in his insanely hot baseball cap that I stared at my phone the whole time and forgot my hip was throbbing.
“I forgot about it. I didn’t realize it was starting to bruise.”
“You’ll have to save this dress for one of our later events so it can heal.”
I find his gaze again and turn my face toward his. He’s no longer staring at my hip. His swirling green and brown eyes are locked onto my own.
“You look beautiful, Denver.”
There’s something in the way he says it, something that grabs at my heart and tugs on the strings. I don’t know if it’s the way he uses my full name—something he hardly ever does—or if it’s the fire in his eyes that’s sending his words straight into my chest.
“I…”
My lips are his sole focus now.
I could recite the phone book for him and I don’t think he’d ever look away.
Worse? I don’t think I’d want him to.
“How’d you know?”
“What?”
“How’d you know this dress was going to be the one?”
With reluctance, he draws his eyes up to mine.
“If you think for a second that while you spent the last five years hating me, I’ve been blind to your body…” His hand trails down my hip, dipping way too close to my ass.
God do I hate that I want him to keep going.
“To these curves…” He moves his touch upward, his fingertips teasing me at the base of my back. “To your sheer fucking beauty…”
Light, feathery touches dance up my spine. Goose bumps break out along my skin, though I don’t think he notices.
I don’t realize he’s inched me closer to him with each dance of anticipation along my body until I feel his arousal pressed against my thigh.
His fingers curl around my neck, the touch hard and soft and everything I never knew I wanted, particularly from him.
“I’m not blind, especially when it comes to you, Bucky.”
I watch as his mouth descends toward mine, and I do nothing to stop him.
“Oh, miss! That one is stunning! The young man has a good eye. He—”
The saleswoman pops up out of nowhere just before our mouths make contact.
Thank god.
“Oh my, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, Mr. Clark. I-I—”
Shep pulls away, unwinding his arm from around my back, and I miss his warmth more than I’ve ever missed anything in my entire life.
I take three healthy steps away from him, smoothing down the front of my unwrinkled dress, and try to get my breathing back to normal, refusing to look over at him for fear I’ll try to climb my way back into his arms.
Treacherous body.
“It’s fine, Annabelle.” He runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat. “We’ll take this one.”
“And all the ones in the room, too,” I add.
I don’t have to look at Shep to know he’s grinning victoriously.
I flip him the bird and he laughs.
Annabelle, unbothered by our antics, claps her hands together and says, “Splendid! I’ll get everything rung up.”
She disappears to the front of the shop again, leaving us drowning in the sexual tension.
Finally, after what feels like hours, I muster the courage to look at Shep.
He’s watching me, eyes still starving for me like I’m his prey, and I want to be caught so badly.
Before I do anything I’ll be sure to regret, I dart back into the dressing room, yanking the curtain closed between us.
He laughs, and for the first time in a long damn time, I hate Shepard Clark just a little bit less.
NINE
Six years ago, October
Shepard: I still can’t believe we pulled it off.
Denver: Dodged one hell of a bullet AND they’re both happy. We’re basically gods.
Shepard: Me, maybe. You, not so much.
Denver: You’re right—goddess.
Shepard: Of what? Nerds?
Denver: Shep…
Shepard: Kidding, kidding.
Shepard: I saw your photos from last night. I don’t think that dress was quite right for you.
Denver: Gee. Thanks so much.
Shepard: Don’t get me wrong, you still looked hot, but it wasn’t a perfect ten.
Denver: That doesn’t help.
Shepard: Fine, fine. I’d still bang you even in your horrible dress. Happy?
Denver: So happy.
Denver: ^That was sarcasm, just so we’re clear.
Shepard: I figured.
Shepard: How was your evening otherwise?
Denver: It was fine.
Shepard: Fine? Just fine? Did your date not wine and dine you?
Denver: She did not, which isn’t surprising considering it was my sister.
Shepard: You have a sister?
Denver: A twin sister.
Shepard: OMG. All my porn dreams are about to come true. HALLELUJAH!
Denver: You are disgusting and I question my sanity every single day when I realize I’m still texting with you.
Shepard: No you don’t. We’re friends now. Just face the facts.
Shepard: I didn’t know you were a twin. I feel like there’s so much I do and don’t know about you all at the same time.
Denver: That’s because you never ask. So self-absorbed.
Shepard: I can’t even argue with that.
Shepard: Fine. What’s her name? What do you want to be when you grow up? Where are you going to college? Name a place you want to travel.
Shepard: Look at me, asking questions and caring. I’m so proud of myself.
Denver: And just like that, we’re right back where we started—you being an arrogant jerk.
Shepard: Answers—let’s have ’em.
Denver: Fine. My sister’s name is Montana, but she goes by Monty, and—this will really blow your mind—I also have a younger brother named Charleston, Chuck for short.
Shepard: That’s…odd.
Denver: Coming from Shepard?
Shepard: Fair. Please continue.
Denver: I want to be a journalist.
Shepard: Really? You like writing?
Denver: I like giving the facts while voicing my opinion. It’s important.
Shepard: As an athlete, I agree. College aspirations?
Denver: Honestly? Anywhere that isn’t here. I kind of hate my home life. It’s not that there is anything inherently wrong with it, my parents take care of us just fine, but it’s…well, boring.
Denver: I’ll probably follow Allie to college.
Shepard: Where’s she going?
Denver: Take a wild guess.
Shepard: Wherever AJ is going.
Shepard: You do realize that’s here, right? We both got accepted on baseball scholarships.
Denver: No.
Shepard: Yep. Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, Denny.
Denver: I think I’m going to be sick.
Shepard: Be sick, dance around with excitement—totally the same thing.
Denver: Gag me.
Shepard: No thanks. I’m not into asphyxiation.
Denver: ANYWAY.
Denver: With how boring I find life here, you can imagine that I’d like to travel anywhere. Like, literally anywhere has to be better than here.
Shepard: I dunno…I hear Missouri is pretty damn boring too.
Denver: Fine, anywhere but Montana and Missouri. No states that start with M.
Shepard: I think you can swing that.
Denver: What about you?
Shepard: Baseball. It’s my life. It’s all that matters. As long as I’m playing, I don’t care where I’m at.
Denver: Even Missouri?
Shepard: Okay, maybe not Missouri.
Shepard: Oh, and since I asked you, I only have the one older sibling, Z
ach. He’s a genius and I admire the shit out of him.
Shepard: Total nerd though.
Denver: Is he hot?
Shepard: Watch it… I think he’s about to get engaged, actually, to his college sweetheart. I don’t really like her, but don’t tell either of them I said that.
Denver: It’s too late. I’ve uploaded that to the internets.
Shepard: I don’t think you even know how to make a status update, so I’m pretty sure my secret’s safe with you.
Denver: You’re not wrong.
Shepard: I just still can’t believe I didn’t know you were a twin this entire time. I could have been working on getting a threesome set up. So many missed opportunities.
Denver: Omg
Denver: No. We are not doing this. I’m going to bed.
Denver: Good night, Captain.
Shepard: I hope you have sweet dreams. I know I will. Night, Bucky.
Denver: Hate. You.
Denver: Found your Halloween costume!
Denver: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
Shepard: Holy shit. Hang on a sec.
Shepard: DOWNLOAD ATTACHMENT
Denver: NO. WAY!
Shepard: Yes! I bought it today. Was going to surprise you with it.
Shepard: And since I’m Captain America, you HAVE to dress up as Bucky. It’s the rules, Den.
Denver: No way.
Denver: How can I look cute dressed as Bucky Barnes?
Shepard: Just do it. It’ll be our own little thing.
Shepard: Pleeeeeeeease.
Denver: I’m sorry, are you trying to give me puppy dog eyes via text?
Shepard: Yes.
Shepard: Is it working?
Denver: Possibly.
Shepard: If you do it, I’ll be your best friend forever.
Denver: That feels more like a threat than a reward.
Shepard: That might be the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me, and you have said a LOT of rude things.
Denver: I am not rude!
Denver: I’m honest. There is a difference.
Shepard: True. It’s one of the things I love about you.
Denver: Ooooooh, love. Shepard Clark said love!
Denver: Told ya you were falling for me.
Shepard: I am not.
Denver: Bullshit.
Shepard: BULLSHIT bullshit.
Denver: BULLSHIT BULLSHIT bullshit.
Shepard: BULLSHIT Bu omg I don’t think I can keep this
Text Me Baby One More Time Page 6