NICK

Her room was decorated as though she was still twelve. Posters of Justin Timberlake and Rihanna hung above a small white, IKEA desk. Her white bedside table matched the princess headboard on the twin-size bed.

“Oh my god!” I laughed out loud.

“Isn’t it great? Like a time capsule to the mid-2000s. It seems a lifetime ago … but it’s … just half a lifetime. But you can see why I need new posters, now, right?” She rubbed Justin’s face and said, “Time for you to move along, Justin. There’s a new kid on the block.”

The way she looked at me. That same deep stare with those gray-green eyes that she gave Max. Damn. Did I give her those puppy dog eyes back? I had a bad feeling I had. I felt myself harden—and I don’t mean my pecs. I turned before she could notice. I hoped.

“Um,” I said catching my breath, “should we go back downstairs to do this silly photo thing? I’m not sure I’m Timberlake quality, but I am more age appropriate.” I took two steps out of her small bedroom.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Sophie grabbed the back of my t-shirt and tugged me hard backwards. I stumbled and hit my shin on the corner of her bed.

“Son of a bitch! Ow!” I spun and sat on her bed, exposing the fully erected tent in my chinos.

No doubt Sophie saw. She bit her bottom lip, her nostrils flared as her chest rose. I couldn’t take my eyes off the Lily Valley logo over her left breast and her eyes were not moving from the demonstration of my appreciation of the way she filled in her department issue casual wear. I covered my crotch with my hands.

“Nothing to see here.”

“You’re blushing,” she said, once she had no reason to be staring at my zipper.

“Yeah, well, when I was twelve Rihanna was one of my go to’s, if you know what I mean,” I tried to deflect, not sure why. If she wanted me, I’d love to bite her bottom lip. Kiss her bottom lips. But she was drunk. And she was going to hate me in the morning or as soon as she found out that I was her enemy number one. As much as I wanted to try to win her over before she found out she needed to find any reason to like me, this was not the way.

“You wanted a photo. That’s what I’m here for.” I pulled off my t-shirt and flexed my pecs, left then right. She made a little squeal and did a silly happy dance. She was sexy in a way that said, I have no idea how sexy I am.

“I have to get my phone,” she said running downstairs to the front door where we’d dropped our coats.

I took the opportunity to think about prostate exams and nail fungus. Anything to move the blood away from my cock, back to my limbs. I flexed my biceps to warm them up.

Sophie yelled up the stairs, “Oh no! I forgot my phone at the bar!”

That’s when I remembered I’d pocketed it to protect myself from her learning the first name of the new bastard chief.

“Dammit!” I yelled back. “Don’t worry, I’ll swing by and pick it up. But let’s get these photos taken. We can use my phone.”