Page 15 of The Cupcake Standard

Good question. “You pull up, and I shimmy down?” I lifted my arms while Derek tried to find a good handhold, finally settling on the hem of the dress. I counted then dipped while he yanked it over my head, the dress flying off. “Nice. Thanks.”

He stared at me.

I glanced down at my lacy one-piece bodysuit. Everything seemed to be in place. Realizing I still had on my heels, I bent to slip them off, and Derek let out a strangled noise that had me glancing at him in concern.

“I’m just…going to go check on the guys.” And he rushed out of the door.

I dug around in my drawers wondering who had put everything away because it was nowhere near how I would have done it. Finally, I found my Lions jersey, a vintage one of Barry Sanders’ that used to be my dad’s. I paired it with yoga pants, fuzzy socks and a ponytail, then tamed down the makeup on my face before making my entrance once more.

Derek was the only one who noticed, looking up from the oversized armchair to nod at the space beside him. I perched on the arm for the time being. My eyes were drawn to the coffee table, bowing under the weight of an incredible spread of pizza, chips, pretzels, dips, wings.

“I’m starving.” I touched my chin to make sure I wasn’t drooling.

Concern crossed his face. “You think you can eat any of that?”

“Any of it?” I looked at him, affronted. “I could eat all of it!”

He chuckled. “Help yourself.”

So I did, ducking and weaving and trying to stay out of the guys’ view of the TV. Except Kevin, of course. I blocked his a little more than necessary.

“Nice jersey.”

One of the guys gave me a thumbs-up while another threw a cheese puff at me and booed. The second guy was beefy and muscular, with short, cropped hair and stubbly cheeks. I immediately thought of Gina. He was the very definition of her normal type. Although he wore green and yellow Packers gear, so I hissed at him. Then we grinned at each other before I went to sit with Derek. When I perched on the arm again, Derek gave my shirt a couple tugs until I capitulated, sliding into the space beside him.

“Who’s the jerk?” My curves fit perfectly against his lean, narrow body. Two puzzle pieces filling in each other’s gaps.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” He smirked, letting me know he was teasing.

I snorted. “The one in Packers gear.”

“Oh, that’s Liam. He hates the Lions, owns every jersey except theirs.” Derek absent-mindedly stole a chip off my plate. “He’s also my best friend.”

My eyes shot to the beefy guy in the green, sizing him up. I took in his muscles, the banded tattoo on his right biceps, his easy smile. The way he laughed when he was teased. How he’d thrown a cheese puff at me and grinned when I’d hissed. Liam could be all right. He caught me staring, giving me a pensive look of his own.

The game was close, with good, clean calls by the refs. I cheered and yelled with the rest of them, garnering surprised looks when I knew my terms. “Yeah, that’s right. Gold diggers can watch football, too.” I couldn’t help sticking my tongue out at Kevin.

Derek slung an arm over my shoulder, and I cuddled against his warm side, resting my head in the crook of his neck as if it had been made for me. The Lions managed to eke out a win with a field goal in the last seven seconds, much to Liam’s dismay. My victory dance may have dismayed him more.

The guys trickled out, leaving the apartment a quiet mess. Then Derek and I were alone.

“So, how you doing?” He aimed the remote at the screen and shut it off.

I began gathering up leftovers. “Good. The food was amazing, didn’t bother me a bit. My sides are still a bit sore if I move just wrong, but otherwise, I think I’m fine.”

He grabbed some containers to put food in, packing it up as I brought it over. “I never would have pegged you for a football fan.”

With a sideways glance at him, I sniffed in a haughty manner. “I never would have thought you were one either.”

“Touché.” He snapped the lid down on the container with the pizza. “Want to hang out, chill for a bit?”

“Actually, I should look over my email and start catching up on schoolwork.” Ugh.

His eyebrows crinkled together. “Didn’t Gina say you don’t have class on Fridays?”

“Yeah…” He remembers my schedule?

“So, want to rest tonight? Watch a movie or something, tackle your stuff tomorrow?”

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