Page 90 of The Charade

He shut his bedroom door and finally noticed me when he started walking down the hall in my direction.

"Oh h-hi," he said, startling a little as he took in my appearance, apparently not expecting to see me this early for the party.

"Hi," I said, tucking some hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling shy after not seeing much of him this week.

"Hi," he said again. But then, after staring blankly at me for a second, he gave his head a quick shake and said, "I was just going to ask Cambrielle which tie she thought would look better for tonight. But since you're here…" He held up the ties in his hands, the opening in his dress shirt widening with the movement and revealing enough of his muscular chest to distract me for a second. "M-maybe you could help instead since you have such an eye for fashion."

"Sure." I set my dress bag and shoes on the floor. "I-I can try to help."

He stepped closer, and only when he noticed my gaze raking in his exposed, tanned chest did he seem to realize that he'd left his room without buttoning his shirt.

"Sorry," he said, his cheeks flushing as he looked down at his all-too-defined eight-pack abs. "I forgot what I looked like."

"I-it’s okay," I said, meeting his gaze through my lashes. And before I could stop myself, I added, "Your hands are full. Do you want me help you with that?"

"With my shirt?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly higher than it usually did.

I nodded. "Yeah."

I was probably a glutton for punishment for wanting an excuse to stand close to Carter for a few seconds even though he'd been avoiding me all week, but my body craved his nearness.

Craved the chance to touch him for even just a few seconds, especially since he'd been hugging the other end of the table in our math class all week.

And buttoning his shirt was innocent enough, right?

He'd been about to go to Cambrielle for help, hadn't he? So me helping him with this couldn't be too taboo, could it?

Not that it would make me not want to do it if it was.

I stepped closer, close enough that I caught a faint whiff of his familiar cologne, and started buttoning his shirt from the bottom.

My hands shook slightly as I took the freshly pressed cotton in my fingers, my stomach fluttering with butterflies as I breathed him in. But I managed to slowly button each one on my way up, my fingers only grazing across his warm skin and making his stomach muscles twitch a few times.

"Thanks for your help in making me more appropriate," he whispered into my hair, leaning closer as I worked on the button at the top of his collar.

Goosebumps raced across my skin from the warmth of his breath, but I forced my expression to remain neutral as I met his blue-eyed gaze. "Of course."

The button hooked through the hole at the top easily, and even though I wanted to smooth my hands down his chest, wanted to have an excuse to touch him longer, I forced myself to take a step back, clasping my hands behind me for good measure.

He studied my face for a moment, probably noting the flush of my cheeks, the shyness of my gaze, and every other physical sign of my attraction for him. But then, seeming to remember that we weren't supposed to notice things like that about each other anymore, he cleared his throat. He held the two ties up again and asked in a soft voice, "Which one do you think I should wear tonight?"

I studied the ties, comparing the two colors against his skin tone and eyes. The navy blue would look nice, very professional and appropriate for any occasion. But since I liked a little pop of color and the pink actually looked really good next to his tan skin, I said, "I’d go with the pink if I were you."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"That's my favorite, anyway. But if you like the blue better it would look great, too."

"Pink is good," he said.

And as if to show that the decision was made, he looped the pink tie around his neck.

I bent down to pick up my things on the floor, deciding I should probably go to Cambrielle's room now even though all I wanted to do was find a reason to stay and talk to Carter since this was the longest we'd been alone in what seemed like forever.

I wanted to ask him why he'd been treating me like a pariah all week. Why he'd skipped out on our tutoring session when I still needed his help.

"Is that the dress you were talking about?" Carter pointed to the dress bag when I looped it over my arm.

I looked at the black bag, remembering how I'd teased him just a few days ago about how high the slit hit on my thigh. "This is it." My cheeks burned a little because there was still a huge part of me that hoped Carter would like how I looked in it tonight.

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