Page 27 of The Midseason Fakeout

“Ha,” he cackles. He sits back on my bed and gets comfortable. “Don’t you think it’ll look weird if I leave your room for you to get dressed? Your brother will think something is up.”

“Now you’re making shit up so you can tease me.”

“Changing in front of a dude is just another experience you need to add to your list.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Still not leaving,” he sing-songs as I grab the outfit off my bed and turn my back. I take a quick peek down my robe and almost die in horror when I realize how much cleavage I was showing. Luckily, the bra and panties I’m wearing will go with the outfit he chose.

“Fine,” I grumble. He has a point after all. From under my robe, I start pulling on the leggings.

“Boring,” Aidan deadpans from the bed.

“Horndog,” I throw back.

He laughs. “Who knew what a prude my fake girlfriend could be?”

I look over my shoulder, shushing him. “My brother could be listening.”

“Should we make the bed creak, then?” He shifts his hips, and the full-sized bed hits the wall with athunk.

I spin, nearly tripping over my feet. “Aidan!”

He gets a big smile on his face. “Fine, I’ll stop.”

I blow out a breath and turn again. Picking the blue top off the floor, I try to figure out a way to keep myself covered while putting it on, but as soon as I pull my arms out of the robe’s sleeves, the material is so slippery it just wants to fall right off me.

The worst part is, I know I’m the one being ridiculous. This should be no big deal. Aidan has made a point to say he’s not interested in me, and I’m trying not to be interested in him either. We have a good thing going here for the both of us, and I shouldn’t ruin it.

With a huff, I free my arms, and the robe immediately slides down my body and hits the floor. My back is exposed, and I picture what he’s looking at: my pale skin against the stark black bra. He’s probably picking out imperfections.

Quickly, I place the shirt over my head and tug it on.

The fabric hugs my chest like a glove, flaring out a little at the hips. I move to stand in front of the floor-length mirror, avoiding Aidan’s gaze to make sure the halter-style shirt lies perfectly.

His form comes up behind me until he nearly engulfs me. I stare at his eyes through the mirror while he peruses my body, tracing the line of my bra strap. “I think you need a different bra.”

I shake my head. “The straps come off.” Pulling my shirt away, I unclip the right bra strap and go to reach awkwardly to get the back, but Aidan stays my hands.

“I can do it.”

He rolls the top of my shirt down just enough to expose the plastic clip that holds the strap to the main band. He unclasps it and then reaches for the other side as I catch up with him. Then he rolls my top back up, his fingertips lingering on my bare skin.

Goose bumps sprout all over.

“You cold?” I shake my head. The tension in the room has upped by a hundred fifty percent, and it feels like the slightest movement could prompt us off-kilter. Suddenly, he peers up, meeting my gaze. “You look beautiful.”

“Promise?”

“I’m your fake boyfriend. I wouldn’t lie.”

We hold one another’s gaze for a beat longer before we both laugh. “That’s kind of an oxymoron.”

Grinning, he takes a step back, breaking the spell even more. “I think you look perfect for your first college party.”

“As long as I look decent enough to keep the other girls off you.”

“It’s working well enough so far. No girls showing up wearing nothing but robes at my door.”

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