Page 125 of Pucking Matt
I dry my face and arms with the towel. “How much time do we have until we meet your mom for lunch?”
He steps out and grabs his phone. “An hour.”
I step out of the tub, soaking the floor. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my hair is wet and so are my clothes, but I don’t look bad.
“Hi, is there a washer and dryer here?” Matt says into the hotel phone, looking over at me as I walk around the corner. “Thanks.”
I steal a glance at his back muscles as I walk to my bag. I grab it as he says, “I’ll put our clothes in the dryer. Here.” He throws me his hoodie. “Boyfriend material.” He shakes his head. “I mean the material is thick.” He turns to his bag, leaving me with a smirk. He’s cute when he flirts.
I take my bag and his hoodie to the bathroom and shut the door. I peel off my wet clothes, bra included, and I force my clothes into a ball. I put on his hoodie with nothing underneath, my pajama shorts, and new underwear. Luckily, I packed a week’s worth just in case, so I shove my wet underwear in a random pocket of my bag.
I walk out and hand him my wet clothes. “Thank you.”
He nods, already dressed. I frown when I see he’s fully clothed. “I’ll be right back.”
“You’re just leaving our stuff in the dryer?” I ask. “And coming back?”
He nods. “Yep.”
“Okay.”
“Open the door when I get back,” he says, walking to exit the room. “Is your bra in here?”
I nod. “Yeah, please don’t let it fall out.”
He looks down at his hoodie and then back to my face. “Okay.”
When he leaves, I exhale. Thank God he was willing to do this because I only brought a few outfits. One for the wedding, one for sleep, and one for tomorrow. I didn’t think of packing anything extra in case of accidents.
Right now I am fangirling over that wet shirt he pulled off in the shower. I can’t believe that happened. It was straight out of a movie. And then the way he looked at me right after. It was like he was hoping that I was looking. And wow, did my eyes enjoy the view. Probably a bit too much because that was attractive. But he’s Matthew Pearson: tall, beautiful, perfect smile, pretty eyes. Who wouldn’t be attracted to him?
It feels like I looked at my phone for a minute when there’s a knock at the door. I tiptoe to it and look through the peephole. He knocks again.
I use the best old lady voice I can. “Who’s there?”
“Amber,” he says like he has no patience, but I know he loves me for it.
“Who are you, young man?”
He sighs, and I hold in my chuckle.
“Open up,” he demands.
I break character as I say, “What’s the password?”
“You have a black lace bra.”
I scoff, my jaw dropping to the ground. He didnotlook at my bra!
“Say, knock, knock,” I demand.
“Knock, knock,” he says while knocking on the door.
“Who’s there?” I say and then I shake my head.
“Your best friend.”
“Eh! Wrong!” I open the door, facing him with a scowl. “You freaking pervert! You looked at my bra!”
