Page 19 of Jingl
I push to my feet and grab my phone from the floor on my side of the bed. “I’ll see if Mom can bring me clothes.” I shoot off the quick text and get a thumbs up from her with an underwear emoji. Maybe I die a little on the inside when I realize my mom will be going through my underwear drawer.
“It’s no trouble, besides you probably don’t want to stay in the same underwear.”
“How did you know that’s what I was thinking about?”
“We’ve known each other a long, long, long time, Shae. I know things.” Trace winks and I want to melt and crawl away at the same time.
“I can’t wearyours,though. It’d be weird.” Too intimate. “Besides, I have a much fuller butt than you do.”
“Do you?” Trace turns around and twerks. “I’ve been hitting the gym to grow the peach. I’m getting there. Nowhere as nice as yours, though.”
I choke on air when he doesn’t stop shaking his bottom.
“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry. Learned how to do that. College was pretty educational on several fronts. Anyway, let’s get ready. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about everything after breakfast.”
I follow him to his bedroom and when he flips on the light, I take it all in. A huge bed has been stripped of its bedding. There’s a nightstand with a silver lamp that has charging ports. Three tall bookshelves filled with all his fiction, ranging from mystery, and sci-fi, to manga to fantasy, to romance. He reads everything while my heart wants, at the very least, a romantic subplot. There are thick blackout curtains over his window. The closet door’s closed, but he’s rummaging through the four drawer dresser shoved against one of the bookshelves.
I look at the ceiling and smile.
“You put the stars up.”
“Of course. We’ve had stars on our ceiling our entire lives. Why would I stop now?”
When we turned six, we each got a set of glow-in-the-dark stars. Trace had bunk beds in his room and we spent a long time deciding how to arrange the stars so we could look at them when we slept on the top bunk. His dad bought us each several more sets so we could fill both of our entire ceilings with made up constellations. My stars still glow every night, and every night I look up and think of Trace.
“I remember your dad up on a ladder in my room and us directing him where we wanted each star.”
“He was so damn patient.” Trace laughs. “He’sfinallyretiring from the Navy in the new year.”
“I remember. You’ll have to go home to celebrate.”
“Iamhome, Shae. Frostdale has always been home. But I do have enough money saved to go celebrate with him when the time comes. Knowing him, he’ll keep putting it off until Mom gets on him.” Trace flashes me a smile. “Okay, go put these on.” He hands me socks, a pair of jeans, and boxer briefs before strolling to his closet to grab a couple of fresh t-shirts.
When I open my mouth to protest his underwear, he holds up a hand.
“It’s fine. Go dress and we’ll head out.”
I clutch the clothes to my chest and beeline it to the bathroom.
There’s a bit of water on the counter, so I wipe it up before setting Trace’s clothes down.
Then stare at myself in the mirror. Holy hell, did I even sleep? There are dark circles under my eyes andeweye crusties and a bit of dried drool on the corner of my mouth. Not cute at all. I turn on the water and scrub my face. Then freshen up a few other bits. When I pat myself dry, it’s time to dress and I glare at the boxer briefs.
I can go commando, but that’s always uncomfortable in jeans. So I suck it up and slide the briefs on and up. The light blue looks good against my pale skin, but it is so sosoweird wearing Trace’s underwear.
“Don’t think about it,” I whisper to myself and finish dressing. But these briefs have caressed the very parts of my best friendI’dlike to caress.
I finger brush my teeth real quick and swish with water to hopefully get rid of morning breath. And finally rake some water through my thick blond hair to tame the bedhead.
Do I look better? That’s debatable, but we’re going to breakfast with our moms. I don’t have to look like I’m going to an interview.
“Next,” I say as I pull open the door. The apartment is suspiciously quiet.
“Mom and Wendy headed out. I told them we’ll be right behind them.” Trace is already dressed, and he’s not in the bathroom long. He comes out looking refreshed and bright-eyed. “I’m driving!” Trace grabs my hand and we race to his car.
My heart pounds so hard. What in the ever loving, sparkly hell is happening?
Chapter 10
