When I get home, Emily gives me shit for rocking up in his T-shirt. Shame on her. But me staying in it as we get high and I eat our body weight in ice cream? Shame on me.
It gives her the ammunition she needs to make inferences that I have to deny for weeks.He did a number on you, Ash.
He did no such thing.
I watch as Xander pulls the T-shirt off the rack—the exact fucking T-shirt I stole; does he know?—and holds it up against my body. It’s oversized. Just like his original.
“It’s perfect,” he says, before walking toward the cash register. I trail behind him. Oh, he definitely knows. But if he’s not going to bring it up, neither will I.
“Are you alumni?” The undergrad at the register asks before blushing as Xander throws her his best charming smile.
“Sure am,” he says, his curls curling hard. “Want to look me up?”
“No, you’re good,” she says, through a nervous laugh. Of course he’s good. After purchasing his T-shirt with a 10 percent discount, we head out the doors toward Wilson Plaza. With every step, I can’t help but see the T-shirt swinging in the clear plastic bag. It taunts me.
“Why did we come here?” I say, opting to converse with an actual human being and not an inanimate object.
“It’s where I met you,” he says like it’s obvious. Then he gives me a half smile. “And since you never really gave me a chance to get to know you then, I figured I’d take you back to the beginning for a do-over.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get a front-row seat of my upbringing at the wedding,” I say, sucking the air between my teeth. “Get ready to cringe.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but the delivery is sharp around the edges.
“Hey.” Xander gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be a great date. Promise. I can’t salsa for shit, but I’m not a bad slow dancer usually.”
“Just no ditching me for a hot bridesmaid,” I say.
“I would never,” Xander says, shocked that I’d suggest he go against the plus one code. I stare at him a moment. “Hey, remember. I’m not one of your Bone It hookups. I got your back.”
And this time, I actually believe him.
“In that case, I feel the need to confess,” I say, slowing down until Xander stops walking and turns to face me, giving me his undivided attention.
“I stole your T-shirt that night,” I say, tilting my chin to the bag. “I’m sorry.”
A wide smirk spreads across Xander’s face before he hands the bag over to me. “I figured you’d need a replacement after eleven years.”
“You knew?” I say, reaching into the bag and running my hand over the soft cotton. Just like I remembered.
“The entire time,” he says. He knew and he never once used it against me when he had multiple opportunities since the sleep study began. Because he is not like the others. And I know it.
I take the T-shirt out of the bag and throw it on over my tank top.
“How do I look?” I say, my eyes drifting up to meet his big hazel ones.
“You’re incredible,” he says, exactly like he did all those years ago. The tone of his voice is low and slow. And I know this is an important moment. A defining moment.
Because it’s the moment I realize …
I like Xander Miller.
I like him a fuckinglot.
I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at him, but Xander finally says, “Are you having a stroke?”
And yeah. Maybe I am.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I was supposed to be making Xander breakfast at my apartment. My way of apologizing, albeit eleven years too late. Or it’s my way of congratulating him, for the five hours of sleep he got at the study last night. I haven’t decided yet. But it doesn’t matter.
