“Honestly, I insist. Which one do you want?” She blinks at me a few times. “You pick, or I will,” I tell her, and she swallows.
“Can you pick?” she asks.
Fuck.
I look through my choices, and with how hot it is, I grab a white t-shirt with a V-neck and the logo front and center. She smiles as I grab the shirt and take it to check out. Once I pay, I hand it to her.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“You’re welcome. Let’s get you changed and get some hot dogs and beers.” She nods and nudges my shoulder before heading to the bathroom to get changed.
When she emerges from the bathroom with a red bra clearly visible underneath her white t-shirt, I realize how exactly fucked I am. I’m not sure what’s worse, sitting next to her and having this knowledge or if I just would have sat next to Zach’s miserable ass.
8
WHITE T-SHIRTS AND RED BRAS
I don’t knowwhy I want to play with fire so bad. But I can’t help myself. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way.
Sure my ex, Sean, made me feel special and wanted, but I’ve realized now how early on that faded out. Our relationship was over before I caught him cheating, and I should have seen the signs way before I left him. We didn’t play as much as we used to and he stopped caring for me the way he did in the beginning—in the way I’d grown accustomed to. I’m not sure if I’ll ever have the dynamic I had with Sean, and it’s a concession I could make for the right person. But there are attributes in a man that I find compelling, and that are parallel with what I want romantically and sexually.
Deep down, I know that Aiden shouldn’t be that person for me. He’s my boss, and I’ve only just met him. But have you ever just felt so alone that any smidge of affection and human connection becomes nearly polarizing? I don’t know how to explain it, but Aiden does that for me.
The way he stood up for me against Zach had my heart racing, and not to mention all the tender moments we had last night. It doesn’t help that I slept in his shirt and went to sleep smelling like his clean laundry, or that he’s buying me things. I always feel like a bitch when I say gifts are my love language, but it is, and well, Aiden is doing it subconsciously.
Maybe I should have told him not to choose the white one, but I liked him choosing for me, and he did it effortlessly.
I know I’m stirring the pot, but I don’t care. This neediness within me isn’t going to just magically solve itself. I know myself well enough, what I need to feel completely whole. I wish I was the type of woman who didn’t care about men, and could live completely independently. But, that’s not who I am and all I want is for someone to take care of me. Maybe I’m latching on to what a genuinely nice person Aiden is, but it’s all I have right now, and as pathetic as that is, I’m going to hold on to the one good thing I have.
Even if it’s only a friendship, or even just flirting. I’ll take what I can get. Any friendship, kindness, or care I can soak up right now, I’m greedily taking it.
I immediately watch Aiden’s reaction, his pupils dilating and his throat bobbing as he takes in the tight-white shirt and the red of my bra deliberately shining through. I’ve noticed him looking at my legs twice today. I know that there’s some level of attraction on his end. And maybe I’m being devious, but is it so wrong to want an attractive man to look at you like you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen?
“Beers?” I ask as he blinks up at me.
“Uh, yeah. What do you like?” He glances at me one more time, and his eyes stick to my chest longer than any boss ever should. It lights a fire under me. I’ve felt hopeless and unwanted recently, and all I want is just a smidge of affection. I surely won’t deny it from this beautiful, attentive man.
“Maybe a seltzer?” He nods and we stand in line.
“What do you want on your dog?”
“Just ketchup.” He scoffs but smirks as we go up to the teller. Does he know how attractive it is that he asked me what I wanted and ordered it for me? Maybe Aiden is willing to play with fire just as much as I am.
He carries all of our food as we walk to our seats. I’m in awe at the dome top as we keep walking further and further down. When he takes a step in an aisle, we’re only four or five rows behind home plate.
“Something tells me that these are really good seats.”
“Basically the best seats you can get,” he says, sitting down. When I follow suit, he hands me my seltzer and hot dog.
“Is the cover thing on all the time?” I ask, pointing to the roof. He smirks and nods his head.
“It’s always seventy-two and sunny at Tropicana Field.” He looks around the stadium and I can’t help but feel that this place means more to him than he’s letting on.
He drinks his beer and eats his hotdog. “So where is everyone else in the office sitting?” I ask, and wonder if the game was paid for, why he felt he needed me to sit next to him.
“Up there,” he says, pointing to the left corner.
“Peasant section?” Aiden tilts his head back and laughs.
