“Are you calling me from the bathroom?”
“Yeah, I need your shirt.”
“What?”
“Your shirt. Go into the men’s room, take off your shirt, knock on the women’s door, and I’ll get it.”
“Umm…”
“It’s an emergency.”
“Fine,” he sighs and hangs up, a knock on the door sounding a couple of minutes later.
“Do I even want to know?” he asks but I just smile, leaning out to press my lips to his.
“Later.” Winking, I close the door and lock it and turn back to my new friend. “Okay, ready?”
“I guess…” she says hesitantly.
Whipping off my coat, I set it on the vanity, thankful it’s cold enough that I opted for a long one for our outing. Because even though Royce’s shirt will cover my ass, it won’t cover much else. I pull my shirt over my head and shove it into my purse, replacing it with Royce’s before shimmying out of my skirt.
“Here,” I say. handing it to her with a smile.
Her eyes well with tears and she rushes forward to wrap me in a hug. “Oh my gosh, thank you,” she gushes before hustling into the stall and changing. When she emerges, she’s beaming, the skirt a little big but barely noticeable with her cropped black jacket and tank top.
“You look amazing,” I tell her honestly as she shoves her jeans in the garbage.
“It’s a good thing I shaved my legs today, right?” she says, her cheeks flushed, and I wink.
“Definitely.”
“Seriously.” Her shoulders fall as her eyelids flutter shut for the briefest of seconds before she meets my gaze. “Thank you. Dating sucks and I just really wanted today to go well.” She looks down. “How am I going to get you the skirt back? Here, I have cash.” She starts digging through her purse before I place my hand on her forearm.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, looking down at my tights, knee-high black boots, and Royce’s shirt. “Go and have the best date of many to come. My boyfriend will have nothing but good things to say about my wardrobe change.”
I turn and check out my ass in the mirror. The shirt is long enough to cover me but not by much. Grabbing my jacket, I throw it on, thankful I’d picked the longer pea coat for our walk to the coffee shop.
ROYCE
I’ve commandeereda table in the corner with a direct line of sight to the bathroom. It feels creepy, but I’ve never been in a situation where I had toliterallygive someone my shirt, and I’m thankful I’d opted for a sweatshirt to go over it.
A pretty woman exits the bathroom first, her eyes bright and her smile full as she looks past me toward the guy hovering near the entrance. I can see them embrace in the reflection of the window.
“Beautiful Things” by Benson Boone plays quietly over the speakers, and time seems to slow to a crawl as Kinsley walks toward me.
Holy shit.
Her coat fans out away from her body, her black boots, tights, and my shirt on full display—her skirt absent. I do a double take at the woman who exited the bathroom before her, confirming the item had apparently changed hands in the last fifteen minutes.
Standing, I catch Kinsley around the waist, brushing my lips along her cheek before whispering in her ear, “I like the way you look in my shirt.”
“I thought you might,” she murmurs, her fingertips dipping under my sweatshirt and trailing along my bare skin.
“That was some emergency.”
“Second dates areveryserious.”
“I’ll make a note of it,” I tease and then grunt as she digs her nails into my side, pulling me until I’m pressed against her. “What date are we on?”
