“You don’t need to caption it anything. I think the moment speaks for itself.” His dark gaze skimmed my face instead of the screen.
God, why was he looking at me? Was publishing that clip part of some weird scheme to embarrass me?
“I’ll decide later.” I fought the warmth in my cheeks and cut up the footage for both the hot panning clip with a heart emoji and my off-kilter singing before shoving my phone away.
“So, is this where you normally bring your girlfriends? The dungeon?” I asked.
“It’s a basement,” he chided.
“Where did you hang out? The bed? This couch?” I cringed at the idea of this being the spot he lost his virginity with some pretty, popular girl from high school.
“I didn’t bring anyone down here except my friends,” he said. “Close friends.”
“No…benefits?” I leaned into his warm, solid body.
He shifted toward me but looked away. “I didn’t have a girlfriend until college.”
“How is that possible?”
He rubbed his red ears. “I don’t know. I was busy.”
Right. Quarterback. Always at practice. Still, he was grumpy and hot, or at the very least, buff. Girls must’ve thrown themselves in his path at some point. Maybe prom. I hadn’t gone, so I wasn’t sure of the particulars.
“Was your family happy when you were dating that college girl?” I asked.
He frowned and played with the knot of my half-up hair. “No. Maybe when we started, but she…wanted a quarterback, I guess.”
Did that girl dump him when he got injured? I laid a hand on his knee. “She’s an idiot.”
“Nah, I get where she was coming from. She wanted to be taken care of. Not take care of me.” He sighed.
So what if he wasn’t on a team? He still had a lot to offer somebody.
I huffed and nudged his chest. “Well, good riddance. You need a woman who can take care of herself. Not some leech.”
“It’s fine. I know I’m not what someone like that would need," he muttered.
“You’re kind. You’re strong. You're hard-working, and occasionally funny,” I declared.
He snorted, then smiled. “I work three jobs. That doesn’t scream ‘stable.’”
“So what? You’re a hustler. That's better than some deadbeat. Plus, you still make time for everybody. Your band, your family, friends, and fake girlfriends.” I play-punched his meaty arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’re better off with people who can be on our level.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He dragged his fingers up and down my shoulder with the idle fascination I used to play with sequined pillows. His calloused fingertips caressed my silky skin. “Were all your boyfriends into aesthetics like Theo?” he asked.
My thighs tightened. Did clients count? “He…he was my only real boyfriend.”
“How is that possible?” he teased, quoting me.
“I was shy in school. College kind of got me out of my shell, same with sales. I talk to guys a lot, you know, at least for work.”
“I know.” He nodded.
No, he didn’t know. But I wasn’t ready for that conversation. “Theo was the first one who encouraged me to follow my dreams. He was chasing his too, and I think we got swept up in this fantasy. We stopped caring about each other’s feelings. To be honest, I’m not sure anybody will ever like more than a few parts of me,” I admitted, flexing my toes.
“You’ve got lots of good parts,” Zack said softly.
I raised my brows and eyed him. “Oh?”
