“Yet accurate,” he says dryly, but his lips twitch with a smile.
Shaking my head, I say, “Fine. I won’t say no to a shower or food, but only because I respect your professional opinion.”
“You don’t respect anything,” he mutters, walking out of the room.
“I respect you.”
That almost makes him trip. Almost.
I bite back a laugh as warmth settles in my chest. I’m so glad I found him.
***
Debby watches me like I’m a science experiment while I eat, which is fair. I am putting away an alarming amount of food for someone who passed out less than an hour ago.
But I am also a 6’4” athlete and can eat a decent amount even on days I haven’t been getting my calories solely from a Temo protein powder.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asks for the third time.
“I’m great,” I say around a mouthful of something homemade and incredible. It’s my fifth plate so far.
She hums, but doesn’t stop watching me.
Colten leans against the counter, arms crossed, also watching me. It’s not in a judgmental way, but with a focus that feels…raw.
Like he’s cataloging every bite, every movement, and making sure I’m actually okay.
It makes my chest feel weird, and there’s a restless feeling buzzing under my skin despite still feeling exhausted.
I eat faster. I’m sure it’s just from the Temo protein powder chemicals that Colten warned me about when I first accepted it from Brian. I did drink a lot of it over the last three days.
After eating another two plates, I’m forced into the bathroom with a clean towel and change of clothes.
Stepping under the hot spray of the shower is likely the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Hot water, soap, and Colten’s fancy bergamot shampoo. All of these help finally wash away the three days of travel.
I stand there longer than I should, letting it hit the back of my neck and shoulders, simply enjoying the water and breathing in the scent I’m so familiar with.
It helps a lot. I feel much more like a person after I step out of the shower. The smell of Colten’s shampoo continues to surround me, comforting.
Colten also left me clothes, like the wonderful friend he is.
Unfortunately, our size difference is very, very apparent.
“I look like a slut,” I say, staring at myself in the mirror with horror.
The sweatpants technically fit if by “fit” you mean clinging to my thighs and dick like those spandex outfits girls wear all the time. It doesn’t help that his underwear didn’t fit, so there’s no barrier beyond the suffocating hug of his sweatpants.
Not to mention the shirt. It’s tight, like,reallytight. And short, which I know it isn’t on Colten. On me, it’s basically a crop top.
I turn sideways, where it’s even worse.
My pecs are straining against the shirt. I’ve seen sexy Halloween costumes less slutty than this. My dick is basically sticking out, and I’m not even hard.
It’s so over the top it’s ridiculous.
There’s a knock on the door. “You decent?”
