Page 24

I tugged the sweatpants on, grimacing at the feel of the material against my bare skin down there. I hated going without underwear, but given the situation, I was just happy not to be in the curtain any longer. The shirt came next, doing nothing to hide my nipples from showing through the material. While I wasn’t a big-chested woman, I still had the pointy devils that let themselves known at the worst possible times.
A knock sounded on the door, but it wasn’t the same pound that came from Dash’s fist. “Come in.”
Lee poked her head inside, then came walking in wearing only a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. I glanced down at myself, feeling like a bag lady in comparison. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
“It’s what Dash gave me.”
“Huh,” she said, looking me up and down. “Guess he’s not that into you.”
“You think?”
“Brock gave this to me. I think he was trying to stake his claim by shoving me in his boxers. They’re actually quite comfortable, which is good considering I could still bite the dust at any moment.”
“What would you possibly die from now?”
“A thief? They do have a couch stuffed in their doorway. Do we really believe that they left it there because of the sirens?”
“Why would they lie about that?” I asked, putting my foot on the bed to cuff the pants.
“They’re men. I think that answers the question.”
I sighed, looking down at myself again. “Do you really think he doesn’t like me like that? Because I got the feeling that he was…turned on by me in the shower curtain.”
She shook her head. “No man hands a woman sweatpants when he’s interested in her. Sorry, but I’m afraid this has friend-zone written all over it.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the phrase. There was nothing worse than being interested in a guy only to be relegated to the friend-zone. But she was right, the sweatpants weren’t exactly a ringing endorsement for his affection.
“What am I supposed to do down there? Now I feel all weird. I mean, he’s seen me naked.”
“Just act like you would around Andrew.”
“But Andrew’s my friend.”
“Right, so if he just wants to be friends, show him you can be friends. It’ll make the whole situation less weird. Just be one of the guys.”
One of the guys. I could do that. They basically sat around drinking beer and burping. What was so hard about that?
She stood and walked to the door with her shoulders slumped. “I suppose now we have to go downstairs and pretend to be happy as if we didn’t just miss our chance to end this measly existence.”
“I’m not sure anyone expects us to be happy.”
“I can work with that.”
She opened the door and walked out without another word. Me? I needed a few minutes to build up the right attitude. If I went downthere and was all flirty, he’d just get pissed at me. Or maybe he’d kick me out of the house and make me go find a shelter to sleep in.
That was probably a little drastic. It was highly unlikely he’d do something like that to me. But still, I had to put on my mask of indifference. There were rules to follow when in the friend-zone.
1) No touching of any kind.
2) If jokes were made about how he found me, I had to laugh along like one of the guys.
3) Absolutely no ogling.
I wasn’t entirely sure those were rules, but they were the ones I made up for myself. Oh, and the final and most important rule: No thinking about kissing him. Or running my hands over his body. Or thinking about what he was like in bed.
Basically, I had to look at him like my brother. I could do this. I got this. I headed downstairs, trying to go for the cool and classic air of nonchalance.
And it would have worked so well if I hadn’t tripped on the last stair and fell sideways, twisting my ankle. I cried out, catching myself on my hands as everyone came rushing over to me. Dash hovered over me, twisting my head until he could look into my eyes.