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I attempt to snatch them out of his fist, but he pulls them away, taunting me.
Groaning in frustration, I say, “I suppose I should buy cotton pairs.”
He shrugs. “Cotton, satin, lace. None of that matters when they’re lying crumpled on the floor.”
Heat swamps my face. I grab for my panties again and successfully get a grip. “I think you’re forgetting this isn’t real.”
He lets the panties go, and I sigh in relief. At least they were clean. Yes, I did have to look up how to use the washing machine, but I did it. I successfully washed my first load of laundry. Darrin’s dirty clothes are probably still in a pile in his room.
“I haven’t, but what if someone asks me a question about the type of underwear you like? I should know these things. Mine is boxer briefs, by the way.”
“Who’s going to ask us that?”
He shrugs. “Cosmo. Sports Illustrated.”
I turn away, throwing the lace panties into my closet. “Yeah, I’m sure we’re at the top of their list of couples to interview.”
“Not yet.”
How long does he think this charade is going to last? My parents will probably only give me until the end of the semester, tops. If I’m lucky, it’ll be the end of the year.
Aidan flops down on my bed. “So, are we nervous about our first big party?”
I groan internally. He couldn’t have said anything worse to me at this exact moment. I blow out a breath. “I… I don’t know what to wear.”
He doesn’t answer, so I peer over at him to find his gaze scanning my body. “That looks nice.”
I resist the urge to find something else to throw at him because with my luck, it would probably be a bra next. I might as well throw him my birth control just to get every embarrassing thing out of the way while we’re at it. “Please be serious. You’re the quarterback. The big man on campus. I should wear something that, you know, people would expect. You know, since I’m your girlfriend.”
I examine his outfit: a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that hugs his biceps. The shirt has a simple collar and is a plain dark-blue color that brings out the blue in his eyes. He looks gorgeous without even trying.
“Wear what you want.”
I give him a look. “Completely unhelpful. I guess we really are dating.”
He chuckles and gets to his feet. Soon, he’s behind me as I stare into the closet again. He looms over me, and my entire backside tingles with his electric current. “I’ll have you know, I’m a very helpful boyfriend.”
“Should I ask for references?”
His breath hits my ear, making me shiver. “No, because I’m going to show you.” He sidesteps me and starts looking at my closet. Going through my clothes, he hums to himself, his agile fingers reaching for and dismissing hangers with precision until he’s brought out two pieces and laid them on the bed.
Well… That was easy. These are probably…
I peer at the outfit he put together and immediately think I should turn in my girl card.
“How did you do that?” I snap, tracing my fingers over the soft material of the shirt he’s chosen. It’s a royal-blue A-line top that I usually wear with a shrug, but it goes perfectly with the black leggings he’s brought out with it.
“I look at girls a lot.” He smirks, casting an embarrassed glance my way. “If you pair that with a dressy shoe, you’ll fit right in. Nothing that’ll hurt your feet. I plan on dancing with you again to show you the epitome of first college party experiences. By the way, every girl should dance with the quarterback of their school’s football team. But also, don’t wear sneakers. You’ll ruin the vibe.”
“College quarterback waylaying as a fashionista. Or is that fashionisto?”
“I have The Style Network like everyone else, and please, don’t use those fancy prep school terms with me. I’m in touch with my feminine side. Fashionista is fine.”
I can’t help but shake my head. I used to sit back and listen to his conversations with my brother. The way they would tease and play off each other always made me laugh, and here I am doing it with him. I understand what they mean by verbal sparring now.
It’s fun.
“Sure, fashionista, now get lost so I can dress.”