Page 74 of Call Me Sir

“That works.”

“Yeah, as long as you dress casually too.”

“What’s casual to you?”

“Not whatever that is,” he says, gesturing to my normal office attire.

Oh boy.

“What? You want me to dress like I’m about to go play golf with the boys?”

The bright smile that lights his face does something weird to my chest.

“Fine,” I agree, because how the hell can I say no to him when he’s looking at me like that?

We finish dinner and I offer to wash the dishes while he heads back to his room.

I’m concerned as I hear things slapping the wall and a shoe or too comes flying from his room.

Is it really that difficult for him to pick out something to wear?

The mental question is asked by a frustrated huff from him.

After drying my hands, I make my way through the random shit strewn about in the hallway into his room.

He sits in the middle of a muss, face red and only in his plaid boxers.

Before I can think to object, he lays back and stares at the ceiling.

“It’s that hard, huh?”

Cole sighs again and I can’t help but watch the rising and falling of his chest. He looks so small. I fight the urge to leave the doorway and grab him.

“Do you have the gray pants you mentioned?” I ask, averting my gaze from his pebbled nipples in my view until I see him sit up in my peripheral view.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

Tearing something from underneath him, he chucks pants right at me and I catch the pants.

Inspecting them, I have to agree, they’re nothing dazzling, but I don’t care.

“These work.”

Lifting hangers and lowering them, eventually he settles on a black button up shirt with neon flamingos.

“Yeah?”

No! My insides scream.

His devilish grin gives me a breathe of relief.

“Obvisouly I’m not wearing neon flamingos to your dads house, Sal. You’re dad seems cool but not that cool.”

Now would be the perfect time to tell him my father is a piece of shit.

The moment passes and he resumes lifting shirts and chucking them aside.

Watching him is miserable so I step around the disaster and crouch in front of him.

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