Page 34 of Perfect Score

I roll my eyes and then stare at the distorted reflection of us in the metal elevator. “As if I don’t feel stupid enough for thinking you wanted to take me in the first place?” I mutter softly.

I drop my vision down to my black heels, staring at the stark contrast between my shoes and the lighter cream tiles of the elevator.

He’s so close as it is, but he takes the last half step closer, his black dress shoes coming toe to toe with my open-toe French tip pedicure.

His feet seem three times the size as my much smaller ones. Just another way that I pale in comparison.

“Please look at me, Zoey,” he says.

His index finger slides gently under my chin, but he doesn’t force my head up.

Instead, I relent to his patient touch on me, tilting my head back to see him more clearly.

The lights of the elevator shine down against his back, outlining his stature.

Brent is larger than life and has carved out his place in the NHL, and all I want is to find where I fit in, too. I thought that place was with Liam, but I guess I was wrong.

“Did you really get a Brazilian for me?” he asks with a slight smirk.

I slap his hand away from my chin, trying not to blush again and turn my head.

I didn’t mean to admit that, but he could have pretended not to hear it.

“Is that really what you took from what I admitted to you? That I got waxed?” I growl.

He snickers. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to lighten the mood a little. There were a lot of things said downstairs and since you’re upset about them, maybe we should discuss a couple of them.”

“Like what?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and looking over at the elevator floor number that still hasn’t moved since he hit the closed-door button.

“For starters," he says, now staring at our reflection in the elevator as well. "Did you really rent a room for us to use after prom?”

I want to deny it, but at this point. What does is matter anymore? Abigail outed me.

“I don’t know… did you really get an erection when I sat on your lap? And did the entire hockey team know it was because of me?” I ask, becoming bolder than I usually am.

He nods. “Yeah.”

Oh…

I glance up at him. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“I’m not. Except for who I confided in about it.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Who did you confide in?” I ask.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done and I learned my lesson… twice.” he lets out a heavy breath.

“That guy must be a jerk.”

“He is,” he nods, and then looks down at our feet.

“Can I ask another question?” I ask, looking up at him again.

“Sure.”

I look down at his perfectly fitted slacks and he follows my line of sight.

“Why did it get hard?”

---