Page 57 of Race to Me

In one night, my world has turned upside down.

No, right side up.

Foster walks out of his bathroom, steam flowing around his muscled body and a towel hanging dangerously low on his defined hips.

I bite my lip, feeling like I’m doing something wrong by laying lazily in bed on a Sunday morning in a guy’s room. I, Skyler Johnson, never do things like this. But the new me apparently does.

I’m not sure how I feel about it.

The one thing I’m absolutely certain of is the adorable way he looks when he throws his head to the side to get the water from his ears, the delicious way his dark hair is an unruly wet mess, and the way his midnight eyes still hold the sleepiness of the night before.

After we climbed back onto his bike at our spot last night, all of my adrenaline dissipated. I held onto him so tightly, not paying attention to the speed we were going or the many traffic laws he broke to get me home.

Aside from a few odd looks from his roommates at the idea of Foster having the same girl in his room, two nights in one week, on the way upstairs, we were finally alone and in a small but safe spot to unwind.

He held me, and although his grip was tight, I didn’t care because I feltsafe.

“Earth to Skyler,” Foster sings, grinning. I tilt my head, having not realized I spaced out. “Sleep good?” he asks, opening up a drawer and pulling out a neatly folded black t-shirt. He grins and looks at me, then puts it on. I remember organizing his drawers the other night, and I’m glad it’s being appreciated.

Now, to figure out the mess of my new, unorganized life.

I stretch my arms out. “Yeah,” I mutter, my voice still hoarse from the constant stream of tears from the night before. I don’t think another droplet could fall from my blue eyes.

“Good,” He nods. “Get up. We’re having ayouday.”

I laugh, flopping back onto the soft comforter. “Ameday?” I ask. I turn my head on the pillow, watching with curious anticipation as his towel drops to the floor in a thud. I gulp seeing all of him. “Is umm ...” I don’t know what to say now.

Foster grabs a pair of black jeans from the top of his dresser and slips them on after pulling on a pair of boxers. “Why are you blushing?” he asks, tilting his head in inquiry.

He knows exactly why I’m blushing, but I want to play with him. “I don’t know.” I shrug, looking slowly up and down his body. “I thought it would be bigger.” I lie and burst into laughter when he lunges onto the bed to tickle me.

After a few minutes of out of breath laughing from Foster—carefully—tickling me, making sure to not touch one single bruise on my body, we collapse onto the bed together.

His eyes bore into mine. “I saw the drool. You don’t have to lie.” he teases, a crooked grin on his face.

I tilt my head. “Drool?”

His tattooed finger slides across my forehead, moving the unbrushed, messy hair from my face. “The surprised look on your face tells me you’ve never seen something so big before.” Foster bites his lip.

My cheeks flush a deeper shade of crimson, and I want to tell him I’ve never seen oneever,but I refrain. “So, what are we doing exactly on mymeday?” I ask, changing the subject.

Laying on his back with his arms folded under his head, I get a striking view of his long, muscular body. I try to keep my face straight, knowing this new sense of freedom is definitely going to get me into trouble when it comes to him. I’ve never in my life been around a man this much.

Besides Brett, but that’s different. That’s Brett, and this is Foster. A walking representation of temptation.

Foster screamssexwith the way he walks, talks, and breathes. I’ve never felt this swept up in someone before. I mean, shit, my entire world is crumbling around me, and he sends one dimpled grin, making me melt. Making me forget troubles exist in this world.

When he casually places his large, warm hand on my bare thigh, a rush of nerves jolts my body. “We didn’t get a lot of things from your house.” he says.

I shake my head, the butterflies getting crushed by a large pit in my stomach. “I don’t want to go back there.” I whisper.

He sits up, his eyes squinted in anger. “You’ll never fucking have to, okay? I’m never taking you anywhere near that fucked up neighborhood.” I calm at his words, taking in a deep breath. “We’re going shopping.”

A ridiculous smile takes over my face. “So, you’re going to stay at the mall for hours while I shop. Are you ready for that?” I giggle, trying to imagine him in American Eagle.

Foster throws me a funny face. “Do I get to see you in tight clothes?” he inquires. I nod with a blush, looking away. “Then I’m in.”

I reach for my phone, going to text Kate, but there’s nothing to reach for. “Dammit!” I cry.

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