Page 80 of Sneak Attack

I was loving this too.

I flung open his closet door and froze. There were clothes hung neatly, boxes piled beneath a row of T-shirts and next to a shelf of shorts and pants. Figured he’d have clothes here, I guessed, but the lingering scent of his cologne assaulted me, forcing me to take a deep inhale before I was nudged to the side.

“What are we searching for?” Davis asked and his chin hit my shoulder, looking into the closet. “His old porn magazines?”

“No, you perv.”

I shoved him off and moved a pile of boxes while he muttered, “People gotta stop shoving me around all the time.”

“Be tougher,” Cole quipped back with that same laughter in his voice.

It made me smile while I shoved a heavy box out of the way and found what I was finally looking for.

“Yes!”

The posters were rolled up, but still together.

I didn’t know whether to give Cole crap for having them in high school, or the fact his mom didn’t throw them away when she clearly took the time to pack up his things.

“Posters?” Davis arched his brows disapprovingly. “Thisis his big secret?”

“You haven’t seen them unrolled yet.”

I took them to the bed and undid the band. Keeping the back of the last one facing Davis, I unrolled them, already laughing when the one in front appeared.

“Cole’s not just a music fan, Davis. He’s afemalepop music fan.”

“Noooo.” He drew the word out like the scandal it was.

“What happens in this room stays in this room,” Cole said, still at his perch in the doorway. I figured he was enjoying this, watching me be silly, and there was little heat in his threat.

Davis glanced back at him and barked out a laugh. “The hell it does. Show me. Show me!” He clapped his hands together, and I tossed down the first poster.

Flattening it on the bed, Davis started laughing. “Okay. The female pop music thing is funny, but this woman’s iconic.”

“True,” I said. It was, after all, Beyoncé. “But this one?”

I tossed another one down and then another. Davis excused himself to the bathroom threatening to pee his pants as posters of Katy Perry appeared, then Carrie Underwood who was still in her country days, but she worked the boots Cole used to like so much—and we were near Nashville.

“Not done yet!” I called out to Davis.

“I’m coming!”

“He better not be after seeing all these posters,” Cole mumbled and moved back to let Davis back into the room.

“Gross.” I could barely get the word out through my laugh.

“Okay.” He wiggled his fingers toward his chest. “Hit me.”

“There’s this beauty.” I tossed down a poster of Adele, and Davis lost his smile. “I mean, damn. You know. Those curves. That class. Can’t say I haven’t imagined her taking a ride on—”

“Don’t finish that,” Cole cut in.

“Right. My bad. Forgot my company.”

With the final two posters, I took one in each hand and slowly turned them around. Davis’s eyes went wide, and he took in one, then another, back to the first one again and he spun around.

“Oh Cole! I didn’t know you were a Swiftie!”

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