Page 175 of Worthy

“Not much to tell,” I say and then sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you, but I don’t want you to overreact.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I lean back and meet his gaze in the shadows. “Promise me, Dean. You won’t do anything if I tell you.”

He stares carefully at me and then inclines his chin. “Fine.”

I narrow my eyes at him and then decide that he must be telling the truth. And really, I’ll feel better if I can talk about it. I want to tell him, to let him comfort me.

“I moved in with those assholes because the rent was cheap and they seemed…fine. Mostly. But then one of them saw something they didn’t like and they freaked out. It’s…I cannot believe this is even an issue these days.”

“What issue?” Dean asks.

His brows are pinched in concern, and I glance away. “Well, it took me a long time to come to terms with what I like…that it isn’t wrong…”

Sneaking a look at him, his brow furrows even deeper. Oh damn, he’s so cute.

“What do you like?” he asks and I sigh, closing my eyes.

“I like…feminine things. Skirts, dresses, high heels, lipstick….”

I peek one eyelid open and Dean’s still staring at me.

“And this is why your roommate punched you?” he asks, his voice low like he’s growing angry over it. Well, I hope he’s growing angry over that and not the fact that I like skirts and makeup.

“Um, well, he didn’t understand when he saw me all dressed up…he got nervous. I…” I wet my lips. “I kind of understand…it was a shock to him. I mean, even I was afraid to accept myself for so many years…”

Dean reaches out and clasps my jaw gently, forcing my gaze to his. “Why don’t you wear any of that stuff to work? I’ve never seen you wear this stuff. You’re always in baggy clothes.” His voice grows gruff and he lets out a shaky breath, looking distraught. “Are you afraid of us?”

A loud laugh escapes me and when I realize he’s not being funny, I bite my bottom lip.

“I didn’t know what kind of people you were when I first started. I mean, look at you.”

Dean huffs, and I continue, “I get that it’s not…conventional. And that a lot of people wouldn’t understand it. I don’t want to drive away business. The men and women who come to you for business…they may not like it.”

His grip tightens a little, not hurting, but making my chest pinch all the same.

“You wear whatever the fuck you want, Avery. If that’s skirts and high heels and lipstick, then so fucking be it. My customers can deal or they can fuck right off.”

Oh god, I could kiss him. Why does the most perfect man have to be straight? I’d straight-up marry his ass. Literally, I’d make do with just one of his body parts. I’d take it straight to the altar.

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable…”

He presses his forehead against mine, those lips so impossibly close.

“You be you, Avery. Don’t let those fuckers tell you to change.”

Oh, sweet Jesus. My entire body is trembling, and I lean forward, wanting to close the gap between us, press my lips to his, and hold him against me.

But he moves away before I can. He sets me on the couch cushion next to him and then stands up.

“I’m gonna…” he nods toward the hallway and then he’s gone. That fine ass disappears from view, and I’m left sitting there, my heart hammering against my chest and my dick impossibly hard.

What was that? What the fuck was that?

I don’t know, but I’m gonna pick it apart tonight when I should be sleeping. Maybe tomorrow, if I feel confident, I’ll wear a modest skirt to work. Just to see if Dean really means what he says.

Maybe it’s time to start being me out in the open.

Maybe it’s finally time to show the world who I really am.

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