Page 43 of Outcast
“No,” I said with relief, stripping it off. “How about this one?”
I grabbed a graphic tee in shades of navy blue and gray with an abstract design. It molded to my body nicely, but it was cotton, and I felt a little less like I was wearing a neon sign that said,looking to get laid.
Even if I was kind of hoping to get laid…I didn’t want to come across as desperate.
“Perfect,” Allison said. “Pair it with some jeans. Tight, but not too tight. You want to say my ass is hot, but it’s not easy.”
I snorted. “You should start a dating advice column.”
“I totally should,” she said seriously.
I grabbed some designer jeans out of the closet. They were distressed and frayed at the bottom, so hopefully, they wouldn’t look too far out of place. I stepped out of view of the video call to drop my pants and pull on the jeans. We were close friends, but I didn’t need to show her how tightly my boxer briefs cupped my junk.
“You look fantastic,” she said, when I was fully dressed and back in view. “You know what this means?”
“What?”
“You can’t back out now.”
My stomach flip-flopped, nerves resurging. But there was excitement there too. A low simmer of heat at the idea of kissing Gray again.
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to back out.”
“Good. Because I want a full report tomorrow morning. Every dirty detail, my friend.”
“Not happening.”
She sighed. “Fine, just the highlights, then. Now, get going. Don’t make him think you’re not gonna show.”
Shit, this was really happening. I was going out to meet a man for a drink.
Probably more.
I grinned nervously. “Wish me luck.”
“Hell yeah,” Allison said. “Go have fun. You deserve it.”
I disconnected the call, grabbed my wallet and crammed it into my back pocket, then left before I could change my mind.
CHAPTERTEN
Gray
Bailey bentover the pool table, squinting one eye as he sized up his shot.
“There’s no way you make this one. You’d have to?—”
Clack.
The cue ball careened into the side of the pool table, ricocheted across to crash into a purple-striped ball—which went into the side pocket—then bounced off it to glide toward the corner, where the eight ball remained.
“It’s not going to make it,” I muttered. “It’s moving too slow. It’ll stop, and…”
I trailed off as the cue ball reached the corner and, with a gentle tap, knocked the eight ball into the pocket.
“Son of a bitch!”
Axel draped his arm around my shoulders. “There’s a lot you missed while you were gone, Gray, but you just got a valuable lesson.”
