Page 97 of Shutout
Slowly, I turn back around and fold my arms. “Where’s the other dress?”
“What?” He runs a hand through his blond hair once. Twice.
“You said you’d selected a couple of them while I was trying on the first one.”
“Oh, right.” He clears his throat as he reaches over again. He must’ve hung them from the door of the adjacent dresser. This time, the dress he presents to me is finally in line with what we’re here for. At least on account of the color. “I think you’ll actually like this one.”
I feel the fabric between my fingers. It’s silky but not as thin as the real deal. “Hmm. Okay.” I take it from him and make a big show of heading back into my dresser at a snail’s pace. Through the mirror, I can see his eyes glued to the expanse of bare skin at my back. I close the door and lock it, not becausehe’d ever try anything. But because I might. If he keeps looking at me like that I will.
Please, keep looking at me like that, I beg in my mind.
I hurry out of the pink dress to put on the black one. This fabric has zero give, so I slide it down from above. It’s like it was custom made for my weird shape though. The drooping folds at my chest compared to how tight it fits everywhere else is actually very flattering.
This time, no matter how much I pretzel myself, I can’t zip it up. It’s fine, though. The dress fits like a glove, so I know one of my roommates can help me into it on the night of the event. But now I can’t pull the tab down either, which means it got stuck on the fabric.
I contemplate whether to live in the dress forever, or to…
To… open the door, and ask Brooklyn for help.
I swallow so hard that I can hear it. My chest rises and falls with my rapid breathing. I’m going to do this, though. I have to test this new theory that he does think I’m hot. That the kiss we shared in the spring wasn’t a fluke. That there could’ve been something between us if he wasn’t leaving in a month.
“Brooke?” My voice breaks a little.
“What’s up?”
“I need help. I’m stuck.”
“‘Kay. Open the door.”
That sounds a lot more ominous than it should. But I open the door, even though I know this will change things.
Brooke’s expression is serious as his eyes run down my frame. No laughter or coughing this time. Instead, he does something even more terrifying. He walks into the dressing room.
I take a step back, almost hitting the wall behind me. The door swings shut all by itself. As it clicks, my breath hitches.
Green eyes travel down the slope of my clavicle to my shoulder, down to my arm where the goosebumps are theworst. His lips curve in the corners. “You don’t look stuck. This one fits you like a glove.”
I shuffle awkwardly to present my back. “Not me, it’s the zipper.” I keep my face angled toward the mirror so I can catch every minutia. His eyelids lower, and I feel his gaze down my bare back like a caress. It skips past the zipper tab and settles on my butt.
For the first time in our lives, Brooklyn is openly staring at my ass. And his hand closes into a tight fist at his side like he’s holding back from reaching out.
A weaker woman would collapse against the wall. I don’t know how I manage to not be that weaker woman.
“Brooke?”
“Right.” He jerks himself out of the trance, taking a step closer to get a proper look. I can’t do anything to hide the shiver when his fingers brush against my back. “Sorry. I know you’re ticklish.”
I grit my teeth. That wasn’t it. At all.
“Damn. This is really stuck.” He grunts as he tugs on the fabric, which jerks me against him.
“Uhh.” I lean my head back to look up at him. “You might want to be a bit more careful or you’ll rip the whole thing open.”
Brooke blinks down at me. Swallows hard. “I’m considering it.”
The beat of my heart turns into pounding. His hands release the zipper and instead, cinch around my waist. His name falls out of my lips like a question, but all the answer I get his Brooklyn lowering his forehead to my shoulder. His skin feels like fire against mine.
“Liv…”
