there arenât three million other guys in the city who would happily return any interest she showed in them.
Dakota huffs. The gray dress sheâs wearing is falling off her shoulder and she looks so small next to me.
âI donât know . . . maybe I never said your name, exactly.â She looks around my bedroom. Her eyes stop at the picture of us on my dresser. âAnd I didnât keep any pictures of us around.â
She looks guilty when she says this. And itâs not like I expected her to build a shrine for me or anything, but is it possible that she didnât even mention my name to her roommates? Not once?
âLike at all?â I ask.
She shakes her hand and pulls at my shirt. Her fingers are struggling to loosen the fabric, so she moves to the buttons of my jeans. I steady them, cupping my hands around hers and pulling them to her chest.
âNot tonight,â I say against her cheek.
With a pouty grumble, she pulls her hand free and dips it into my pants. I groan as she grips me and slowly moves her hand up and down.
Think logically, I remind myself.
I have to think logically, and I canât do that while Dakotaâs teasing me like this. I reach for her hand and gently unwrap her fingers from me. She looks up at me in confusion.
âYou had too much to drink,â I say, and lead her by the elbow to my bed. She stands in silence while I reach for the zipper of her dress.
She gathers up her hair and holds it out of the way to allow me access to the fabric. When the dress begins to fall she holds it to her chest and I pull her tights down her smooth legs. She steps out of them and lets the dress drop to the floor. She isnât wearing a bra.
Fuck me, she isnât wearing a bra.
Clearly Iâm meant to be tempted tonight. For panties, sheâs wearing a red thong made of lace. Her ass looks so good in them, petite and toned. She turns around to face me with a devilishly sly grin.
âI donât remember these,â I tease. I hook my finger around the hip of her panties and she moans when the fabric snaps back against her tawny skin.
I back away and she glares at me.
âYouâre mean,â she says, sticking out her tongue as she shakes her ass a little. Sheâs in a playful mood now, and Iâm very aware that Iâm in for it. Thereâs nothing she can do to make me sleep with her tonight, no matter how sexy she looks standing here in only panties. We havenât touched each other in months, and we arenât dating. Tonight isnât the night to change all that. Not while sheâs wasted and weâre both confused.
Sheâll understand in the morning.
I wrap my hands around her shoulders. âLetâs get you to bed.â
I can hear Tessa and Nora talking in the living room, but I canât make out anything theyâre saying. Dakota grabs the picture frame from my dresser and holds it to her face.
âWe were soooo dorky!â She laughs, running a finger over the hideous plaid shirt Iâm wearing in the picture.
Her bare breasts are distracting me, but I steer my attention toward grabbing her a shirt from my drawer. I reach around her and blindly pull something out, only to find itâs my Adrian High School track shirt.
Of course it is, because we are in some mystical land where we canât seem to outrun our past no matter what we do. Dakota snatches it from me and brings it to her chest. She lifts it up, smelling the worn-out fabric.
âThis shirt, oh my God!â She seems genuinely happy, and I donât think she notices when the talking in the living room quiets again. I do.
âWe had sooo many good times in this shirt,â she muses, her tongue licking at her lips.
I look away from her bouncing body.
âPut me out of my misery and put it on, please,â I plead with her.
She giggles, thoroughly enjoying my compliments and admiration of her dancerâs body, as she should. She should always feel like this, beautiful and empowered. Sheâs still a little drunk, but