Born to Die - Drew Starkey

6. Drew

I didn't even know what to look at. Each post I could stare at for hours—for different reasons. The pinned one was her in a red thong bikini. Yikes. That could keep me hard for a couple days—I'd definitely go back to that later when I was alone. But even just a sweet photo of her and her siblings out for dinner you'd catch me smiling at. But then there were photos of her from Halloween, dressed to impress in some very revealing lingerie and bunny ears, looking straight out of Mean Girls. Photos of her with friends taking on Manhattan. And yeah, photos with her ex. Juliette was way way too far out of my league. Way out there.

I've been grinding my teeth all day since I knocked on her door and she answered in red underwear. Red. Lace. Underwear. I figured maybe white or tan or baby blue. But, no. Red. Not only that, but coming back and seeing her bent over like that. I stared for a second and then looked down at my hands, imagining what it must feel like to have that ass in my palms.

But she pushed me away. Did she know I was turned on? Did I make her uncomfortable?

God, now looking back at it, during our scene she covered up her chest. I wasn't even looking and she covered up. And I asked for a goddamn pillow between us. And I closed her legs up.

I was totally making her uncomfortable.

I was bringing four of her seven suitcases down the hall—two more than I took at a time earlier, so that I could go back and see her more. She was back in my room, grabbing two or three, it didn't matter if she took zero, I'd bring them all if she asked.

I hauled them into the Uber, then wordlessly took the others from her and snapped the handles closed, shoving them deep into the large truck.

"I just need to get mine and check out." I said shortly, not really looking at her. "I'll be right out."

She nodded shyly and got in the car. I turned over my shoulder and she had her eyes closed and head rested against the window.

I smiled.

When I was all checked out and my one suitcase—one suitcase—was in the trunk, I carefully and quietly slid two seats over from Juliette and told the driver we were ready.

Her head bumped gently against the window the whole way.

I started lugging her bags into her trailer before she woke up and came around to help me. I brushed it off like nothing, which it kinda was.

"You don't need to help me with all of this. I'm a strong independent woman." She said quietly as I wheeled the last bag into her trailer.

"I know. I've just been working up the courage to ask you out." I breathed heavily and rolled up my sleeves.

She laughed and carefully leaned a suitcase down so she could unzip it. "I'm on a man hiatus."

I rolled my eyes and said nothing for a moment as I watched her go through the art and pull things out. I first imagined just paintings, but there were charcoal drawings, ceramic pots, plates and mugs, metal jewelry, and more.

Then I remembered I had a conversation to finish. "I understand how what he did hurt you. But you can't rule out—"

"No. Everyone gets hurt by relationships. You'd have to come up with a whole new word for what I went through with Corey."

What the hell did that mean? "What?"

She shook her head, shaking the conversation away.

"Corey was simply just an asshole," I explained. "He's probably one of those guys that always thinks with his dick. Did he ever do anything to show he cared about you?"