Loving You Differently

Twenty Three

Aria Adkins

A sense of deja vu washes over me as I stand in front of my closet topless, clad in only a basic black bra and a pair of ripped mom jeans. An array of shirts sit wrinkled at my feet and I huff, once again frustrated at my lack of nice apparel.

What do you wear to meet your boyfriend's brother who you've kind of already met, but not really?

Whatever it is, it's not in my closet.

Grumbling to myself, I bend down and reach for a random cropped t-shirt that I'd thrown down after already trying on twice. It'll have to do.

I nearly jump out of my skin when behind me, a deep baritone voice says, "I think we should reschedule."

I spin around, clutching the shirt to my chest while my heart proceeds to beat out of it. I sigh when my wide eyes meet Austin's molten gaze. "You scared the shit out of me," I accuse, scowling.

I slowly relax and run my eyes eagerly over his frame, taking in the way his black t-shirt melds against his chest, and happily admiring the swirls of colored ink that are proudly on display, and even the way his jeans hug his thighs. It's confirmed: Austin looks good in literally everything.

He chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans against my doorframe. "I knocked, but you didn't hear me."

I roll my eyes in jest and proceed to pull the striped t-shirt over my head. I tug the hem down self-consciously and ask, "Does this look okay?"

Austin pushes off of the door frame and walks towards me. He whistles lowly and reaches a tattooed arm out, hooking it around my waist. I willingly step into his embrace, my head tilted back to look up at him. "You look good in everything, I've told you that," he says.

My cheeks flush crimson and I playfully push him backwards. He goes willingly, plopping down on the edge of my bed and propping his elbows on his knees. I turn and face the flimsy full-length mirror that sits haphazardly against my wall, sheepishly meeting his eyes. I busy myself by pulling on a simple black belt while trying to ignore the way his eyes greedily roam my figure.

Once I finish looping the belt through my jeans, I turn back around to face him. "Why would we reschedule?" I ask curiously.

He reaches an arm out and hooks it behind my thigh, pulling me into the space between his open legs. My hands flail out and I grasp his shoulders to steady myself. He has a habit of constantly catching me off guard. "Because," he starts, craning his neck back to look up at me, "I'd rather stay here and kiss you than listen to whatever news my brother deems necessary to break in public."

I squeeze his shoulder gently. "It could be good news," I suggest hopefully.

"Or it's bad news and he wanted there to be witnesses in case I lunge over the table and throttle him in the middle of a restaurant," he muses.

"Such a pessimistic outlook," I chide teasingly.

I barely catch a glimpse of his teasing smirk before he hoists me up, pulling my legs on either side of them. "You're one to talk," he murmurs, nuzzling my neck.

"You're being awfully affectionate today," I muse.

"Missed you," he mumbles against my neck.