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Oh, no.

His eyes run across my face and I wonder what he sees there. Denial? Sheer panic? Attraction? I swallow and it sounds loud in this small space. He smells good. Why does he have to smell good? I’m so annoyed. He’s got a hint of stubble across his jaw and I find myself wondering what that would feel like pressed against my neck. Stop thinking. I need to stop thinking. Or start thinking about something else. Like orphaned kangaroos.

He takes my silence as license to continue speaking. “Stunning, actually. Your hair, Jesus.” Traffic picks up and he settles back into his seat as the car moves forward. “It’s not red.”

“No.”

“I can’t wait to run my hands through it,” he says and I suck in a breath. “Or wrap it around my fist to pull you closer, or yank your head back while I’ve got you bent over—”

“Stop it!” It comes out a little breathless, even to my own ears.

He laughs, but continues in a less sexual tone. “It’s… the color of a goddamned melted Hershey bar is what it is. I can’t imagine you were a redheaded child, so Shortcake doesn’t make sense, and Finn’s a pretty logical guy.”

“I was carrying a Strawberry Shortcake backpack when we met,” I finally mumble.

“Excuse me?” He looks genuinely thrown for a minute, glancing at me as the car moves through traffic.

“I was carrying a Strawberry Shortcake backpack when we met.”

He moves the hand from his thigh to his mouth. I’m not sure why, because he’s laughing too hard to cover it up.

“I was six, asshole!”

He calms himself and nods. “I need a pet name for you then, if I’m going to compete with Finn for your affections.”

“There’s no competition.”

“You’re right. Finn isn’t competing, so the game’s mine.” He shoots me a wink and I groan. “Commando.”

“What?”

“I’ll call you Commando,” he replies. “Since we’re doing nicknames based on first meetings.”

It takes me a second to process what he’s saying. “I’m wearing underwear!”

He nods. “Good. Tell me about them.”

“No! You’re really aggressive, you know that?”

“Coming from you I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say dismissively and cross my legs. I tap on my phone screen wondering if I can calculate how much longer I’m going to be trapped in this car.

“Boots.”

“What?” I wonder if there’s something wrong with him. Isn’t there a disorder that causes people to randomly blurt out words that make no sense? That’s probably what he has. I’m gonna check on WebMD.

“I’ll call you Boots,” he says, nodding at my legs. I’m wearing brown knee-high boots, my jeans tucked into them. My legs look incredible. I planned this outfit from head to toe. For Finn. “Since you vetoed Commando, we’ll go with Boots.”

I blow out a breath. “Fine.”

Six

Six Years Ago

“Chloe, zip me up, please.” I turn my back to her, holding the front of my homecoming dress against my chest to hold the dress up.