I flush all over, suddenly shy in front of the man who has seen me in less. The man who has had his tongue in my mouth and his mouth on my breasts. We’ve already been up close and personal.

“Yes,” he says stiffly. “You need to wear panties.”

“Do you want to see the dress before you decide?”

“Nope,” he says. “I just want you to keep your underwear on.”

Well.

That ruins my entire outfit.

I sigh and step aside to let him in. He’s hesitant but eventually follows me, closing the door behind him.

“You’re early,” I say, walking towards my room.

When I glance back, I catch him staring at my ass. He blushes.

“I thought there’d be more traffic.”

I hum and convince myself it was because he couldn’t wait to see me.

“Just give me a minute,” I tell him. “I’m almost ready.”

My door clicks behind me and I resist the urge to bang my head against it. This isn’t how I envisioned the night beginning.

It’s not even how I envisioned it ending.

A kiss goodnight, sure.

But I had no plans to show Asher what was or wasn’t underneath my dress.

Deciding against the light blue dress, I fan through my rack of clothes. I find a navy midi dress with a v-neckline and short lace sleeves. The skirt has enough of a flare that no one would question whether or not I was wearing panties.

“Where was Joey going in such a rush?” Asher asks from the living room.

“Airport.”

“Where’s she going?” he asks.

“Norway for work,” I say. “And then Copenhagen to spend Christmas with her family.”

“And you’re staying here for the holiday?”

“I am.” I pull my dress over my head.

“Why aren’t you going home?”

I catch my reflection in the mirror. My makeup looks fantastic. I’m not about to ruin it with the threat of tears, so I ignore his question and continue to twist and turn towards the mirror to get a better look at my back. If barre class taught me anything, it’s that I’m not flexible enough to do up my own zipper. “Ash?”

Silence.

“Asher?”

“Yeah, sorry, do you know that your neighbor sells electronics out of the trunk of his car? I’m watching him right now. He’s not very stealthy.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s Mark,” I say. “He sells other things too. Last week he gave me a really good deal on a toaster.”

“Was it stolen?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t want to ask,” I laugh. “Can you come help me?”

“I’m no good with makeup,” he says. “Chloe says I need to watch YouTube tutorials.”

I stifle another laugh. “It’s not makeup related.”

My bedroom door opens slowly, Asher’s head peeking through the frame. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror.