I’d just answered my own question, and I bit my lip.

It wasn’t working.

I tried my cheek. Ow! And that wasn’t working either.

“What do a mullet and a ferret have in common?”

GAH!

I bit down harder, and this time I tasted blood. I was almost hyperventilating again. If I went down a few more inches, I could just buckle to the ground, wrap my arms around my knees, and hope to disappear.

I’d started to think I should do that when I heard a soft chuckle.

“I would ask my brother something,” he said. “I like the word fuck for anything, and having sex on a bike sounds fun to try. I can’t think of anything they have in common except the words both have two of the same letters in the middle, both have six letters, and you could put a ferret on someone’s head to look like a mullet.”

I…had no idea what to do.

He’d answered my questions.

No one answered my questions.

I stayed frozen for a second before lifting my head. I gulped again.

“You don’t think I’m a freak?”

“No, I do. You’re crazy.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up, and holy shit, my heart flopped over in my chest. There was the Reese Forster that was in Person magazine’s Most Beautiful People issue. There was my fantasy for so many years.

“But I’m hoping you’re harmless.” He laughed softly, his hands pushing down on his hoodie so it stretched from his shoulders to accentuate his physique.

God.

This guy.

I had watched him running up and down the court so many times—I knew his body was lean and muscled. He was solid, but in front of me, he seemed larger than life, with bright hazel eyes. They had a golden ring of honey around the iris, and a smattering of blue and green.

Long eyelashes.

High and angular cheekbones.

A strong jawline that could cut paper, or glass—maybe not glass, but definitely something else. Go back to the water. Man, I had just envisioned him with droplets sliding down his face, lingering at the dip of his chin where it came to the most perfect square end. There was a slight scruff on his face. He hadn’t shaved that day or the day before, giving him a very rough, slightly alarming, and so authoritative air.

I sighed to myself, my fingers curling around the counter.

I was ogling.

I didn’t care.

After all the questions, this was nothing. The guy must’ve been used to it by now.

A slight growl vibrated out of him, and my gaze snapped up to his.

His hair. I was distracted again. It was the perfect short length and a dirty blond color. It matched the honey in his eyes.

In some ways, it wasn’t fair.

No guy could measure against him. None.