“You following me?” I tease.
He knowingly shrugs his shoulders. “Hey.” A small smile plays at his full lips.
“Hey.” My eyes rake down his body, unable to hold back their amusement.
“Sexy as fuck, I know.”
“That’s one way to describe your…dress. I knew you were pretty, but I didn’t know you were this pretty. And that gash really sells the look.” I motion towards the cut on his right cheek, which I’m assuming he earned during his game today.
“I told him to keep it away from the money maker, but you should see the other guy.” Zanders stands straighter, smugly running a hand down the sparkly blue fabric covering his chest. “He messed with the wrong ice queen.”
A laugh heaves in my chest as I cock my head to the side. “How did you get stuck with Elsa? All your other friends at least looked like their characters.”
“You don’t think the blonde wig works with my skin tone?”
Zanders chuckles as I raise a single brow in answer.
“Ella picked our costumes. Said that people think Elsa is mean the way people think I’m mean, but that we’re actually both really nice.” He holds his hands up in defense. “Her words, not mine.”
The more I get to know the Chicago defenseman, the more I think Ella might be right.
She really is the smartest.
“I see you’re walking better these days.”
Rolling my eyes, I don’t honor his statement with a response. Instead, I try to cover my blushing cheeks by sticking the end of my hoodie string in my mouth and locking my eyes on the ground.
“And we still haven’t thrown out those disgusting sweatpants, I see.”
Mouth gaping in mock offense, my head snaps up to look at him. “If you’re so concerned with my loungewear, you can buy me new ones.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Don’t worry. They’ll be coming off soon. I’m about to get in the shower.”
Zanders’ hazel eyes hood over. “Are you really trying to turn me on while I’m wearing a fucking dress, sweetheart?”
“Everything turns you on.”
“You turn me on.”
Swallowing hard, I pull my gaze from his.
“How have you been?” Zanders’ question is soft and completely sincere, taking me by surprise.
“Good?” My brows furrow in confusion as to why he cares.
“Good. That’s good. That’s great even.” His words come out flustered, and I’ve never seen this confident man so flustered before.
Looking him up and down, it makes me wonder why the headlines never cover this part of his life. What would the buzz be if people knew Chicago’s playboy was spending his Saturday night in a dress that his best friend’s daughter picked for him?
And that little thought makes me wonder what else they’re not publishing in news articles about him. He did say he pays his PR team a pretty penny to push the narrative he wants, which clearly isn’t this version of him.
But why not?
“You can see my apartment from here.” Snapping out of my trance, I follow Zanders’ line of sight behind me to the large windows encasing my apartment. “Right there. The top floor.” His voice is soft, his mouth close to my ear. Bending down, he points out the back window to the tall building across the street.
“You live across the street?” I can see his entire apartment from here, and holy hell, it’s nice.
“Now you know where to find me when you’re ready for a repeat of last weekend.”
There’s that sultry voice I’m used to. His tone drips with sex. How is that even possible?
Turning back to face him, Zanders doesn’t move, his lips sinfully close to my own. His stare bounces between my mouth and my eyes, as does mine, before I step away, creating some space between us.
Somehow even wearing a sparkly dress and a platinum wig, he can still turn me on.
Stupid award-winning dick.
“Seems like you’ve been plenty occupied this week,” I retort, needing to put some walls back up. But I don’t know why the hell I would say that. Zanders loves his reputation. Me rubbing it in his face makes me sound like a jealous, petty jerk.
Instead of wearing the gloat I’d assume he’d have, his face falls surprisingly. “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet, Stevie girl.”
A moment of awkward silence lingers between us before my lips lift in an apologetic smile.
Disappointment covers his features as he turns away from my door, needing to meet up with his friends. “See you around.” He shoots me a half-grin, but there isn’t much joy behind it. More so sadness, reminding me that I’m a complete jerk.