I walk over to his dresser, where a pair of shorts are folded, and I hand them to him. He slips them under the bed, and I watch him shimmy into them without showing off any skin. He then flips the covers off him and sits on the edge of the bed. His hand presses into his eye as he attempts to wake himself up.
I just stand there and stare.
Breaker is a far cry from the man I once met.
In that dorm hallway, he was tall, lanky, and had enough shaggy hair on the top of his head to be mistaken for a Yorkshire Terrier. Now, well, not so lanky anymore. Broad shoulders with sinew wrapping around them, flowing down his biceps that are thick but not in a bodybuilder way. He’s strong, fit, with enormous pecs and a pair of abs that quite frankly I’m jealous of. And his hair is no longer shaggy, more like perfectly cut to look messy, but it really isn’t. And instead of his pasty white complexion from being inside nonstop studying, he is a beautiful bronze from running outside with his shirt off.
I’ve never truly ogled my best friend, but . . . I can admit he has a really nice body.
Like . . . really nice.
“This burrito better be good,” he says as he stands, completely missing the fact that I just checked him out. Thank God for that. He works his way toward the bathroom, where he shuts the door. I leave him to his business and head out to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee for us. He always carries the dark chocolate raspberry coffee that I love. He says he can’t taste the flavor, only smell it, but I can taste all the raspberry goodness, it’s why it’s my favorite.
“I can smell the raspberry from here,” Breaker says as he stands at the doorway of his kitchen, scratching his chest, a lopsided grin playing at his lips.
My eyes travel down his chest, to the V in his hips that is shown off by his low-hanging shorts.
Okay . . . really, really nice body.
Not sure if he’s kicked up his workout routine lately or what, but he’s uh . . . he’s looking good.
I turn away and hide the slight blush of my cheeks as I say, “It’s potent because I haven’t unleashed it in a while.”
“When was the last time you had breakfast here?” he asks as he takes a seat on the counter.
“I don’t know, we’ve been doing dinners more lately.”
“Yeah, because you spend a lot of weekend nights over at Brian’s, and I’m usually rushing around in the morning on weekdays looking to get to work. I don’t have time for casual breakfasts.”
I turn to face him and lean against the counter. “Well, now that you’re on sabbatical, you have all the time in the world.”
“Maybe this time will give me a moment to get to know . . . Birdy.” He wiggles his eyebrows, making me laugh.
“You know, I cyberstalked her last night.”
“Did you really? What did you come up with?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yeah, I would.” He nods at me. “Come on, spill. Tell me what I’m getting myself into tonight.”
I grab my phone from the counter, and while the coffee brews, I show Breaker the screenshots I took last night for this very purpose—to share with him.
“Okay, first of all, she’s really pretty.”
“Looks aren’t everything, but that’s a bonus. Let me see.” I show him a picture of her in a skintight light pink dress with a sunset behind her. Her hair is long and curled, and she’s holding a champagne glass. Surprisingly, I see his eyes widen. “Wow, okay, yeah. She’s beautiful.”
I pause and say, “But she’s a blonde.”
“Yeah, think I can get over that.” He smirks at me. “What else do you have?”
Feeling weird because I didn’t think he would have that kind of reaction, I go back to the screenshots on my phone. I don’t know, I knew he was going to think she was pretty because it’s obvious, but his reaction suggests he’s actually interested.
Why is that a bad thing in my head?
It shouldn’t be.
I guess this whole situation is just weird, is all. Breaker doesn’t date that much. He’s taken girls out, had one-night stands, but an actual girlfriend, not really.
“So, uh, she really likes baseball. She loves the Chicago Rebels. Not sure who they are, but she has some fan page dedicated to a player’s butt.”
“Which means she’s a butt person. That bodes well for me, as I have a nice ass.”
“Do you?”
“Oh please,” he scoffs. “You know I do, and don’t even try to deny it. What else do you have on her?”