“Let me make it up to you.”
I paused. “What?”
“Today. The pool. My cousin’s assholery. Let me make it up to you.”
“I--you--how?”
He grinned. “Got any more classes today?”
I shook my head. “Not until the morning.”
“Great. Let’s drop your things off and take a ride.”
“Max, you don’t have to--”
“Come on, Bambi. We’re burning daylight.”
He tugged me softly toward my dorm entrance and the two of us walked up. We took the back stairwell, keeping in step with one another until we got to the top. It didn’t shock me one bit that Hannah wasn’t in the room. Part of me was relieved. The last thing I needed was her questioning why I was randomly with Max. Nor did I want her flirting with him.
That idea made my lips turn down.
“Can I get out of my bathing suit first?” I asked.
“You didn’t change out of it?”
I paused. “I didn’t really get a chance to.”
His nostrils flared. “You do whatever you need to. I’ll be right outside the door.”
I nodded. “I won’t take long.”
The second he closed the door, I jumped around. Taking off my wet clothes was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Especially when I went to wiggle out of my suit. I tossed everything into my hamper. I knew it would grow musty overnight, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was piling my hair on top of my head, putting on some fresh clothes, and going anywhere and everywhere with Max. I pulled a pair of my comfy jeans up my legs, opting for a long-sleeved shirt since my hair was still wet. After sliding on a bit of lip gloss and dusting on some blush like Hannah had shown me, I smiled at myself in the mirror.
Then I opened the door.
“Ready?”
Max’s eyes fell to my jeans, but the look he gave me wasn’t one I’d ever seen in the movies. I mean, I didn't expect to sweep the man off his feet or anything. But did he really have to look so put-off by them?
“How long have you had those?” he asked.
I paused. “Uh, since high school?”
“What year in high school?”
“Do they look bad or something?”
He slowly shook his head. “They’re just… loose.”
I smiled. “That’s what makes them comfortable.”
“They have holes in the knees.”
“Does that bother you, Mr. Leather Jacket?”
His eyes found mine. “My jeans don’t have holes in the knees.”
“Well, all right, Mr. Perfect.”