Obviously, the years had been good to him and it intimidated the hell out of her. It made her armpits sweatier and tied her stomach and her tongue in knots. What she wanted to say was that the whole thing was a mistake. That she never should have been farting around on there, not when she was drunk, not at all. She didn’t mean to send that stupid message and she was hungover as hell, her head hurt, her stomach felt like it could potentially eject its contents all over the shiny tile floor, and her patience was severely at an end after getting kidnapped by goddamn Jeeves, Alfred, whatever his name was.
“Why is your underwear so fucking hot anyway? I don’t see why people would buy the shit. It’s probably grossly overpriced and made for like, five cents overseas.”
“That’s slightly racist.”
“Nothing racist about that statement. I’m just saying, it’s probably true.”
Jesse sighed as he sat down on the other end of the couch. He crossed his arms over a chest that shouldn’t be sexy, couldn’t be sexy, a chest of a guy she used to think of like a brother, and what do you know, the shirt gods must seriously be against her, because those buttons bulged and strained at all the wrong angles, exposing just a hint of bronzed skin below.
Annnnddddd cue the whole dry mouth thing.
Which was probably just a by-product of being hungover. It was definitely a by-product of being hungover.
Sydney swallowed convulsively as Jesse sighed again.
“It’s actually made right here in the US, which was part of the reason the company took off. People want to support local. Make local. We use sustainable resources like cotton, bamboo, and hemp.”
“Hemp? You use Mary-J to make your gotch?”
“First of all, hemp is a fiber. It has nothing to do with marijuana, really. Not in that way. Secondly, it’s strong and durable and has been used for centuries as a textile fiber. It’s a very smart product to use.”
“Still. What does your underwear do that everyone else’s don’t?”
“First of all, we believe in the fact that everyone should have access to sanitary products and that’s not a reality for a large portion of the world, so for every pair of underwear sold, we donate a pair to developing countries, where they are needed most. They eliminate the need for those products that aren’t readily available, or even if they are here, many women find it more convenient not to use them and it certainly goes a long way in helping the environment.”
Sydney stared at Jesse with an open mouth. “Okay… first of all, that’s gross.”
“It’s not gross,” he assured her, dead serious. “It’s nature and part of a huge problem of waste that goes into the environment. Many of my co-workers are female and they swear by the underwear. It wasn’t me that created the product, I’ll put your mind at ease about that. We had a huge developmental team working on it.”
“And let me guess. Lots of them were pervy men.”
“None of them, actually.”
“Did any pervs try them out?”
“Not that I know of, but I can’t be responsible for the people who buy them.” Jesse’s lips quirked into a ghost of a smile, and Sydney squirmed on the couch.
She tried very hard to deny the fact that her ovaries, which were likely dusty as hell from disuse, had just kicked into overdrive. Was it possible that his smile just induced ovulation? Maybe she was pregnant just from looking at this man… this man who looked nothing like the boy she used to know.
Stop. That’s insanely ridiculous.
“We also make products for people who have bladder control challenges, a product that is comfortable and fits well. And then we have our sport line that is naturally moisture wicking to keep people dry and comfortable and rash free-”
She held up a hand. “Stop. Okay, I’ve heard enough. I don’t really care about how you got rich.”
Or those billboards that have your name and your company name plastered all over them. Or the magazines. She’d never really paid attention to any of it. She’d tried not to see it, which explained why she didn’t notice that her best friend blossomed. Blossomed? Was that the right word? Could a man blossom? If so, he’d definitely bloomed. Like a damn flower. The billboards and magazines seriously did not do him justice.
“What I do care about is that all of this…” she waved that hand around, indicating the house, but more so, the large problem that was bearing down on her, crushing the living hell out of her. “Was- is- a mistake.”
Jesse kept that level face, a poker face, whatever it was called. He looked at her without emotion. Gave absolutely nothing away. She wanted to punch him in that damn face just to crack that surface level, to see if anything else poured out. Any feeling.