I can’t help but laugh. “I have to, ma’am. She’s pretty scary when she wants to be, she even has my whole hockey team terrified of her.”
“She’s always been like that,” Colin says proudly. “When she was thirteen, a boy in her class was being bullied by a few older boys. We got called in to see the principal because Anastasia made them all cry.”
“Mhmm.” Julia hums. “What you seem to be missing is she ended up in detention for two whole weeks because she told the principal if he needed a teenage girl to do his job for him, he wasn’t fit to be head of the school.”
Stassie’s cheeks flush a little, but she brushes it off. “Was I wrong, though? And they never bullied him again.”
“Brady has been bullying me for weeks and you haven’t stood up for me once,” I tease.
She nudges me playfully, laughing. “I’m brave, but I’m notthatbrave.”
A couple of hours after we arrived, Julia produced two Christmas onesies—a reindeer for me and a snowman for Stas—and it’s the comfiest thing I’ve ever worn. I feel like I know Anastasia so much better now that I’ve heard every embarrassing story in her parents’ repertoire.
Since today has been so low-key, Anastasia suggested we go out for dinner this evening, so nobody had to cook. She’s been getting ready since forever, so I’ve made myself comfortable on her bed with a massive bag of chips Julia gave me. My stomach rumbled once earlier, and she’s made it her personal mission to feed me everything in the house.
I love watching Stassie get ready; she’s curling her hair strand by strand, concentrating on every single piece. Her teeth are piercing her bottom lip as she focuses, studying every curl. Every now and then, she leans toward the mirror and the light catches her tanned skin; I can’t help but let my eyes travel across the slope of her waist, the curve of her hips…
“You’re so hot.”
She looks at me through the mirror, smirking. “Are you talking to me or your chips?”
“You. Chips are good, but you’re obviously better. Can you help me off the bed?”
Her eyes narrow, rightfully suspicious. “Why? So you can pull me onto the bed as soon as I give you my hand?”
“No.” I lie. Turning off the hot stick thing, she slowly walks to the side of the bed. “Why are you so far away? Come closer.”
Her lips tug up at the side as she takes a small step toward me, but it’s enough for me to lunge toward her and pull her onto the bed. She squeals as my fingers dig into her sides, tickling her until she can hardly breathe.
She leans against my chest, her perfect curls decorating my skin. “You need to get ready.”
I know I do, but she looks so content I don’t want to miss a minute of it. “Can we spend the next week like this? Naked though.” I add. “Well, you naked. I like this onesie, my balls are super toasty.”
“As long as your balls are toasty,obviously.”
“Can we fool about for ten minutes? Then I’ll get ready,” I ask, wrapping one of her curls around my finger.
“No.”
“Five minutes?”
Huffing, she rolls her eyes. “Second base for three minutes, but then you have to get ready.”
“Deal.”
* * *
I madea mistake negotiating for fooling around time earlier. What I should have been negotiating was wearing my reindeer outfit to the restaurant. After an afternoon of comfort, this shirt feels suffocating.
Its only redeeming quality is the fact Anastasia is looking at me like she’s picturing more than second base in her head.
“Stop looking at me like you want me to fuck you,” I mutter as her parents walk ahead of us, following the host to our table.
“But I want you to. I think it’s the rolled-up sleeves. You look so hot.”
A laugh rumbles in my throat, but I don’t say anything. Rolled-up sleeves are a JJ classic. He insists it’s the sluttiest thing a guy can do, and it has a 100 percent success rate. I fucking hate it when he’s right.
Anastasia and I don’t eat out a lot when we’re at home because we’re working so hard with her new plan, it seems a little counterproductive when learning new recipes makes her happy.