My cheeks grow feverishly hot and I shove my phone under my butt as I sit up. Tristan caught me staring at a shirtless photo of Dean...Shit, does he know who I was really thinking about when I was ogling? "Um, uh, that was...is my boyfriend. Um, Dean. Dean, my boyfriend." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue and causes my chest to tighten.

A flicker of something passes over Tristan's face too quickly to read. "Ah, Dean. The boyfriend." He crosses his arms as I shuffle to the edge of the bed, gathering my bearings.

"Yep! So, you can keep your naughty photos tucked away. I'm all covered," I say with a flick of my wrist.

His smile tilts up to one side as he remains rooted in his spot under the door frame. "That's too bad because I have some really good ones that tend to do the trick."

I huff out a laugh, slightly in disbelief that we're having this conversation, but then my cheeks loosen when I picture it...Holy God what is this man doing making me think about all the potential thirst traps he has?

"Alright, fine. I'll tell you about my best one since you're practically begging for it." His brows raise as if he's deigning me with this offer.

"I'm not—" I start to object when he cuts in.

"Braces," he starts counting off on his fingers, "Mild eczema. And holding my mom's hand at the swimming pool while wearing a speedo. Quite a big lady trap that photo was even if it was taken ten years ago."

I burst out laughing. "Wow. I changed my mind. I'm thirsty and I need to see it."

He grins widely. "No way, you're not ready for it. Your ovaries may explode."

I clutch my stomach as I laugh even harder and picture the photo. Ten years ago Tristan must have been..."Wait, hold up! How old are you?"

He says without missing a beat, "Twenty seven."

"Oh my God, Tristan! You're telling me, you were seventeen when you had braces and when you held your mom's hand at the pool?"

The deep, rumbling laugh that comes out of him warms my soul like hot soup on a cold day. "Yep. I told you it was a good one."

"This photo sounds iconic!"

"So, how old are you?" he asks as we're settling down from laughter. He's still at the door but his body looks more relaxed, with his arms uncrossed and with his shoulder leaning against the frame.

"How old do I look?" I'm surprised by the flirtatious undertone of my voice. Like I'm prodding him into a guessing game that will determine how attractive he finds me.

He shrugs. "Twenty five?"

I should probably take offense that he guessed older, but something satisfactory settles into my gut. He sees me as around his age. "I'm twenty two."

"That's exactly what I was going to say. I was just testing you." Lines fill out the corners of his eyes as he smiles and for a moment I'm struck by how adorable this man is. He's so unbelievably charming that it's kind of scary to look at him.

"I'm glad I passed. Anyways," I clear my throat and shift in my seat, "um, what's up? Are you here to try and kick me out again?"

He shakes his head. "Oh. Uhh." He scratches the back of his neck. "No, I've turned over a new leaf. The bed is yours for the trip."

I raise a brow. "Really? But where will you sleep?"

"In the snow. Snuggled with the racoons. Might get frostbite and rabies but oh well."

I laugh and lean back on my palms. "Well, at least you'll get someone to cuddle with after all."

He smiles but it falters as his eyes trail down my body. Heat zaps through my belly and I straighten up again. "So, um, if you're not here to kick me out then..." I trail off, hoping he'll jump to why he's here so that we can stop flirting or whatever this is.

"Right. Uhh, my buddies messaged that they're all hanging out and about to start a game near the park. I was checking in to see if you wanted to join?"

"A game? What kind of game?"

"No clue. But usually whatever they put on is a hell of a good time. So," he straightens and puts his hands in the pockets of his dark washed jeans, "are you in or would you like to continue to hang around the parents and suffer from the occasional bullshit they like to spew?"

The tips of my ears heat and I briefly look down at the navy blue comforter I'm sitting on, feeling slightly embarrassed about the conversation that happened at the lunch table. "Sorry about that. During lunch. It's been a thing with my parents and it's annoying but I'm fine."

His brows furrow and suddenly it feels as if I'm being examined under a microscope with the way his green eyes pour into me. "No need to be sorry. You haven't done anything wrong. I'm just sorry you have to deal with that. But also," his lips tilt to the side as he pauses in thought, "I think it's really cool that you're following what you set out to do. A lot of people crack under the pressure of their parents, but you're..." he trails off letting the unspoken 'not' settle into the air.

"Thanks. And trust me, I may still crack at some point. My prospects don't look too bright."

He nods thoughtfully. "I have a feeling you won't."

A light stream of energy dances through my veins when I sense the gravity in his voice. "You don't really know me though." I tuck my hands under my thighs. "We just met yesterday. Who's to say I don't suck at what I do and I'm just a whiny little brat?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "I saw that sketch on the backdrop you did today. I think you'll be just fine."

Warmth invades my chest. It's mixed with something sweet like hot cocoa with cute marshmallows on top. "Thanks. And thanks for not being as dickish as I thought you were."

"Of course." He smirks and then takes a breath before continuing. "So, you in for the game? My buddies want me there before two."

I glance at the baseball clock on the wall and it reads one forty. Should I go with him?

It could be fun to hang around people my age for a bit. And it's not like Tristan and I would be alone together very much if his friends will be there. I could even put more of a good word in for Erika with him.

Also, he and I—hanging out together—we could be friends. I don't have too many and I could see us getting along just fine once I get over whatever this lust haze is that I'm in. I nod letting the decision settle into me. "Yeah, sure. I'm down. I'll just need to put on a warmer sweater if we'll be outside." I stand up and head to the far wall where my large suitcase is open and my clothes are haphazardly pouring out.

"Same. I hope you don't mind if I keep my bag here even though I'll be sleeping downstairs." He reaches down to his carry-on sized black bag, which is right near the door. Neatly folded clothes pop into sight once he unzips the bag.

I let my body cover my bag so that he can't see what a mess I am as I pull out my thick cream-colored sweater from the pile. While facing the wall I grab the thin gray sweater that I have on and start to pull it up over my body.

"Um, uhh do you need help?" Tristan asks with urgency in his voice.

The coldness of the air registers against my stomach and it hits me that I've pulled my t-shirt up along with my sweater, basically stripping myself to my bra. Oh my God!

My skin prickles with heat and I try shoving my clothes back down. Except my shoulder is already partly out and my elbows get caught in the fabric. With a graceful "umph" I'm now caught in some sort of straitjacket. Stomach and backside are still fully exposed as I try to break free like a mental patient.

"Here, let me help you!" Tristan says as his footsteps approach.

"I...got..it," I say while still struggling to break free.

He remains quiet and I turn to him, managing to pop my head back into the hole of the shirt. My hair is wild over my face and through the strands I catch Tristan staring at my stomach, standing frozen. I can't really tell what's happening though.

"God, I'm such a disaster sometimes." I laugh through the embarrassment and finally adjust my shirt mostly back into place. I look down, following his eyeline to the waistband of my gray Akin boxer briefs underwear peeking out of my jeans. I stuff the branded waistband back in while trying to ride out this mortification. "Thanks for the offer, though." I smooth my hair back out as much as I can while trying to catch my breath from all of the mental patient activity.

He doesn't even react. With the confused look on his face, it's as if I just told him pigs can fly. His eyes flit to my suitcase where more of my underwear is on full display and it dawns on me that he probably is so weirded out that I'm wearing men's underwear. That or he's wondering which institution I ran away from. When he doesn't say anything for a second longer, I cross my arms. "Alright, so I wear men's boxer briefs sometimes. So, sue me!"

He snaps out of whatever state he's in and looks at me with an unreadable expression. "You're good. I'll be downstairs, warming up the car. Just come down whenever you're ready."

He disappears from the room in a flash and I can finally take in a full breath of air.