She shifted uncomfortably next to me, blushed, and looked out the window, which only heightened my curiosity. I glanced back at the bar she had been standing by and the two guys in their underwear flicked through my head. I shook it. Nah, that couldn’t be right. AM wouldn’t be wearing just her panties underneath that jacket.
I tried a different tactic. “Where were you?” It came out hoarse, like I hadn’t drunk water for a week, but I couldn’t help it. All fluids in my body were pooling below the waist at the thought of her attired in nothing but a bra and panties. Thank God it was dark.
“The Garden,” she said, unconcerned. Likely she’d not a clue as to what was swirling through my head.
“What’s that?” I hadn’t heard of it before.
“Gay bar.”
And that’s the reason why. I saw no reason to go to a gay bar to drink. If I had to move it on the dance floor, it was for the express purpose of picking up a girl. But that would explain the two guys in jocks and, no, wait, it did not explain the guys in their underwear.
“I saw two guys go inside with some briefs on. What’s that all about?”
“Special invite-only party,” AM mumbled.
“What’s that?”
“Underwear party.”
I clearly didn’t hear that right.
“Underwear party?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw her nod her agreement. I took my eyes off the road and looked at her jacket. Would that I had X-ray vision right now.
“Hey,” she said, her hand coming over to the steering wheel. I’d veered off into the gravel and was perilously close to the curb. I took the next two lefts and ended up in a low-lit parking lot. The bustle of the downtown was two miles behind us and the campus a few miles in front of us. It was a no-man’s land of closed businesses here.
I put the car in park and turned in my seat. “Underwear party?” I repeated.
“Why are we stopped?”
Did she think she was making sense? Because she wasn’t. “You just said underwear party. I almost drove off the road at those words.”
“I won’t talk about it,” she promised.
“I still can’t drive. It’s not safe for either of us.”
She rolled her eyes at me, but I was thinking seriously of our safety. Did she honestly believe I could drive knowing that she was wearing underwear under her trench coat? Did she not know that this was like every guy’s fantasy from the age that guys could have fantasies?
“Fine,” she huffed. “It’s an invitation-only party. You go in your underwear.”
“Everyone?”
“Yes.”
“All these gay guys get to look at you in your underwear?” I was outraged.
She nodded.
“How do you know if they’re gay? Shit, I’d lie two ways to Sunday that I was gay to get into a shindig like that.”
“I don’t know. And there are straight guys there. Ryan Collins was there.”
That sneaky motherfucker. How did he get in there? We were going to have a talk after tonight, he and I.
“Can we go home now?” AM said impatiently. “I’m kind of cold.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to yell back that of course she was cold. She was wearing her fucking underwear and nothing else. Instead, I shook my head and got out of the car. I did a few deep knee bends, tried to lift the car, and then rested my head against the roof, battling back all sorts of images in my head.
I vaguely registered the car door opening and closing. Then felt the heat of AM’s body as she stood next to me.
“Ah, what’re you doing?”
“I have poor impulse control, AM.” I refused to look at her. Did I really think she needed to make the first move? How illegal was it if I just kidnapped her and locked her in my bedroom until she agreed to my demands? Very illegal, Bo, I counseled myself sternly.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, I’m not ready to get back into an enclosed space with you,” I huffed. Could she not just go back into the car and pretend I wasn’t out here?
I felt her soft hand on my arm. “Is everything okay?”
I stood up and looked down at her. Even in her damn fine heels, she didn’t come up much higher than my neck. “I fought some guys tonight. A friendly workout to release some tension. I bruised my knuckles.” I showed her the scraped backs of my fingers. She hovered her hand over one of them but didn’t touch. “I got hit in the face.” I pointed to the reddish bruise forming at the top of my cheekbone on the right side. “I’ve got a helluva bruise on my ribs.” I pulled up the side of my shirt to expose the killer shot from Mr. Tubby. I heard her sharp inhale. “But I can’t feel even any of that because all the blood is in my shorts at the thought of you standing in front of me, all wrapped up quiet in that tan coat of yours, wearing some kind of crazy getup underneath, like a hidden surprise at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box.”