I must look like a freaking disaster right now.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I mutter. “I’m so sorry.”
I glance over at Luke. He does not look like a freaking disaster.
In fact, he looks somehow even more gorgeous. Water drips from his dark hair, which is semi-slicked back but too short to hold the slick so it just sticks up in perfect disarray, and his white shirt clings to his stomach, showcasing his washboard abs for everyone lucky enough to catch a glimpse.
My one-night stand.
My brother’s best friend.
My hero.
My new roommate.
I sigh softly.
“What the hell happened?” Nicki asks. “Did someone push you?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” I say. “I tripped. My heel was a little wobbly and I fell while I was walking up the stairs.”
“Only you, Ellie, I swear,” Josh says as he laughs, and it’s total déjà vu as I’m transported to the last time he said those exact same words to me less than a week ago when Todd dumped me and I was fired in the same day. To be fair, it’s a phrase he uses quite a bit around me.
“The bride and groom will now be cutting the cake,” the deejay announces, and thankfully that takes the eyes off Luke and me.
I don’t want to miss them cutting the cake or any of the other traditions at a wedding, but I’m soaked and this dress isn’t getting any lighter and I’m fucking mortified. “I’m going to go dry off and change,” I tell Nicki, and I start heading in toward the hotel.
“Wait up,” Luke says from right behind me. “I’ll go, too.” He grabs his shoes, which he took off to dive in to save me, and we walk together toward the building.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say. “Just embarrassed. Thanks for helping me.”
He laughs. “Someone had to. You were flailing around in there, spinning in circles like you didn’t know which way was out.”
“Yeah, well, could’ve been anyone, and it had to be you,” I mutter. The automatic doors open and we step through and head toward the elevator.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He presses the button for the elevator.
I blink, and I debate how much to say, and then I realize...screw it. I’m starting over in a new city. I have no job, no place of my own, no friends out here. I have nothing to lose by being perfectly honest except for some awkwardness with my new roommate, but you know what? Awkwardness never killed anybody. Did it?
I shake my head. He glances down at me with furrowed brows, and hell if it isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “I like you, Luke. And you keep doing things and saying things to make me like you more. But you already told me I’m forbidden fruit, and I’m trying so damn hard to act like you’re not the Prince Charming of the ultimate fairy tale, but you just keep proving that you are.”
I’m babbling, and I realize that.
He pulls me into his arms. “It’s okay,” he soothes, rubbing circles on my back.
My face is pressed to his chest. His hard, firm chest. “See?” I say, my face smashed against his wet shirt, muffling my voice. “Even this is Prince Charming material.”
“Oh, sweet, Sexy Ellie,” he says softly. He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I promise you, I’m no prince.”
The elevator doors open, breaking up our intimate moment, and we pull apart to step on. It’s a fairly full car, and we draw curious glances from the others as two wet people dressed up in their finest hop on board.
“Can you believe I fell in the pool and she jumped in to save me?” he says to the quiet car full of strangers, and awkward laughter erupts.
I smack him in the shoulder, laughing at him. The doors open and he gets off on the forty-third floor. “I’ll come get you when I’m done,” he says before the doors close, and I ride up to floor forty-seven as I wonder how long I’ll be waiting for him—or if he’ll move quickly and be waiting on me.
When I get to the mirror, I find that the damage is even worse than I imagined.
I scrub my face clean. I can start over on my make-up once I get this damn heavy dress off.
I take a quick body shower to get the chlorine off, not daring to mess with the rat nest that’s my hair. I’ll need a little time to get the pins out of the wet mess.
I’m just toweling dry when there’s a knock at the door. I think we can all guess who it is.
Of course I’m in my towel and not dressed yet when he shows up. Why would it be any other way?
But you know what? I want him, and I want him to want me back.
And seeing a girl that he had sex with clad only in a teeny-tiny hotel towel has to be at least a little tempting, right?
I see the fluffy hotel robe on my way by the closet to answer the door, and I take all of a millisecond to ignore that it’s even there. A flimsy towel that barely covers the goodie bits versus a huge fluffy robe? If I’m going for temptation, the flimsy towel wins.
I throw open the door, and it’s not Luke at all.
Guess those little peephole thingies come in handy.
It’s.
My.
Dad.
“Oh, gosh, Ellie!” He shields his eyes. “I’m sorry!”
“No, Dad, don’t be,” I mutter. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” My face burns as I realize I nearly flashed my own father all the goods, and that is when Hot Luke decides to show up at my door.
Dry as a bone.
Hair restyled perfectly.
Wearing a suit that’s not a tux but that still makes him look hella delish.
And once again, catching me in a completely and totally embarrassing situation.
“Were you expecting someone else?” my dad asks, completely oblivious to the fact that Luke is standing directly behind him.
“No!” I exclaim, trying to think fast. “I, uh, figured it was Nicki or one of the other bridesmaids checking up on me.”
“Well it’s me checking up on you,” he says.
“I came to check on you, too,” Luke says smoothly, finally alerting my dad to the fact that he’s standing there.
“I’m fine. But please, everyone, come on in.” I open the door, and both my dad and Luke walk in. My cheeks burn as Luke’s eyes move straight to the window where he had me bent over as he banged into me from behind.
He glances at me and raises a brow, and I want to just curl into a ball and die right about now.
I rummage through my suitcase and I find dry underwear. I turn to the closet for the black dress I packed as a just in case, and then I lock myself in the bathroom.
So much for seducing Luke.
I put on a light smattering of make-up, unpin my hair as quickly as I can, spray about a gallon of detangler on it, and try to comb it out. Ultimately I twist it into a bun and call it good. The pictures have already been taken, so it’s not like I’ll be ruining those with this fresh new look straight from the depths of hell.
I pair my dress with black flats because hell if I’m getting back into heels, and then I turn to my dad and Luke, who seem to be shooting the shit, and I say, “Ready?”
This is not exactly how I planned for the last ten minutes to go, but it is what it is.
The elevator ride down to the reception is not quite as exciting as the ride up, and when we emerge back into the pool area, everyone has basically forgotten the poor girl who fell into the pool and the hot football megastar who saved her.